He opened his mouth as if to speak, but she pushed on, words tumbling out now that the truth had found its way to the surface. “You give people a chance to escape. To lose themselves in the magic. Whether you’re jumping off moving trains or blowing up an underwater city. Or melting hearts with a one-liner in a rom-com.” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Or wearing a knitted scarf and giving a young girl a purpose.” Her voice softened. “You make the world feel lighter … even if just for a little while.”
She saw something flicker across his face — a mix of disbelief and wonder — and before she could overthink it, she leaned in and closed her fingers around his arm, needing him to feel how real this was to her. “You cannot stop making movies. It—”
“Suzette—”
She didn’t let him finish, placing a gentle finger on his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath catch beneath her touch. “Let me finish. I know what I said about being second to a man’s career. And I meant it. I’ve lived that life.”
Her throat tightened, but she pushed through it. “But asking you to stop doing what you were born to do … that would be selfish. Cruel, even. It would rob people of the magic you create on screen.” Her hand slipped down, resting over his heart. “I won’t allow it.”
His eyes closed for a moment, as though steadying himself, and when they opened again, she saw fear and hope tangled together in them.
“Please …” His voice was quiet, rough. “Please don’t ask me to walk away from you.”
The plea carved straight through her. Because in that moment — watching a man the whole world claimed as their own look at her like she was the thing he couldn’t bear to lose — she finally felt the truth beginning to take shape inside her.
She couldn’t bear to losehim.
And she wasn’t the woman from twenty years ago. She was strong, capable, and this marvelous man loved her. The thought steadied her.
Last night, the thought of telling him had felt impossible. Certain he’d look at her differently; certain he wouldn’t understand.
But now … she finally felt safe enough.
Suzette rose to her feet and stepped in front of him. Justin looked up at her, confusion flickering with something far too vulnerable. She lifted her skirt, swung a leg over his and settled onto his lap, straddling him, close enough to feel his breath catch.
Cupping his face in both hands, she held his gaze — held him — as though anchoring them both.
“Before we talk about the future, there’s one more detail about my past I need to tell you.”
His hands settled on her hips, grounding her. “You can tell me anything,” he murmured, voice soft but sure. “Nothing you say will diminish how much I love you.”
Her breath stuttered. She dropped her gaze, toying with the button on his shirt, needing the small distraction to keep from falling apart. The back of her fingers caressed the dusting of hairbehind the tab. “It’s about … when Miem brought Esther and me back here,” she said softly.
*
Justin forced his hands to stay loose and steady. “Tell me,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, even as dread coiled low in his chest.
“After Braam’s death, I only had my job at the church to support Essie and myself. It was barely enough to keep us afloat, but we managed.”
Justin’s stomach tightened. He hated the wordmanaged. The way she said it, like survival came down to scraps.
“Then one of the elders propositioned me. A married elder,” she spat.
Heat flashed through him — anger, sharp and bright. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, but he forced himself to listen, not react.
“I threatened to tell our pastor, and the man backed off. But then his wife publicly accused me of seducing her husband.”
Justin felt his vision blur at the edges. “Suzette …” His voice cracked, helpless, furious on her behalf.
“I tried to defend myself, but she had enough influence to turn the congregation against me. And I was fired.”
He exhaled a shaky breath, the kind that scraped down the throat.Fired. Punished for surviving. For protecting herself. It made him want to tear something apart.
“It placed us in a precarious position,” she continued softly. “I started hunting for jobs immediately, but finding work proved difficult as the church refused to give me a reference. And the money dried up …”
Justin couldn’t stop himself — his hands slid from her waist up to her back, pulling her closer. He needed her nearer, needed her to feel held. Safe. “What did you do?” he whispered.
“I made a placard,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “And stood on a street corner. And begged. Job, money, food. I wasn’t picky.”
