***
Two nights later, Liam ended up on the living room floor with Emma, both of them bent over a pile of board games they hadn’t touched in years. She claimed he’d been too wound up since the auditions and prescribed an emergency round of Scrabble.
“You’re cheating,” he accused as she slapped downZYGOTEacross the triple-word score.
Emma’s laugh rang through the room, bright and smug, as she reached for her tea. “Pregnancy brain doesn’t cancel out genius, babe.”
He grinned despite himself, shaking his head. “You’ve been hoarding those tiles since the start.”
“Strategizing,” she said with a smile. “You always jump in too fast. That’s why I beat you every time.”
He tossed a cushion at her, gentle enough that she caught it against her belly with mock indignation. For a while it was easy—easy to laugh, to lose himself in her warmth, and to pretend he hadn’t spent the past forty-eight hours replaying the kiss until it had worn a groove through his chest.
Then his phone buzzed against the coffee table. He almost ignored it, but the name flashing across the screen stopped him cold. The studio.
Emma arched an eyebrow. “Well? Aren’t you going to answer?”
He swiped to accept, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Liam.” Ellen’s voice crackled with energy. “Congratulations. The role is yours.”
For a moment he forgot how to breathe. “I—what?”
“You heard me. You and Wolfe. It’s locked in. Your contract will come through this week, but consider it official.”
His gaze found Emma, her expectant smile tilting as if she could hear every word. His pulse hammered in his throat. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Ellen said warmly. “You earned it. We’ll be in touch with the schedule.” She hung up before he could stumble over more words.
Emma’s eyes lit up. “That’s it, isn’t it? You got it?”
He nodded and she squealed, launching herself across the Scrabble tiles and into his arms. He caught her carefully, mindful of her belly, laughing as she kissed his cheek again and again.
“I knew it,” she said breathlessly. “I told you—you’re incredible.”
Her joy reminded him of their early years, when any scrap of progress—a callback for her, a two-line part for him—was reason enough for cheap champagne and barefoot dancing in her kitchen. The stakes had grown, but the rhythm between them hadn’t; still the same laughter, and the same instinct to celebrate every victory together.
His arms tightened around her, the warmth of her happiness spilling through him. He held onto it, clung to it, wishing it was enough to drown out the echo of a kiss that still burned in the back of his mind.
Chapter 5
Liam
Two and a half weeks later, Liam sat at a long conference table, telling himself he wasn’t nervous. The room buzzed with a jittery kind of energy, scripts rustling as actors and writers took their places. The first read-through for episodes one and two was about to begin, and for the first time the words would lift off the page.
Pre-production had officially kicked off a few days ago—set walkthroughs, costume prelims, and endless introductions. Enough structure to make it feel like the work had finally begun, though mostly it was just moving pieces into place and waiting for the real work to start.
He had taken a spot near the middle of the table. Directly across from him, Jacob sat with his script in hand, focus pinned to the page. Liam’s leg was already bouncing, and his fingers were twitching against the paper. Jacob’s stillness only sharpened the contrast, making Liam painfully aware of every restless motion he couldn’t control.
They’d briefly crossed paths several times during the last few days. Liam had tried to keep things light and casual, tossing out easy greetings, sometimes a joke when the mood allowed. Jacob answered politely, but always at arm’s length, as if some invisible wall followed him wherever he went. This was the firsttime they’d had to truly interact since the chemistry read, and Liam could already feel the hum of it under his skin.
Ellen’s voice cut through the chatter. “Alright everyone, let’s get started.”
Scripts shuffled as Liam straightened in his chair and relaxed his shoulders. He listened as others read their parts, only chiming in when his character stepped forward.
Then cametheirscene.
Jacob’s voice carried across the table—low and controlled, with just enough roughness to cut to the bone of the scene. Liam fell into step without thinking, shaping his own lines to meet the challenge, the rhythm between them sharp and alive.
