Page 147 of Love on the Byline

Blake expected Ollie to pull out his laptop, but instead hebrought out a large, spiral bound book. The cover was made of thick hide. Whenshe opened it, she found the creamy ivory pages were unlined.

Ollie’s handwriting was neat and fine. She gasped, runningher fingers along the words without reading them.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “My grandfather writes like this.”

He smiled. “Really?”

She nodded, Swallowing, she settled into the sofa and turnedthe page, focusing on the words and not the similarities.

The first morning I woke and realized I’d stoppeddreaming about her, it felt as if my mind had betrayed my heart. Like there hadbeen a war for my senses and my soul was the battlefield. I, like so manysoldiers returning home to a cool welcome, didn’t know myself anymore. Who wasI without her awareness of me? What fixed point in the sky was I to replace herwith, just as elusive and unattainable and necessary as she had been? I didn’twant to drift. I didn’t want to fade. On the off chance that her light mighttouch me again, that I would be called up to serve in the army of her devotion,I remain at the ready. The wait is the appearance of movement when you’restanding still and, in this, I am a master. I hope my dreams of her invade meanew.

Blake didn’t need to ask. She understood why he didn’t wanther to read this. When she turned, Ollie’s eyes were on hers. Hope, fear,shame, and pride all swirling in his cobalt gaze.

She set the book down and took his hands in hers. His wereshaking, so she brought his fingers to her mouth and kissed them, one by one.

His feverish gaze followed her movement. “I’m so glad it’syou,” he said, “here with me. That I’ve found this with you.”

Blake pulled his right hand to her chest, over her heart.She didn’t have the words, like he did, but found she didn’t need them.

The crease in Ollie’s brow, his beautiful brow, unfurled ashe searched her eyes. His breath seemed to stutter out of him as the secondspassed.

She smiled, and he smiled.

She took a deep breath, and he did the same.

And when she released one hand to cup his cheek, OliverBenjamin closed his eyes and whispered her name like it was the only word heknew.

Epilogue

“Okay, everyone,” Bran said. “Quiet down. My boy’s show iscoming on.”

Ollie was too excited to be embarrassed. Bran had invitedeveryone over to watch the premiere of Blackbird, and it felt good tohave the support of his closest friends.

He’d spent three months in his first writers’ room, craftingthe season arc for the new show. Genre television hadn’t been on his radar, buthe had found freedom in writing magical realism. Early buzz for the series wasgood, and he had high hopes the streaming numbers would be solid enough to earnthem a renewal.

“Hey,” Blake wrapped an arm around his waist and gave him asoft kiss on the cheek. “I know you’re not nervous. You can’t be. The pilot isa masterpiece, and the show only gets better from there.”

“You’re biased.” He slid his arm around her back and pulledher close, grateful as always for her solid presence and unwavering confidence.

“I’m really not,” she said, smiling up at him. “Aren’t theyalready talking about renewing it?”

They were, based on the early buzz.

Around the room sat Bran, Noelia, Clark, Val and Sam, aswell as a few friends Ollie had made at Play L.A.—Rudy and his partner, Tre,who were both in the cast of We the People.

Hans walked carefully into the media room with a tray ofglasses. “Who wants a mojito?”

“I’ll take one,” Bran said. He took two, handing one toLorna who sat beside him on one of the two-seaters.

Sam also took one.

“None for you, Val?”

Val smiled, glancing at Sam before she shook her head.“Um...I can’t.”

Bran grinned “Are you on some thirty-day cleanse orsomething?”

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