“I know,” Clara said before changing the subject. They had reached her limit on emotional communication. John didn’t try to force it. He’d probably reached his limit, too, on this particular topic. He hung up after Clara filled him in on the subsequent dates with the craft services girl John had introduced her to.

John walked back into the hotel and upstairs, reflecting about new beginnings. He debated whether to knock on Anna’s door, but she appeared to be waiting at his, hesitating before knocking.

“Anna,” he called softly.

She turned and smiled at him. He was beginning to catalog her smiles, and this was her tired smile.

“Did it go okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I was able to convince Dan that we could still get it done without Cole and no additional money or extra time.” She looked up at him, a worried look on her face. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. I just wanted to apologize. The studio will still work with you on your movie? There’s no trouble on your script?”

John stopped short. She was concerned these ridiculous rumors would somehow hurt him. “I’m not worried about it.”

“I don’t want things to be difficult for you because of me.”

“I told you—I’m not worried.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her, but he’d decided to wait until he was out of the option altogether. Then he would come clean. He wanted there to be resolution before she knew. Clara had already sent the lawyer’s number, and John planned to call her as soon as possible. If he got good news, he could tell Anna right away.

“I still have some work to do tonight,” she said, retreating to her own room. “I should get some sleep.”

John didn’t want to leave things this way. He didn’t like watching Anna go into her bedroom alone, but he needed to fix things with the option, then he would explain.

He walked into his room and made some calls.

#

ANNA WALKED OUT OF her hotel room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She had wanted to sleep with John last night, but they had been acting as though they had all the time in the world. She still had a shoot to finish, and now she had to wrestle with the fact that her ex-husband wanted to sabotage this tiny, should-be-forgotten movie. She worried for John even though he wasn’t worried for himself.

The early-morning wake-up calls felt earlier each day. Between a shower and coffee, she wasn’t sure which she needed more. Four more days. Four more days, and we’ll be done.

She looked up at the sound of another door opening. It was John, sleepy-eyed and soft. He wore flannel pajamas with a worn T-shirt, bare feet on the wood floor.