Page 77 of Take Two

Applause rises from every direction as crew members step out from behind cameras, lighting rigs, and production tents. Someone whistles loudly enough to cut through the clapping. A few people call my name while others cheer for Daniel Mercer, who was on set this morning. I laugh as the weight of the last three months finally begins to lift from my shoulders.

Kirk leaves the monitors and crosses toward me, clapping hard enough to make sure I hear him above everyone else.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today marks Cyaire’s final day with us and the completion of his work on Blue Line,” he announces, raising his voice for the gathered cast and crew. “He gave Daniel Mercer everything we could have asked for and then found a way to give us more. This film would not be what it is without him.”

The applause swells again, and I press one hand against my chest, genuinely overwhelmed by the faces surrounding me. These people have seen me tired, frustrated, soaked in artificial rain, buried beneath layers of winter wardrobe during a Seattle heat wave, and standing on the other side of a hockey bench pretending I understood a game that once felt completely foreign to me. Somewhere along the way, they became more than the people I worked beside. They became the people who helped me bring Daniel Mercer to life.

“Thank you,” I say, turning slowly so I can include as many of them as possible. “All of you. I couldn’t have done this without every person standing here.”

My gaze moves through the crowd until it finds Cameron near the production tent, clapping with a rare, open smile on his face. Jamie stands several feet away beside a handful of Vipers representatives, his eyes fixed on me as he applauds, pride written all over his face.

This is the beginning of our final two days together. Two days without call sheets, early mornings, wardrobe fittings, or anyone needing either of us somewhere else. Two days at home before I fly to Los Angeles and Jamie reports for training camp the following week.

I hold his gaze, already imagining getting out of this suit, returning to his house, and closing the rest of the world outside.

Then movement near the edge of the crowd catches my attention.

Jasper stands beside the arena doors with his phone in one hand and a leather portfolio tucked beneath his arm. He is dressed for travel, his expression focused despite the applause surrounding him, and every bit of warmth inside me cools at once.

He wasn’t supposed to be here today. Ignoring his presence I turn to leave. I’m sure he’ll find me if he needs me.

Before I can make it halfway across the lot, someone for wardrobe catches up to me.

“Don’t disappear on us just yet,” she says with a teasing wink.

I turn as she hurries toward me, sidestepping a pair of crew members pushing an equipment case toward the loading area.

“We just need your final outfit back so we can get it cleaned and packed away. Don’t want you to leave with it on. You’d be surprised at how many actors walk away with their costumes.”

“Of course,” I reply, holding my hand to my chest. “I would never,” I tease back.

Her expression softens into a warm smile, “Congratulations, Cyaire. The ladies and I will miss our morning chats. You were wonderful to work with.”

“Thank you. That means a lot. I will miss you all as well.”

She squeezes my arm before heading back toward the wardrobe trailer, already calling to another assistant standing beside a rolling rack crowded with costumes.

I continue walking, taking in the strange shift happening around me. The celebration hasn’t ended, but each department has already begun closing out its portion of today’s shoot. Grips dismantle the lighting setup used for the exterior scene while camera operators secure lenses and equipment they won’t need for the remaining pickups. Production assistants move between trailers carrying revised schedules, reminding me that filming will continue after I leave. A few actors still have scenes to finish, and Kirk may need inserts or additional footage before he can declare the entire production complete.

They aren’t dismantling the world we created in a single afternoon. They’re simply packing away the parts of it that no longer need me.

“Cyaire.” I stall, recognizing Jasper’s voice with a sense of dread.

He falls into step beside me as I make my way toward wardrobe, finishing something on his phone before sliding it into the inside pocket of his jacket. The leather portfolio tucked beneath his other arm and the focused expression on his face tell me he didn’t come all this way simply to congratulate me.

“You did it,” he says, glancing back toward the arena. “Three months, and you’re officially done.”

A smile breaks through some of my unease. “I did.”

“That was one hell of a turnaround. I know that wasn’t easy. But you have to put in the work for the accolades, am I right?”

“It didn’t feel fast while I was living it,” I reply, honestly, unbothered about acknowledgements or accolades at this point.

“It never does,” he says almost absently as we step aside to allow two grips to maneuver a camera cart between the trailers. Once they pass, Jasper motions for me to continue walking, keeping pace beside me as though we’re discussing another ordinary entry on my schedule.

“You ready for the next one?”

The question restores some of my excitement. I’ve known this day was coming, and I’ve accepted that Los Angeles and another project are waiting for me. I also know I have forty-eight hours before any of that begins, two full days without call sheets, alarms, fittings, or anyone demanding my attention. Two days at Jamie’s house where we can sleep late, eat when we feel like it, and pretend for a little while longer that our lives aren’t about to pull us in opposite directions.