Page 117 of The Casting Couch

I didn’t push.I just said, “Come upstairs.”

He hesitated for half a second, then nodded.

We took the stairs.

Not because the elevator was broken, but because I had too much energy to stand still.Bradley didn’t complain, just followed behind me, one step at a time, like he wasn’t sure if this was real.I kept glancing back to make sure he was still there.I unlocked the door and pushed it open, heart pounding like it wanted to climb out of my chest and hug him itself.

He stepped inside slowly, like it might vanish if he moved too fast.I watched him take it all in—my couch, my terrible framed movie posters, the crooked lamp I still hadn’t fixed, the coffee cups I forgot to rinse out.The air was thick with the scent of the candle I lit earlier, the one I bought for no good reason that now smelled like a whole new life.

Bradley turned in a slow circle, and then he looked at me.

I didn’t say a word.

I just stepped forward, grabbed him by the front of his hoodie, and kissed him.

Hard.

Like I’d been waiting my whole life to do it without fear, without guilt, without glass or bars or countdown clocks.I kissed him like a promise.Like I was trying to pour everything I hadn’t been able to say into his mouth and hope he understood.

He kissed me back with everything he had.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and clinging, I rested my forehead against his.

“Live with me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.“Please.I know it’s fast.I know it’s a lot.But I don’t want to waste any more time pretending I don’t want you here.This is your home—if you want it.”

He didn’t answer right away.

He just looked at me.Eyes wide, full of something raw and disbelieving, like I’d handed him the moon and asked if he wanted it.

Then he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, voice cracking.“I want it.I want you.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave.Relief, joy, disbelief.I laughed—this wild, giddy sound I didn’t even recognize—and then kissed him again, softer this time, smiling against his mouth like an idiot.

“I love you,” I murmured, my lips brushing his.

He looked stunned for a second.And then he whispered it back.

“I love you, too.”

Just like that.

Like it was simple.Like it were true.

Like maybe this time, we were both finally free.

Epilogue

Nessa- Two Years Later

Two years ago, if you’d told me I’d willingly share an office with Bradley Mitchell—the same little smart-mouthed felon who once ghosted a lube sponsor and accidentally sexted our company group chat—I would’ve laughed so hard I’d have needed a medic and a panty change.

And yet… here we were.

Our shared office at Boys On Film wasn’t big.Hell, “cozy” was the Realtor word for it.“Cramped” was the honest one, but we’d made it work.His side had a desk, a tiny fake ficus, and color-coded folders labeled things like “Talent Contracts” and “Prospective Partnerships.”My side had a mini fridge full of Chardonnay, a unicorn stress ball I’d stolen from Dimitri, and a framed photo of me flipping the bird at Moira.Balance.

Bradley was hunched over his laptop, chewing on a pen cap while he drafted a contract for one of our newest signings, Chase Granger.Stage name: Chase Magnum.Yeah, that Chase Magnum.Blond, bouncy, built like a lifeguard in a porn parody of Baywatch, and somehow convinced that lube counted as sunscreen.We loved him.

---