Page 142 of A Lucky Shot

“What is this?”

“Melanie was looking for an on-set love story, and it was us the whole time. I wanted to show you,” he said. “And if you like it, I want to release it as a special feature.”

“Josh—”

“I started an adaptation of Tideways years ago,” he blurted out. “I could never finish it. But when you showed me your designs, it came to life. You made me see what it could be. I finished it. All because of you.”

“But—” The screen flickered behind her, an image of Cass’s interview now dominating the screen, her own voice narrating the design journey. The shot jump-cut to a still image.

Again, it was her. Her open smile and wide eyes shone from the screen, lights from the dance studio gilding every curve. She looked so free, happy. She looked like she was in love. Josh’s voice narrated the image, conveniently leaving out that it was for the dating profile he was crafting for her, instead pointing out her dance background, her injury.

He’d remembered. Everything.

“So,” he asked, nervously, “do you like it?”

On screen, the camera switched to the field shoot. Both of them bundled in parkas, washed in the winter sun. He tugged her against him, wrapping her close. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he dipped his nose into her hair, his mittened hand gripping her waist. The steam rising from their breath made it look like they were incinerating.

Cass felt her cheeks redden. “Where did that come from?” she mumbled.

“Turns out the paps got more photos than just you and Big D.”

The movie switched to a split-screen, Karl and Stephen howling on one side, trying to narrate a shot of Josh not-so-subtly inching closer to Cass during a break in filming on the other.

“I’m free, and if you’ll have me, I’m yours. No secrets. Nothing hidden. I am so sorry I wasn’t open with you. But I want you to know me, and I want to spend as long as it takes to know everything about you.”

“Josh—”

“And I don’t fucking care about distance. We’ll find a way. I just don’t want to be apart from you anymore. And if you’ll be with me now, I am never letting you go again.”

The tight grip that had held her heart released. “Say it.”

Josh tipped his head back and yelled into the theatre. “I love Cassidy St. Claire, and I need everyone to know it!”

A whoop went up from her friends surrounding her. She traced the angle of his jaw that would clench whenever he was stressed. She ran her fingers over the ridge of his brow that would crease when he argued with someone and would soften when he saw her. Over the spot on his cheeks she knew would turn into divots any second.

A face she already knew so well, and still so much more to learn.

She curled a fist into his shirt to pull him closer. “You’re not bad either, Sexy Dimples.”

“You need to do better than that,” he said. He sealed the length of his body to hers, winding his hand into her hair to tug her head back and force her eyes to meet his, narrowed with a hungry gleam.“Say it.”

“I love you!” Cass giggled. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He dipped his forehead to hers, eyes closed, thumbs swiping over her cheeks. “Excellent,” he breathed. “Now let’s go sit down and finish watching how beautiful you are. Back row. So I can put my hand up your shirt.”

“And then?” she asked, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

“And then we get the fuck out of here, and we do whatever you want as long as it’s with me.”

EPILOGUE

The interviewer paced the sound stage, fiddling with the microphone clipped to her shirt. Thank god the production crew remembered to set up the low-slung director’s chairs instead of the standard, tall size. The clause was highlighted in the contract. In pencil scrawled beside it, and underlined wasAka do not make her climb anything. Bad knee. We all heard what happened last time this detail was forgotten.

He’d gone on the warpath before she’d talked him down, and still he cut the interview after three minutes.

She sneaked a glance at the open door. Nothing.

“Are they on set yet?” she asked the PA.

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