“T don’t think you’re stupid at all.” “Harry is a homosexual,” he said. I felt my body pull back, as far away from him as possible. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. Max laughed. “That line didn’t work when we were getting burgers, and it won’t work now.” “Max...” “Do you enjoy spending time with me?” “Of course I do.” “And do you not agree that we understand each other, creatively speaking?” “Of course.” “Have I not directed you in three of the most important films of your career?” “You have.” “And do you think that is an accident?” I thought about it. “No,” I said. “It’s not.” “No, it isn’t,” he said. “It’s because I see you. It is because I ache for you. It is because, from the very moment I set my eyes on you, my body was full of desire for you. It is because I have been falling in love with you for decades. The camera sees you as I see you. And when that happens, you soar.” “You're a talented director.” “Yes, of course, I am,” he said. “But only because you inspire me. You, my Evelyn Hugo, are the talent that powers every movie you are in. You are my muse. And I am your conductor. I am the person who brings out your greatest work.” I breathed in deeply, considering what he was saying. “You're right,” I said. “You are absolutely right.” “I can’t think of anything more erotic than that,” he said. “Than being each other’s inspiration.” He leaned in close to me. I could feel the heat of him on my skin. “And I can think of nothing more meaningful than the way we understand each other. You should leave Harry. He will be fine.