2. Dylan
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Dylan
I finally catch her at breakfast on a Tuesday morning, and the relief that floods through me when I see her sitting at the kitchen island is almost embarrassing.
Three days. It’s been three days since I’ve had more than a passing glimpse of my wife, and even now, watching her scroll through her phone with a cup of coffee cooling beside her, I feel like I’m looking at something precious that might disappear if I move too fast.
“Hey, stranger.” I drop a kiss on the top of her head as I pass behind her toward the espresso machine. “You’re up early.”
Selene looks up, and her expression shifts, a flash of resistance, before she smooths it into a smile. “I could say the same about you. I thought you had that sunrise meeting with the cinematographer.”
“Pushed it to ten.” I turn my attention to the espresso, mostly so I don’t have to examine why her smile looked like it took effort. “Figured I’d actually eat breakfast at my own table for once. Revolutionary concept, I know.”
“Groundbreaking.” Her voice is light, teasing, but there’s an edge underneath it that I choose not to hear. “Should I alert the media?”
I laugh and slide onto the stool beside her, close enough that our knees touch. She doesn’t lean into me the way she usually does, but she doesn’t pull away either, so I count it as a win.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” I take a sip of my espresso and watch her face over the rim. “I wanted you to know about this first, before it hits the trades.”
Selene sets her phone down, and I have her full attention now.
Those dark eyes that have been haunting screens since she was fourteen focus on me with an intensity that still makes my chest tight after seven years.
God, she’s beautiful. Even in the soft morning light with no makeup and her hair piled on top of her head, her beauty remains breathtakingly radiant.
“I officially signed on as a co-producer for the new project last night.” I can’t keep the excitement out of my voice.
This deal has been months in the making, and landing it feels like the culmination of everything I’ve been working toward.
“Full creative control. The studio’s giving me the final cut, which you know never happens on a project this size. ”
Selene’s eyebrows lift, and I see genuine surprise flash across her features. “You locked the deal? Dylan, that’s… that’s huge.”
“I know.” I’m grinning now, the kid from nowhere who still can’t quite believe he made it this far. “The script is incredible, Selene. It’s this intimate character study about obsession and identity, and the way the writer handles the third act-”
I stop myself, suddenly aware of what I’m about to say.
We used to break down third acts together.
That was our thing, back when we were both hungry, building something from nothing.
She’d read my scripts and tear them apart with surgical precision, and I’d fight her on every note until I realized she was almost always right.
When did we stop doing that?
I push the thought away before it can take root. “Anyway, I know you’ve been so focused with your brand deals and photoshoots the past few days, and I didn’t want to bother you with all the contract negotiations, so…”
Offering her a warm smile, I hope she understands that I was trying to be considerate. She has her own career to manage. Her own schedule. Her own obligations that don’t revolve around my projects.
“I wasn’t able to talk it out with you before I signed.” I reach over and squeeze her hand. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”
Selene is quiet for a moment, and I can’t read the expression on her face. It’s somewhere between surprise and something else, something that looks almost like hurt, but that doesn’t make sense. This is good news. Great news. The kind of news that calls for champagne and celebration.
“That’s wonderful, Dylan.” Her voice is measured, careful. “I’m happy for you.”
“There’s more.” I’m practically bouncing on my stool now, eager to share the part I’m most excited about. “I hired Claudette.”
The shift in Selene’s face is immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes go wide, her lips part slightly, and for just a second, she looks as if I’ve slapped her.
“Claudette?” She says the name like it’s a foreign word she’s never encountered before. “My sister Claudette?”
“Your stepsister, yeah.” I’m confused by her reaction, but I barrel forward, certain that once I explain my reasoning, she’ll understand.
“Her agency reached out a few weeks ago, and when I saw her reel, I was blown away. She has this raw energy, this instinct for the work that’s really rare in someone so new to producing. ”
I think about all the times Selene talked about her younger stepsister when we first started dating.
