Off Script

Off Camera (MBJ-POV)

It had been eight weeks since that night in Mina's kitchen. Eight weeks of keeping my head down, doing the work, and trying like hell to make sure Mina felt steady again.

Now I was sitting across from Tasha in the production office, her tablet glowing as she scrolled through schedules.

"I really am sorry, Michael," she said quietly, not looking up right away. "For not doing my part when Haven first started showing interest. I should've shut it down then. Could've saved you a lot of headaches."

I rubbed the back of my neck, leaning back in the chair. "Tash, you don't have to keep apologizing. Seriously. It's over. Thankfully, the noise died down, and it's not a speculation anymore."

She nodded, finally meeting my eyes, relief flickering there before she changed the subject. "I'm looking forward to meeting her and J.C. tomorrow. Are you bringing them to the set?"

I exhaled slowly, brushing a hand over my beard. "I didn't want to—because of Haven. But I promised J.C. before I even left for London in the first place. I can't break that. I just hope Haven gets the memo and acts professional. She don't wanna get on Mina's bad side. I got a taste of that two months ago when all that bullshit with the story came out."

Tasha shook her head, lips twitching like she wanted to smile but knew better. "How's Mina been doing since Mili? I remember when you left initially because of that."

My chest tightened. I leaned forward, elbows braced on my knees. "She's been handling work better. She has her moments, though. Still has dreams... and sometimes she can't sleep. She'll call me if I'm free, and I'll stay on the phone with her. It's gotten better, though. Slowly."

Tasha's expression softened. "Grief is so tricky. But she's lucky to have you, Michael."

I gave a small nod. "Thank you. But I'm just as lucky—probably more."

She tilted her head, scrolling again. "So what's the plan? Am I making sure there are no paps for locations, or are we just cool with roaming?"

"Yeah, it's gonna be complicated," I admitted. "Mina doesn't want to be in the spotlight at all, so we're gonna have to be mindful. Speaking of—can we make sure it's clear when they arrive on the PJ too? The last thing I need is them getting ambushed before they even step off because I am the one greeting them.

"Done," Tasha said, already tapping notes into her phone.

I leaned back, exhaling through my nose. Tomorrow was going to be a big day—for Mina, for J.C., for me. And I wasn't about to let anything ruin it.

****

The next day finally arrived.

The hangar was quiet, just the way I asked for. No press, no random staff lingering. Tasha had handled it, and for once, everything went smooth.

I stood just off the runway, my cap pulled low, heart beating faster than I'd admit. Eight weeks since I'd seen them in person. FaceTime was cool, but it wasn't the same. I needed to hold them

The jet door finally opened, and there they were—Mina holding J.C.'s hand as they stepped down the stairs. She had on a simple sweatsuit, braids pulled back, looking tired but still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

And J.C.—man, he was grinning so wide I thought his little cheeks might crack.

As soon as his sneakers hit the ground, he let go of Mina's hand and bolted straight for me.

"Mr. Michael!"

I crouched low, arms open, catching him as he jumped into me. The weight of him, the way he held on—it damn near knocked the air out of my chest.