So I did. I told her about the stunt that took twelve takes, about Gerald's increasingly cryptic notes, about how I'd forgotten my lines twice and felt like an idiot.
"You're not an idiot," she said firmly. "You're tired. There's a difference."
"I just... I want to be good at this, Anna. I want to prove I deserve this role."
"Luke." Her voice was gentle but insistent. "You already deserve it. They cast you because you're talented. Because you're perfect for this. One bad day doesn't erase that."
I closed my eyes, letting her words sink in. "I love you."
"I love you too. Take a shower, eat something, and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be better."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really proud of you. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days."
Six weeks in, and we had it down to a science. Morning texts. Evening calls. Voice messages throughout the day. She sent me photos of her writing progress. I sent her videos from the set (the ones Gerald approved). We traded playlist links. She mailed me books she thought I'd like. I sent flowers on random Tuesdays just because.
"We're really good at this," she said one night, her face pixelated slightly on my phone screen.
"We are," I agreed. "It's not the same as being together, but?—"
"But we're making it work."
"Yeah. We are."
She smiled at me through the screen, and even though she was 1,800 miles away, even though I couldn't touch her or hold her or kiss her, it felt like enough.
For now, it felt like enough.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you too. Now tell me about Gerald's latest insane note. I need a good story for Lucy."
And just like that, we fell back into our rhythm. Talking, laughing, supporting each other across the distance.
We were killing this long-distance thing.
45
ANNA
I was finally finishedwith my book. I sat at my desk, staring at the final draft of my superhero story. It was the first thing I’d written in years that felt like it had any real heart. The first thing since the story I wrote about my mother in college.
But the ending of this story, in which the heroine finds strength in admitting her fears, left me uneasy.
How could I write about bravery when I couldn’t even summon enough courage to send this out?
With a sigh, I closed my laptop, telling myself it wasn’t ready. After one-hundred rejections, maybe it was time to give up. I was tired of chasing after dreams that only ended in disappointment.
Luke had called every night since he left. His world now felt galaxies away from mine, and he always seemed so busy.
The sound of my phone jolted me from my thoughts. His name lit up the screen.
“Anna.” His voice was warm and familiar, and for a second, it felt like no time had passed.
