He almost said no, almost reached for the easy lie, but it stuck in his throat. “Jacob showed up.”
Her hand stilled. “Oh?”
He stared up at the ceiling. His fingers found the edge of the blanket, worrying the fringe until a thread loosened between his nails. He didn’t even notice he was doing it until Emma’s hand brushed his.
“He was wearing this dark suit,” he continued. “Looked like he was about to seduce the whole fucking industry without trying.”
Emma raised an amused eyebrow. “You do realize how often you bring him up, right? Are you a little starstruck?”
The words lodged inside him. He didn’t answer at once. When he spoke again, it came out softer. “He’s not what I expected.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I know.” His chest tightened. “But tonight… he said something. About me. About how I make people feel like they matter.”
She didn’t look surprised. “That’s true,” she said simply.
“But it’s not the kind of thingheusually says.” He rubbed a hand over his face, as if pressure could erase the weight of it. “I don’t know why it stuck, but it did.”
What he didn’t say was that Jacob’s voice had followed him all the way home, threading through his head until it drowned out everything else. He hated that he could still hear it now, with Emma’s fingers laced through his own.
She squeezed his hand. “You’re allowed to be flustered sometimes.”
He looked at her, suddenly ashamed of the heaviness sitting in his chest and the chaotic thoughts running through his mind. “I love you,” he said quietly, voice almost raw. “You know that, right?”
“I do.” Her smile was full of warmth.
He looked down at their hands, still joined. Still real. He clung tighter, because even if his thoughts were a mess and Jacob’s shadow trailed him into every quiet corner, this—Emma, their life, this solidity—still mattered more than anything. It had to. Especially with tomorrow pressing closer.
***
The whiteboard on the wall readPHYSICAL COMFORT MAP, the kind of thing that should’ve looked like a rehearsal aid but struck Liam more like a BDSM checklist.
The Intimacy Coordinator stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand, smile calm and unshakable. She carried the kind of presence that saidI have seen everything and will not flinch.“Today is about identifying comfort levels,”she said, voice neutral. “We’ll talk through what the scenes are meant to express—lust, love, tension—then explore physical touch, proximity and kissing. The goal is respect, clarity, and communication. You’ll be doing a lot of this during filming. Boundaries matter.”
Liam nodded like he wasn’t already halfway into a breakdown.
Jacob stood across the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He wore something dark, like he was trying to blend into the shadows, but nothing about Jacob would ever blend.
“Let’s talk about touch,” the IC said, tapping the whiteboard. “Hands, face, torso, hips. If anything’s off-limits, now’s the time to say so.”
Liam nodded automatically, even though his brain was stuck somewhere betweenhipsandtorso. The talk was clinical and professional. On paper it was easy. In practice every word sank into Liam’s skin.
“Let’s discuss kissing next,” she said, eyes flicking between them. “For this project, realism is part of the brief. Which means, in many scenes, it will need to look like a real, open-mouth kiss. Tongue included.”
Liam’s stomach pulled tight. He glanced at Jacob, searching for some reaction, but his face was a wall—every defense intact, nothing slipping through.
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have choices,” she went on gently. “We choreograph everything in advance, but we do need to establish your comfort levels for this as well, because camera angles can’t fake intimacy forever.”
She looked at Jacob, then at Liam. “It’s your choice. Are you comfortable using tongue, or would you prefer to simulate it for the camera?”
Neither moved.
Liam’s throat went dry. He’d never cheated a scene before, never settled for anything that looked less than real. That was what the audience deserved, what the story deserved. He told himself that was why his answer was already forming, why he couldn’t bring himself to choose the easy way out. Still, a thought pricked sharp at the back of his mind—is that the reason or is it because you want to taste him again?
He cleared his throat. “I mean… fake kisses kinda always look fake.”
Jacob’s voice followed. “The viewer sees everything.”
