Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Hey, beautiful. Just wanted to let you know everything’s going well. The script is coming along nicely. It’s a new experience writing, but I feel like I’m making good progress. How are things today?
The simple texts like this, the everyday beauty of talking with my husband, sometimes seem the most special.
One hand resting on my belly, a smile spreads across my lips, so much brighter than the sun outside. I remember the flashlight when he proposed to me, the glimmering in his eyes, and the single tear on his cheek.
It’s crazy, me running a team, even a small one. But I think I’m doing well. Natasha called me earlier and said thanks again for the therapy money. It’s really helping her. She seems a lot happier. And she’s talking about Mom more. She never used to do that.
I must’ve caught my husband on a break because he immediately responds just as I’m unpacking my homemade lunch. Of course, I could buy it here, but it feels very wifely to make Weston and me lunch in the morning.
It’s not crazy, he replies. You’ve worked hard. You’ve proved your worth. And your passion for this subject is off the charts. I bet everybody can see that. Your first road-safety campaign was a hit. As for Natasha, tell her she’s welcome. I’m happy to help.
My first campaign was a small social media thing.
This one is in conjunction with a large charity.
Another text follows.
You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.
Thanks, I reply. I’m a little worried, but it’s also a great opportunity. Tell me about writing.
He’s working on a script with Patrick London, a director he was shadowing a few months ago. Weston wants to learn everything he can about the process before he tries it himself.
It makes me admire him even more.
A lot of men in his position would simply take a job. It’s not as if movie studios wouldn’t offer him one.
What do you want to know? he asks.
I smile. Anything. Everything.
My acting skill helps, he replies. We’re able to bounce dialogue around a lot easier. Patrick’s one hell of an idea man, and I’m learning a lot. There’s a romantic element to the story. I’m drawing on us, and it feels so real, so vivid, Alice.
A romantic element?
My belly churns, and I wonder if it’s our precious bump sending me a signal.
Weston mentioned he might play the lead role.
He replies, If it involves anything like that, I won’t be acting in the movie. You’re the only romance I need, on and off-screen. If movie companies have a problem with that, they can kiss my ass. We’ve got enough money so we never have to work again, and neither would our children.
Love fills me up.
I’m surprised I don’t overflow with it.
I can’t wait to see you later, I text.
Being apart from you is always torture, he replies. I love you.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Weston
I walk through the studio, Maxie in the baby carrier, close to my chest.
We named our daughter after my brother, even if I was unsure at first.
“I want her to be her own person.”
“She will be,” Alice said, her eyes glimmering with tears as she sat up in the birthing bed, our precious bundle in her arms. “This is an homage, a tribute. Not… not a rebirth.”
I leaned over, kissed the tears from her cheeks, and tenderly kissed my daughter’s forehead.
Now, I walk to the rear of the studio. I’m here to watch my woman’s first directorial gig. She hasn’t got aspirations to be a director, but when the road-safety company asked for her to oversee the commercial, she couldn’t turn it down.
“What do you think, huh?” I whisper, holding Maxie’s tiny, adorable hand. “Do you think Mommy will do well?”
The crew isn’t here yet. However, I have the keys from the production company and ensured I was here early so it wasn’t all too overwhelming for Maxie.
I take her up the stairs to a small office that overlooks the studio.
We’re here, Alice. Don’t worry if you can’t reply. I know you’re busy. I just wanted to wish you good luck and I know you’ll do great.
Maxie sleeps, breathing softly. She’s got the ability to scream as if telling the world she’s going to be one hell of a singer one day, but she seems to love it in the carrier, being close to me, and I melt every time she makes a soft sleeping noise.
Alice responds a few minutes later.
It’s so nice to think of you two there supporting me. I won’t lie, and I’m pretty nervous. But I’m determined, too. How’s my little lady doing?
“You want to text Mommy?” I say, taking Maxie’s hand and guiding it to the keyboard.
I grin at myself, trying to imagine the man I was before I met Alice being so sentimental. It’s unthinkable.