Page 44 of Highlands Summer Wedding

Angus’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We’re talking serious money here. Where’s he planning to get that kind of cash?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. Unless… we go smaller. Dig into the personal stories. Rewrite it into something cheaper we can finish within budget. A prestige indie.”

Angus nodded slowly. “Flip it to a streaming platform. The crew keeps working. It could work.”

No one spoke.

Caitlin squinted at him. “Since when did my fiancé know anything about film distribution?”

Angus picked up his scotch. “I know a little about a lot of things.”

He said it lightly. But he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

I rapped my knuckles on the table. “That’s it. We focus on one or two characters and their experiences, maybe even only show one battle, and shoot that all really tight.” My cheeks burned, and I realized I was bouncing my knee. “God, I need to find Max.”

Caitlin reached across the table and squeezed my fingers. “Go get yer man, lass,” she said, and I looked up to see Max pushing through the door.

I rose to my feet. “We’ve figured it out. A way to save the film.”

CHAPTER 17

Our cottage.I’d started thinking of it that way without noticing.

Maxflippedopenhiscomputerand pulled uptheday’s footage.

I pointed at the screen. “See that clip—the extreme close-up of the fear in his eyes? And look at this one where he turns and his friend has already fallen.” I leaned forward. “You don’t need explosions. With the right music, the right shots, maybe a little backstory about who these men were before the battle—their hopes, their families—shooting this small would actually make it bigger.”

Max was quiet for a moment, watching the footage.

“It’s already there,” he said finally. “We just have to let it be what it is.”

Neither of us said anything after that. The footage kept playing. At some point I became very aware of how close we were sitting, both of us leaning toward the screen, our shoulders touching. He turned to say something and stopped, his face only inches from mine.

The moment stretched between us.

He kissed me softly, like a question.

A question I wanted to answer but didn’t have the words yet.

For a second, we both just froze.

Somehow that didn’t stop us from talking at the same time.

“Do you think it’ll work—?” I asked, just as Max said, “We need to call a lawyer?—”

I leaned back against the cushions. “Yeah, we need to see if we have any legal rights left to make the movie—who wrote the script?”

“I wrote the original one, and now the two of us are doing the rewrite.” He paused. “I don’t know. The rights are complicated.”

Max’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “DGA gives me the right to finish shooting and direct through post. Unless I was fired for cause.” He looked up. “Was I?”

We both searched in silence for a few minutes.

“There’s something here about the financier acting as producer,” I offered.

“Not the case for us.” He rubbed his temples. “Bottom line—I need to call the studio, explain everything, and pray they still want me.”

I frowned. “What about my visa situation?”