Then Carrie inhaled.
Opened her eyes.
And they were full. Shimmering. Tears trembling on her lashes as she looked at Penn, her best friend, her firestorm, her prodigy.
She cried.
A sound so soft and raw it cracked through the glass walls and down both our spines.
Then she gasped. Then laughed. Then cried harder.
And then—in true Carrie fashion—she clapped her hands together once, sharply, like she was calling lightning to heel.
“Bravo,” she whispered. Then louder, trembling, “Bra-fucking-vo, Penn.”
Penn froze. Then blinked as if she didn’t understand the language.
Carrie stood so suddenly her chair rolled back.
“You are absolutely otherworldly,” she said, voice breaking around the edges. “This piece... my god. It’s honest. It’s brutal. It’s necessary. It’s the kind of story that doesn’t just speak—it detonates.”
Penn’s lip wobbled.
Carrie reached her in three strides and grabbed her cheeks with both hands.
“This,” she whispered, tapping the stack of pages with the back of her hand, “Is the most astonishing thing you’ve ever written.”
Penn completely broke open.
I was beside her in a heartbeat, my hand on her back, her breath shaking through her entire body as she cried into Carrie’s shoulder.
Carrie looked at me over Penn’s hair. Her eyes were wet. Grateful. Relieved.
“Where the fuck did you find him?” she whispered. “I didn’t,” Penn cried. “He found me.”
Carrie sniffed. “Well, thank god, because you were picking men like expired milk.”
I barked out a laugh, even as Penn elbowed her.
Carrie wiped her eyes. “Right. Enough. Both of you. Grab your shit. We’re going somewhere.”
Penn blinked. “Where?”
I offered my hand. “Across the street.”
THE REVEAL
They followed me out of the building and across the road.Penn held my hand like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go. Her cup trembled slightly. Her breath matched mine, slower now, steady.
I unlocked the glass doors of the building she’d never stepped inside before.
Carrie gasped immediately. Penn stopped breathing altogether.
Antique walnut desks filled the open lobby. Shelves lined with empty frames ready for future book covers. A chandelier made of blown glass petals hung from the ceiling like a frozen bloom.
The scent of old wood, citrus polish, warm dust, fresh beginnings.
Penn took one fragile step inside.
