I don’t look at Dylan. I look at Lucas when I say it, wanting him to know that I mean every word.
“Lucas?” Dylan prompts.
Lucas clears his throat. “I think I used to believe that being composed all the time was the same thing as being in control, that if I could anticipate every outcome and manageevery message, I’d never really have to feel the fallout of anything real.”
He glances at me, and his expression is open in a way that makes my heart race.
“I’ve spent most of my life curating versions of myself. The dutiful son. The steady professional. The guy who says the right thing, even when he’s thinking something else entirely. But Jess, she doesn’t let you get away with that. She sees through spin like it’s glass. Being with her made me realize how much of my life I’d spent editing myself in real time.”
He looks back at Dylan and then at me again, his eyes never wavering.
“So, I guess what I learned is, I don’t want to be the version of me that just survives the day. I want to be someone who actually lives in it. And that means showing up. Even when it’s messy. Even when I get it wrong. Especially then.”
“Last question,” Dylan says, his voice gentler now. “What does this relationship mean to you?”
I look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the depth of what I’m feeling. When I look back up, Lucas is watching me with such tenderness that it takes my breath away.
“This relationship has shown me that love doesn’t have to mean compromise,” I say finally. “It can mean expansion. Growth. Finding someone who challenges you to be more authentically yourself, not less.”
I swallow against the emotion rising in my throat. “What we have is not perfect, but it is real. And that’s what I’ve come to value more than anything. That’s love, I think: seeing someone clearly and choosing them anyway.”
Lucas’s eyes shine with emotion. “She showed me what it means to stand for something,” he says quietly, “and she reminded me that some things, some people, are worth standing beside. Worth fighting for. Worth loving, even when it’s hard.”
The word “loving” hangs in the air between us, charged with meaning.
“Cut,” Dylan says softly.
The crew starts moving instantly, wrapping cables and powering down gear. Dylan smiles at us, clearly satisfied.
“That was incredible,” he says. “The way you two interact, it’s layered, grounded. Complicated but still full of respect. That’s what people connect to. Not perfection—truth.”
I can’t tell if he knows just how right he is.
Dylan packs up his notebook and gives us a thoughtful nod. “I’ll let you two have some privacy. We’ve got all we need. I’ll be in touch, but thanks again. This has been an incredible experience.”
As the door closes behind the crew, silence settles over the apartment. Lucas and I sit facing each other, with the weight of everything we’ve just said hovering between us.
The real conversation is about to begin.
forty-two
. . .
Lucas
The apartment fallssilent as the door closes behind Dylan and his crew. For a moment, neither of us moves. Jess sits at her end of the couch, still holding that pillow like it’s an anchor, while I remain at mine, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands now that the cameras aren’t telling us what to do.
The afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, illuminating dust particles dancing in the air between us. It feels significant somehow—all these tiny, invisible things suddenly made visible in the right light.
“So,” I say finally, breaking the silence. “That was…”
“Intense,” she finishes, offering a small smile.
I nod, studying her face. She looks tired—the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from weeks of tension and a sleepless night—but there’s something else there, too, a cautious hopefulness in her eyes that mirrors what I’m feeling.
“Did you mean it?” I ask, the question slipping out beforeI can consider if it’s the right one. “What you said about us being real?”
She looks down at her hands for a moment and then back up at me with a directness that’s pure Jess. “Every word. Did you?”