The way her eyes would light up when she described Claudette’s ambition, her hunger, her refusal to accept anything less than excellence.
Selene used to say she couldn’t wait to work with her someday, that they’d take the industry by storm together.
“You always used to talk about how talented she was,” I continue, watching Selene’s face for the excitement I’m expecting to see. “How you hoped you’d work together in the same field someday. I thought…” I trail off, suddenly uncertain. “I thought you’d be happy.”
Selene’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “You thought I’d be happy that you hired my stepsister for a project you didn’t tell me about, to do a job we used to do together?”
The words land harder than I expect them to. I blink, trying to recalibrate. “That’s not… I wasn’t trying to replace you, Selene. I just thought, with your schedule-”
“My schedule.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Right. My very demanding schedule of photoshoots and brand deals.”
I frown, sensing that I’ve stepped into territory I don’t understand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just know you’ve been busy, and I didn’t want to add to your plate.”
“When have you ever worried about adding to my plate before?” Selene’s voice is quiet, but there’s a tremor underneath it that I don’t recognize. “We used to stay up until three in the morning breaking down scripts together, Dylan. You used to value my input on your projects.”
“I still do.” The protest comes automatically, but even as I say it, I’m trying to remember the last time I actually asked for her opinion on anything creative.
When I used to bring a script home for her to read.
The way we used to sit across from each other and argue about character motivations until we were both exhausted and falling into bed together.
I can’t remember.
“Look, I know things have been crazy lately.” I reach for her hand again, but she pulls it away under the pretense of reaching for her coffee cup.
“The pre-production schedule has been insane, and I’ve been at the studio more than I’ve been home.
But this project is going to be incredible, and I really think you’ll love what we’re doing with it. ”
“We.” Selene repeats the word flatly. “You and Claudette.”
“And the rest of the team, yeah.” I don’t understand why she’s fixating on this. “Baby, I thought this would make you happy. You’ve always wanted Claudette to succeed. You used to say that all the time.”
Something shutters behind Selene’s eyes. She takes a long sip of her coffee, and when she sets the cup down, her face is smooth and unreadable.
“You’re right,” she says, and her voice is so carefully controlled that it makes my chest ache without knowing why. “I did say that. A long time ago.”
“So you’re happy?” I search her face for confirmation. “This is a good thing?”
“Of course.” She stands up from the island, gathering her phone and her coffee cup. “I have a fitting at eleven. I should go get ready.”
“Selene.” I catch her wrist before she can walk away. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
For just a moment, I see something wounded flash across her features. She looks at me like she’s waiting for me to understand something important, something I should already know.
Then the moment passes, and she’s smiling again, that practiced smile I’ve seen her give to cameras and strangers and people who don’t matter.
“Nothing’s wrong.” She leans down and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Congratulations on the project, Dylan. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”
She walks away before I can respond, and I’m left sitting at the kitchen island wondering why her congratulations felt like a goodbye.
The weeks blur together after that.
Pre-production kicks into high gear, and I’m at the studio from before dawn until well after midnight most days. The project is everything I hoped it would be and more. It is challenging, ambitious, the kind of film that reminds me why I fell in love with this industry in the first place.
And Claudette is a revelation.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Selene always said her stepsister had raw talent, and she wasn’t wrong.
Claudette throws herself into every aspect of the production with an intensity that borders on obsessive.
She’s the first one at the studio and the last one to leave, even after the principal photography has begun.
She anticipates problems before they arise and solves them before I even know they exist. She pushes back on my ideas with the same fearless certainty that Selene used to show, and I find myself looking forward to our creative debates in a way I haven’t experienced in years.
“The blocking in scene twelve isn’t working.
” Claudette drops into the chair beside me in the editing suite, pointing at the monitor.
“You’ve got her entering from the left, but the eyeline doesn’t match the emotional beat.
She should come from the right, so she’s moving toward the light instead of away from it. ”
Studying the footage, I can immediately see what she means. “You’re right. How did I miss that?”