And yet she’d learned so much since she’d come to LA, not just about budgets and licensing, but also about power—the way it incorporated in men’s bodies, how little you had to say to be deferred to, that saying nothing was sometimes the most powerful thing you could do. Ted had never been much of a people person, nor had working in a collaborative art form changed his basic nature, which was reserved, analytical, sometimes cold. He paid no penalty for this. But Phoebe—who equally wished she could be quiet with her own thoughts and short with her instructions—felt the energy shift around her whenever she tried to move through a room the way Ted did. She’d felt the crew in Bryce Canyon resisting when she’d pushed them to give more—but still it had worked! Look how well the arena sequence had turned out—and yet Ted rarely had to ask, so eager were they all to shine for him.

Dragon Lady says we’ve got three more setups to get through tonight.

Ask Dragon Lady if we can keep the searchlights one more day.

They didn’t call him that. It was Phoebe’s job—the unspoken part—to wear the title benignly and graciously. Yet another reason why she knew she had to start fresh, make Warrior Bride on her own steam, without Ted’s help.

And so, after three long years of torturing herself over it, she’d called the number on Jerry’s business card, the one he’d pressed into her hands after the Starfighter premiere. She’d spoken quickly on the phone, spitting out her request as brightly as she could. When Jerry’s assistant invited her to come to the office for an appointment with Jerry and his vice president of development, Phoebe had doubled over with relief. Office, appointment, vice president—each word added up to a professional meeting. Jerry and his team were taking Phoebe seriously.

And why shouldn’t they? She’d gone over and over her deal proposal. She’d written the script and storyboarded the whole thing; she knew what she wanted to do with every shot. And she had the experience, far more than Ted had had when they’d made Starfighter.

No, this was the dress, and this was who she was—professional, elegant, sure of herself. And, yes, a little bit sexy. But not too much.

As she headed for the front door, she saw Ted foraging in the kitchen. He’d decided not to go into the office today after all, and a couple of pizzas were laid out on the butcher block for him and the film’s editor.

“I’m off,” she called out from the foyer.

“Oh,” Ted said when saw her.

“What?”

“You look pretty.” The way he said it, it felt like a question more than a compliment. Did she look pretty? Should she?