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Artemis shifts slightly in the saddle, turning her body toward the cameras while keeping her gaze on me. I stand beside her, one hand resting against the horse, close enough that the edge of her coat brushes my arm.

“Stephen, look at her,” the creative director instructs.

As if I could look anywhere else.

The camera starts clicking rapidly after that.

“Gorgeous. Artemis, chin up just a little. Perfect. Now look at him.”

She does, and just like every other time she looks at me, the entire world disappears.

There’s the woman everyone else craves, the one who looks like she belongs in another universe, somewhere beyond the reach of ordinary men. And then there’s the woman looking at me right now, inviting me into her little frozen corner of the world with nothing more than those honey eyes of hers.

I don’t fucking know what my face is doing. I don’t know if I’m supposed to smile or look away. I only know I can’t stop looking at her.

“Iconic,” Stevie whispers, almost to herself. “Stephen, stay exactly where you are.”

Artemis reaches down, her fingers grazing my shoulder. It’s barely a touch but it feels like she handed me the world.

This is the first time I’m not looking at her from a screen or a from the shadows.

I’m beside her.

I’m where she wants me.

The camera clicks faster.

“Shit,” someone breathes. “This is it. This is the shot. We got it!”

Artemis keeps looking at me and I notice something different in her eyes. They hold a question she hasn’t found the courage to ask, and I wish I could answer it without making her say a single word.

You can trust me, baby.

You don’t have to be afraid of what you feel.

I’m not going anywhere simply because loving you becomes difficult.

I don’t know whether she can read any of that in my expression, but her gaze softens, letting me know that at least she feels it. She feels what words can’t say.

I lift my hand and rest it against the side of the saddle, close to hers.

Our gloved fingers touch.

She doesn’t move away and neither do I.

The camera captures the moment, but I barely register the sound.

All I can think about is how much I want to stay here, with her looking at me like this, without either of us having to pretend that what exists between us is anything less than it is.

I wonder if she knows what she does to me. I wonder if she understands that I could stand here for hours, saying nothing, and still feel as though I had been given something extraordinary simply because she chose to look at me.

Eventually, the photographer lowers his camera and studies the screen.

“Oh.” The quiet surprise in his voice draws the attention of the others, and both Stevie and Junie join him to look at what he captured.

I turn toward the screen.

The photos captured her looking at me as though she wanted to stay right there in that moment with me.