The time difference was brutal. Your schedules rarely aligned, and when they did, one of you was always exhausted. But somehow, you and Drew made it work.

Curled up in bed in your Paris apartment, you held your phone to your ear, your voice groggy from sleep. “You just finished filming?”

Drew’s voice came through the speaker, warm and familiar. “Yeah, just got back to my place. Thought I’d call before you fell asleep.”

You smiled softly, staring at the ceiling. “You’re lucky. I was about to.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’ve got good timing.”

A beat of silence passed, comfortable but longing.

“I miss you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Drew exhaled. “I miss you more.”

You closed your eyes, imagining him beside you instead of thousands of miles away. “Two more weeks,” you murmured. “Then I’m back in the States.”

“I’m counting down the days.” His voice dropped, softer now. “Wish I could hold you.”

Your heart ached at the thought. “Me too.”

“FaceTime?” he suggested.

You smiled. “Yeah, let me turn on the light.”

“No,” he interrupted. “I wanna see you just like this—sleepy and soft.”

Your stomach fluttered as you hit the video call button. And when his face appeared on the screen, tired but smiling, the distance didn’t feel quite so unbearable.