"I have my moments." He sounded pleased. We stayed on the phone for another twenty minutes, neither of us wanting to hang up, until he finally yawned so hard I could hear it through the speaker.
"Go to sleep," I said softly. "You have an early call tomorrow."
"I know. I just... I like talking to you."
"I like talking to you, too."
"Good night, Anna. I love you."
"I love you too. And Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for the flowers. All of them. This place looks ridiculous."
"That was the goal." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Sweet dreams."
When we hung up, I sat there for a moment, phone still warm in my hand, staring at the orchids on my bedside table.
We were doing okay. Better than okay.
We were going to be fine.
I opened my laptop and started writing, Luke's words still echoing in my head. The scene flowed easily now, my character finally finding her way forward.
Yeah. We were definitely going to be fine.
44
LUKE
Week two in LA,and I was starting to find my rhythm. The early call times, the endless takes, Gerald's increasingly bizarre directing notes—it was all becoming familiar in a way that felt almost comfortable.
What made it bearable? Anna.
Every morning, I woke up to a text from her. Sometimes it was just a photo. Maybe her coffee mug, the sunrise over New Orleans, her laptop open with a new word count she was proud of. Sometimes it was longer.
Wrote 3,000 words today. Your plot advice unlocked something.
Be brilliant today. I believe in you.
Gerald sounds unhinged. Channel that chaos.
I saved every single one.
On day ten, a massive box arrived on set, addressed to me. The entire crew gathered around as I opened it, curious about what could require a box that size.
Inside: six king cakes. Each from a different bakery, with little notes taped to the boxes explaining which one was which. "Gambino's—the classic," "Randazzo's—Nonna's favorite," "Dong Phuong—my fave.” Beneath them were pralines wrapped in wax paper, chicory coffee, Roman candy, and, at the very bottom, approximately seven pounds of Mardi Gras beads in purple, green, and gold.
The note on top read:Since you can't come to New Orleans yet, I'm sending it to you. Share with the crew. Love, A.
"Oh my gosh," one of the camera operators said, already reaching for a praline. "Is this from New Orleans?"
"My girlfriend," I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice.
It had been a long day. We'd been filming since five a.m., running the same scene over and over until everyone was exhausted and cranky. But the second that box opened, the entire energy shifted.
Within minutes, the beads were everywhere. The grip team was wearing them. Gerald had at least fifteen strands around his neck and was dramatically catching beads people tossed at him like he was on a parade float. Someone started playing zydeco music from their phone. The king cakes were demolished in record time, and heated debates broke out over which bakery was superior.
