“On my way,” I say.
When I walk into Jade’s room, I immediately hear Clara’s voice from Jade’s phone propped on the dresser. “Hi Wyatt!” she calls cheerfully through the screen. “My wife ate too much at dinner and now she can’t get out of her dress!”
“I did not eat too much,” Jade protests, laughing as she contorts herself trying to reach the stubborn zipper. “The dress shrank. It’s clearly defective.”
“Sure it did, babe,” Clara says, her laughter clear through the speaker.
I can’t help but grin as I work at the delicate zipper, my fingers fumbling with the tiny mechanism. “Hold still,” I say, trying not to laugh as Jade wobbles.
“This is riveting television,” Clara comments dryly from the phone. “Wyatt Ford versus a zipper. I should sell tickets.”
After a minute, the zipper finally gives way with a satisfyingzzzzip.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jade says, turning to give me a quick, friendly hug before grabbing her phone. “See? I told you he could do it.”
“Barely,” Clara teases. “That took forever.”
“Goodnight, Clara,” I say, shaking my head.
The whole interaction lasts less than five minutes. I leave her room smiling and shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, and head back to my own room.
The next morning, my bags are packed and I’m counting the hours until I can get on that plane. I’m exhausted, but at least we’re going home.
I’ve barely had time to talk to Snow while I’ve been here — just the usual morning and evening texts between the endless hours of shooting, makeup, wardrobe changes, and reshoots. I have a whole load of photos saved on my phone to show her, and stories to tell her about the chaos behind the scenes. I wish I’d thought to ask Leo if Snow could have come with me. She and Clara could have kept themselves entertained while Jade and I were working, and then we all could have gotten together afterwards. Maybe next time, if Delilah wants us for the next series.
At the small, private airport, Leo is insufferably cheerful, clapping us both on the back and calling the shoot “legendary” and “iconic.” “So sorry about last night!” he says with a dismissive wave. “That call went way longer than expected. You know how marketing people are.” He’s already back on his phone, typing furiously, that manic energy radiating off him in waves. “The pre-release buzz is going to be insane,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “Your social media is going to explode. The fans are going to lose their minds.”
Jade and I exchange tired looks. We’re both exhausted, sunburnt, and ready to be home. She’s already texting Clara about what time she’ll be landing. I’m mentally counting down the hours until I can see Snow, wrap her in my arms, and forget this whole manufactured paradise ever happened.
My phone buzzes with a text as I’m heading toward the gate. Snow’s name lights up the screen, and my chest tightens when I read it.
Please call me. I need to talk to you. It’s important.
Something’s wrong. I can feel it in the urgency of her words. Preston. It has to be about Preston. That bastard must have done something. Said something to her. Tried to manipulate her again.
Before I can call her back, another text comes through.
Wyatt, I need to hear your voice. Please call me back.
My stomach drops. I think about how uncertain she still gets sometimes, how she’ll look at me like she’s waiting for me to disappoint her. How she’ll ask me quiet questions — “You’re sure? You really want this?” — like she’s still not quite convinced this is real. It kills me every time. The damage that asshole did to her, making her doubt herself, doubt love, doubt everything good.
But I’ll reassure her. Every damn time. For as long as it takes. Because I love her so damn much it physically hurts when I’m away from her.
My phone rings in my hand. Snow.
“Hey, babe!” I answer, relief flooding through me. But the moment I do, chaos erupts around me. Leo is yelling about something, and one of the production assistants is grabbing the wrong equipment bag. “Sorry, it’s crazy here, I’m about to board and, hey, not that bag, the black one! Sorry, what’s up?”
“I—” Her voice sounds strained, wrong. “Have you seen, there are photos online, and I—”
“Photos?” I’m barely processing, distracted by Leo frantically waving at me. “Oh, yeah, Leo mentioned something about the shoot going viral. Delilah’s thrilled. Look, I’m literally walking onto the plane. Can we talk about this when I’m home? Should be landing in like six hours. I—”
The call drops. We’re already moving through the jetway, and the signal is garbage.
I look down at my phone, frustrated. I should call her back, but we’re literally boarding and they’re about to make us turn everything off anyway. Six hours. I’ll be home in six hours, and I can hold her and tell her face-to-face that whatever Preston did, whatever insecurity he triggered, we’re solid. We’re real. She can trust this.
My phone starts buzzing again as we’re finding our seats. Snow is calling back. I’m juggling my carry-on, trying to get to my row while Leo is still chattering at me about promotional schedules.
“Wyatt, your phone,” Jade says, pointing. It’s fallen between the seats.
