Chapter 5
five
. . .
Sophia
I dig into my braised short ribs, barely pausing to chew before asking, "So, what did you think of the morning? I mean, be honest. I can take it."
My words come out muffled, but I don't care. I'm starving, and apparently, filming makes me eat like a linebacker.
I glance at Grant and almost laugh at how calm he looks, sitting across from me with that perfect posture, his sleeves rolled up just enough to showcase those strong forearms. His glasses sit slightly lower on his nose, and the way he glances at me over the frames makes him look both serious and unfairly attractive.
Meanwhile, I'm shoveling food into my mouth like I haven't eaten in a week.
Not exactly glamorous, but it's not like he's thinking about me that way.
And even if he did, we're colleagues, and he's a good decade older than me.
That thought helps me relax—lets me be more of myself. No Hollywood persona, just Sophia.
Grant smirks, his dark brown eyes glinting with amusement. "Hungry?"
"Don't judge me."
"I would never."
His gaze lingers on me, and I find myself staring at his mouth. He has a beautiful mouth—soft, full, expressive, with those little lines at the corners when he smiles. I'm so distracted that I don't notice the smear of sauce on my lip until his brow quirks.
"You've got a little something," he says, motioning to his lip. I swipe at my mouth with my napkin, but he shakes his head. "Not quite."
Before I can react, he leans forward and brushes the pad of his thumb across the corner of my mouth. The touch is light, barely there, but it sets off a spark I didn't expect. My breath catches as his eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the space between us seems to vanish.
Then, just as quickly, he sits back, brushing his thumb against his napkin like it was nothing. "All clear," he says, his tone casual, but his gaze flicks away, betraying the tension.
"Thanks," I manage, trying to ignore the way my skin tingles where he touched me.
"Honestly? You were great this morning," he says, seamlessly steering the conversation back. "Natural. I've seen a lot of producers fumble through their first day, but you handled it like you've been doing it for years."
My stomach flips, and it's not because of the food. It's the way he says it—like he believes in me more than I do.
"Really?" I ask as heat rises to my cheeks. "I don't know what I'd do without your guidance, though. This is a whole new ballgame for me. I can act all day, but producing?" I shake my head. "It's a lot."
When I started acting, I was enamored with the idea that I could transform into anything I wanted.
I could pretend to be happy, sad, or angry.
It was so fun to shift into a character who was a teen with psychic powers or a secret FBI hacker.
The more I was around the magic of TV and movies, the more I learned about how it all came together.
In the beginning, someone handed me a script and told me where to stand, and then I played the part.
It didn't take long before I thought about what I would've done in the script or how I would have blocked a scene.
I shadowed some friendly directors and producers and realized I might enjoy creating movies as much as I enjoy starring in them.
When I signed with Blair, I told her it was a priority to expand my experience to behind the camera, and I can't believe she made it happen so quickly. Well, she and Grant.
"You're doing fine. And I'll be here if you need anything."
"I appreciate that more than you know. Is it wrong to admit that I'm nervous?"
"Not at all. If you want, I could…spend more time on set. You know, make sure things are running smoothly." The way he says it, it's almost like the words surprise him.
My brow furrows. "Seriously? You'd do that?"
He shrugs like it's no big deal, but there's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. "Yeah, why not? I'm invested in this, too."
The quiet intensity in his voice tightens something in my chest. I nod slowly. "Ok. I mean, having someone like you in my corner…it means a lot."
We lapse into a comfortable silence until I ask, "How's Hazel, by the way? It was great to meet her."
Grant's face softens, and for a moment, the weight he always seems to carry melts away. "She's great. Loves first grade. She's been obsessed with outer space lately. Says she wants to be an astronaut."
I laugh, picturing tiny Hazel in a spacesuit. "That's adorable. She's so full of life. You can tell she's the best thing that's ever happened to you."
"She is," he says quietly, almost to himself. Then he looks back at me, his gaze searching. "I didn't plan on being a dad. It just…happened. But I wouldn't change it for anything."
The love and quiet pride in his voice make my heart ache.
"She's lucky to have you," I say softly. "If you don't mind me asking, is she with you most of the time?"
Grant hesitates. His eyes meet mine, and then he sighs.
"Yeah. Her mom, Geneva, and I…it was never serious.
She's focused on her career, and I don't begrudge her for that.
I try not to talk about it too much because people can be harsh when hearing that a woman wants to prioritize her career when she has a child. "
He looks up at me to see if I'm one of those people.
I don't know if I am. I can't imagine having a newborn baby placed in my arms and not being there for every milestone and experience.
But at this age, I can't imagine giving up a career I love when I'm starting to see all my effort pay off.
Geneva was my age when she gave birth, so I understand how she might have felt.
"I get that. It's a tough balance. She's lucky she had your support—in a variety of ways."
"It scared the hell out of me. Geneva moved in before Hazel was born and stayed through her maternity leave. That helped. We also hired a nanny, who's been with us ever since. She's incredible—practically family."
"That's smart. I hear nurse nannies are the way to go."
"Absolutely. Hazel adores her."
I want to ask how much Geneva sees Hazel, but it feels like Grant has already shared more than he planned.
"What about you?" he asks. "Do you want kids one day?"
"Oh, well…I don't know. Some days, the idea of a family seems nice. My parents were great—family vacations, holidays, all that. But I can't really see myself with a partner, so it's hard to imagine having kids."
"Technically, you don't need a partner."
"Just a nurse nanny, right?"
"Exactly," he says with a grin. "But for what it's worth, I think you'd make a great mom. The care and attention you've given this production is impressive."
"Thanks, Grant. I appreciate that."
We lapse into an easy silence, and I realize how natural it feels to talk to him. It's like we've known each other for years, even though we haven't.
I take another big bite, and Grant chuckles. "You're going to need a second lunch just to keep up with your appetite."
Grinning, I swallow. "What can I say? I'm working hard. Gotta fuel the machine."
He laughs and then takes a bite of his sandwich.
I pause, reaching out to touch his arm. "But seriously, thanks for everything. I know you've got a million things on your plate."
He looks at where my hand rests on his arm and then back at me, his gaze steady. "Some things are worth making time for."