“What is this?” I asked, my voice catching slightly.
“You said you’ve been stressed about your writing, and I’ve been stressed about the shoot, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncertain. “I thought we could just hide from the world for a few hours.”
I turned to him, my chest tight. “You built a blanket fort.”
“Is it stupid? It’s stupid, isn’t it? I just thought, you know, we were talking about how we’re both only children and never built blanket forts with our siblings, that…”
I kissed him before he could finish, pouring every ounce of gratitude and affection into it. When I pulled back, he looked dazed.
“It’s perfect,” I whispered.
We crawled inside, the blankets creating a cozy cocoon around us. Luke pulled me against his chest, one arm wrapped around my shoulders as we settled in to watch some black-and-white comedy from the 1940s that had us both laughing within minutes.
Halfway through, Luke’s fingers traced absent patterns on my arm. “Anna?”
“Hmm?”
“When I’m in LA… I’m going to miss this. Just being with you.”
I tilted my head to look at him. “I’m going to miss it too.”
“We’ll make it work, though, right?” His voice was vulnerable. “This isn’t just, I mean, it’s not just because we’re stuck in the same house, or?—”
“This is real.” I sat up slightly, cupping his face. “What we have is real.”
He searched my eyes for a moment, then nodded, relief washing over his features. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
He pulled me back against him, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. We stayed like that for hours, wrapped up in each other and our little fort, the world outside temporarily forgotten.
And for those few hours, I let myself believe that distance wouldn’t change anything.
42
LUKE
The daybefore I was set to leave for LA felt surreal. My suitcases sat half-packed in the corner of the bedroom, a physical reminder that this was really happening. In less than twenty-four hours, I'd be on a plane and leaving Anna behind.
I'd been trying not to think about it too hard by throwing myself into last-minute preparations, triple-checking my script notes, anything to avoid the hollow feeling in my chest. But every time I looked around the room and saw Anna perched on the edge of my bed, watching me pack with running commentary, it hit me how much I was going to miss this. Missher.
"You're bringingthatshirt?" she asked, pointing at a faded t-shirt I was folding.
"What's wrong with this shirt?"
"Luke, it has a hole in the armpit."
"It's asmallhole. Character-building hole."
"It's a hole that says, 'I've given up.'" She grabbed it from my hands and tossed it toward the trash can. "You're a movie star. Act like it."
"Hey!" I retrieved the shirt. "This is vintage."
"Vintage hobo, maybe." But she was grinning, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, and went back to packing. I reached for the lavender hoodie draped over my chair. "Remember when you gave this to me?" I asked, holding it up.
Her expression softened. "You're taking it with you?"
"Of course I am." I folded it carefully and placed it on top of everything else in the suitcase. "I'll take this with me wherever I go."
