“Serious enough that if this story goes live unchecked, it could undo everything you’ve built. Your secret project . . . you may not have funding for it.”
Her eyes lowered to the spot on the rug where Luke had stood in her office not an hour ago. The spot where she’d told him he was wise. That God had directed their paths together.
A slow, hollow realization settled over her.
Nothing between her and Luke had been real.
Outside, snow continued to fall—soft and forgiving—against a house that had suddenly become a witness to something painfully misread.
And inside, Amayah understood a truth far harder than any headline:
The man who had stepped through her door hadn’t come as a guest.
He’d come as a story.
Luke stood in the center of Amayah’s living room, every nerve coiled, ready at last to tell Amayah the truth. He couldn’t let any interruptions stop him this time.
But when Amayah stepped back into the room, her expression wasn’t confused.
It was shattered.
“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Her voice was quiet, devastated in a way that cut deeper than shouting ever could.
Nausea roiled inside him.
She knew.
Someone else had told her the truth before he had a chance to.
Panic fluttered in his chest. “Amayah, I need to explain.”
Hurt filled her gaze. “What’s there to explain? None of this has been real. I’ve become my own cautionary tale—again.”
“No, it’s not like that. My editor thought you were faking it. At first, I wondered if you might be also. But then as I got to know you, I realized that wasn’t true.”
“You came here under false pretenses and lied to me.” She pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“Amayah—”
“Out!”
Chest deflated, he took a step that way. He wanted to respect her wishes, but he had so much more to say. “Amayah, I realizedhow wrong I was. I quit the newspaper. I came here to tell you, but then you needed my help, and?—”
“You expect me to just believe that?” Her eyes searched his like they were trying to find something solid in a room full of broken glass. “My manager says you’re out to destroy me.”
“That’s not true. I told my editor no. I chose you. I lost my job because of it. I came here to tell you, but then everything happened with the kids and?—”
“Youchoseme after you betrayed me?” The tremor in her voice was worse than anger.
He dragged a hand over his mouth. “I was going to tell you. I promise.”
“When? After I trusted you completely?”
Their words collided, tangled in hurt and truth and too many unsaid things.
Until her gaze snapped past him.
He turned to see what she was gaping at.
