How did I get so lucky? Anna’s heart clenched. Maybe it was time to stop worrying about what the press thought. They hadn’t cared about her in years. This was what she wanted—waking up with John and not worrying over the past.

“Anna?” John sounded serious, and her heart stilled with concern.

“Yeah?”

“Can we take a picture?” John asked.

“A what now?”

“I don’t have any pictures of you. It would be nice.” John’s hair was mussed from sleep, and his voice was rough.

Anna nodded, unable to put into words how it made her feel. She didn’t like having her photo taken. But she knew that John meant what he said, and if he just wanted a photo, that was all it was. He didn’t have ulterior motives.

John pulled her down to him, and she rested her head on his chest, blankets pulled around them. Her hair was a mess, and she had bags under her eyes, but he wanted a memory. She wanted one too. It was a small thing, but it felt big and important in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

John held up his phone and snapped the picture.

In the midst of all the chaos, worry, and work, there was something real here, something she could rely on.

“John,” Anna said, rousing him. “I was wondering...”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The past week had been fun and exhausting, ducking into closets and making the movie together. They had—fortunately for the picture, but unfortunately for them—spent the vast majority of their time on the shoot. The schedule required nothing less. Still, it had been exhilarating.

John looked at the picture of the two of them. She was so lovely in his T-shirt and in his bed, and he wished they didn’t have to go to work.

“Your script,” Anna said as she sat up in the bed and reached for it, where it sat on the desk nearby. “Can I read it? Only if you want, I mean. I just want to read it, not give you notes if you don’t want them.”

John really wanted her opinion, and he knew she would take it seriously. She would tell him exactly what she thought. But she also seemed nervous that he might turn her down, that he might not want her to read it. It warmed his heart that she asked.

“Yeah, I want your opinion.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “I shouldn’t have dismissed you so easily that day at the bar.”

John smiled, pulling her to him. They weren’t late yet, and the door was locked. He wasn’t ready to face the day with its responsibilities, call sheets, and phone calls. John carefully set the script on his desk.

“And it’s a good thing too. Otherwise, we would have spent the afternoon talking about how amazing I am instead of kissing.”