"No major changes without both of us seeing them first," she adds.
"Agreed."
She saves the outline and lowers her laptop halfway.
My hands stay on the keyboard, but I’m not typing anymore.
This is the part I hate.
"I need your help with something."
She waits. I meet her eyes.
"If I'm shooting twelve-hour days, I can't also handle all the logistics. Site access, weather windows, equipment deliveries. Something’s going to drop."
She doesn’t hesitate.
"Good," she says. "Because I can’t run the rebuild and chase vendors at the same time either."
She reaches for her phone.
"I’ll handle the creative work. Someone else will have to handle the logistics."
She looks back at me. "So we get help."
Silence stretches.
I nod once.
"Yeah," I say. Her smile flickers.
She sends the email. "Richard will assign someone. He knows we can't hit this timeline without support."
For a second I picture something else entirely—walking the river at sunset, her shoulder against mine, the city lights coming on one by one.
Rule One.
I inhale slowly.
For tonight, extra support will have to do.
We sit back and look at what we built. Two laptops. One revised outline. One shot list.
Sam’s voice is quiet. "We can do this."
I meet her eyes. "Yes we can."
She stands. I do the same.
"Castellano wants to prove he's the only one who can handle pressure," she says.
"Then we deliver."
***
I'm halfway to my apartment when my phone buzzes.
Text from Sam.
