“I want to keep working. Never know when it’s all going to end.”
“Do you have a fear of things ending?”
“Don’t you?”
That was the most honest moment she’d ever had with her new friend.
Jesse stood when she made her way to the table’s end. “Good to see you.”
“And you.” She gave him a shy smile.
Jeremiah tapped his glass with a fork, drawing everyone’s attention. Chloe sat in the vacant seat next to Jesse and faced her director.
“When Chris decides to grace us with his presence, we’ll get started. Has everyone met Jesse? Chloe, why don’t you introduce him.”
“Me?” She glanced around. All eyes were on her. Waiting. “Y-you discovered him, Jer.”
“Yes, but he’s your neighbor.”
Chloe peered at the screenwriter-slash-actor-slash-MIT-grad. What could she say? Broad shouldered and winsome, wearing jeans and a fitted, gray T-shirt with his hair clipped and styled, he looked... good. Amazing, to be honest.
She swallowed. “Well, he’s...” Settled. Content. And never far from her mind. So much so, she prayed about it this morning.Please scrub him from my thoughts.One kiss and a pizza dinner did not warrant this sort of budding preoccupation. “Smart.” The rest of the table watched and waited. “Graduated from MIT with some engineering degree.”
“Jolly good.” Sir Craig, helping her along.
“WroteBound by Lovebased on a letter his great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather wrote.”
“Good golly, how many greats is that?” Sir Craig again.
“Six,” Jesse said, winking at Chloe.
“He wrote this screenplay to finish a love story his ancestorsnever could.” He nodded at her, and the warm familiarity she felt every time she was with him passed through her.
“This is his first movie, and I’m so honored to be in it.”
“Here, here,” echoed around the table.
Jesse squeezed her hand under the table.
Jeremiah rose from his seat, holding up his phone. “Painter is not here, no surprise, and not answering my calls or text. Let’s get going. Jesse, why don’t you read Hamilton’s part? Someone give Chloe the fresh pages. We’ve rewritten the first scene again—refined it.”
“Don’t you want to wait for Chris?”
“No. And if you don’t start reading for him, I’m going to rethink his role in this picture. Let’s go.” Jeremiah flipped open his script and read the scene setting. “‘Upcountry South Carolina, Kingsley estate, 1780. Esther sitting at her desk in the library with a book and microscope.’” He peered down the long table toward Chloe and Jesse. “Action.”
ESTHER: Hamilton... you startled me. How did you get in here?
HAMILTON: Millie. Though she assured me you’d not want to be disturbed. (Walks to the desk, picks up a book.) Isaac Newton,Method of Fluxions. So you enjoy a bit of casual reading?
ESTHER: You mock me, sir.
HAMILTON: Nay, rather, I hide my ignorance of such studies. What have you under your microscope?
ESTHER: A poor deceased butterfly. Peer through the lens. Such beauty and detail. The finest scientific minds cannot design such a creature.
HAMILTON (Peers briefly through the microscope): It’s as beautiful as the one gazing at it. Esther, I must speak with you.
ESTHER (Moves to the chairs by the fireplace): You sound so serious, Hamilton.
