She kisses me softly, and just like that, Preston is forgotten because he simply doesn't matter anymore.
Later that afternoon, I'm with Derek when my phone rings. Leo's name flashes on the screen.
I stare at it, surprised. Leo hasn't called since the gallery show — since I stood on that platform and publicly announced I was leaving modeling behind. Not long before that, he'd called with what he said was the opportunity of a lifetime: fifty thousand dollars for a weekend shoot in Miami with a major brand. But it conflicted with plans I had with Snow. I'd turned it down without hesitation.
Snow had been horrified when I told her. She'd tried to convince me to take it, saying she could wait. But I'd brushed it off — it simply wasn't important to me anymore. Spending time with her was worth more than any paycheck.
Leo had been furious. Told me I was throwing away my career. Said the brand would never call twice. His exact words were "Don't call me when you're broke and begging for work. We are done."
I haven't heard from him since. Until now.
I almost don't answer. But curiosity gets the better of me.
"Leo."
"Wyatt." His voice is different — not the aggressive sales pitch I'm used to, but something more measured. "I need you to listen for five minutes."
"I'm listening."
"That brand. The one you turned down."
My stomach tightens. "What about it?"
"They're back with more money on the table."
I close my eyes, already knowing my answer. "Leo—"
"Just listen. Two-year exclusive contract. Half a million dollars. Security for life."
The number hangs in the air between us. A few months ago, it might have tempted me. But now the choice is crystal clear. It means absolutely nothing.
"No," I say when he's finished.
"Wyatt, this is—"
"I know what it is, Leo. And the answer is still no."
"At least think about it. Sleep on it. This offer won't last forever."
"I don't need to sleep on it. I'm not doing it."
There's a long pause. Then: "Is it that woman?"
"Her name is Snow. And no, it's not about her. This is me choosing what is best for me."
"You're making a mistake." Leo's voice hardens. "A huge mistake. And when you come crawling back in six months, don't expect me to answer the phone. We're done, Wyatt."
Something clicks in my head. "You said that last time."
"What?"
"You said we're done last time you called about this. You also said the brand would never call twice. But here we are." I keep my voice calm. "So which is it, Leo? Are we done, or are you going to call me again in a few months with another offer?"
Silence. Then: "I never said that. Don't be so dramatic."
The gaslighting is so blatant it's almost funny. "Yeah, you did."
"You're misremembering—"
