“Have you ever created something you didn’t like and gave up on it in the end?”

“Plenty of things,” he said as he went to the refrigerator. “I think most artists are their own worst critics.”

“What do you do with the ones you don’t like?”

He poured himself a glass of milk and downed it. “I toss them.”

“In the trash?” She set her computer aside and got up. “I hope you’re kidding. There’s got to be a lot of people who would love to have what you cast off.”

Did she want one of his paintings? She’d been complimentary of his work, especially last night. She’d had some nice things to say about him, too, but he was trying not to think about that, because then he started thinking about what’d happened right after. “I have to be happy with it, or it doesn’t leave my studio,” he said, unapologetically. To him, his work had to have some integrity. He wasn’t going to lower his standards.

“I can understand why you’d only want your best out there,” she conceded. “Just seems like a waste, given that what’s bad to you is probably still very good to others.”

He gestured at her laptop. “What’d you learn?”

“About?”

He raised his eyebrows. “The Oscars.”

Obviously not pleased that he’d caught her, she scowled at him. “My name is on some lists, but it’s all just speculation. Doesn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if the film was nominated, though. It was an excellent script, and our director did a fabulous job.”

He could tell she was trying to talk herself down so that she wouldn’t be disappointed later. She’d faced so much disappointment of late. “Whether anyone else recognizes it or not, Maxi told me you were the one who brought the script to life, that it was your performance that set the tone for your costar, too, even though he’s a big deal in Hollywood right now.”

A blush crept into her cheeks, but he could tell she was flattered, which had been his intent. She deserved to enjoy at least some accolades for what she’d accomplished. How many people ever made it to the level of acting she had? “Maxi’s giving me too much credit,” she said.

“Why don’t we watch your movie together tonight?” he asked.

“No way.”

“Why not? I haven’t seen it.”

“You don’t need to see it. You’re not a big movie buff. You’ve said so before. And that’s fine.”

He was suddenly much more interested in viewing the film. But in case it would only remind her of what she might have done if only—he didn’t push. “What should we do tonight, then?”

“You don’t have to see your family?”