Emma jumped, caught off guard. She’d scrambled to finish just one more item for Henrietta, barely having time to process that he was actually coming over. Her hair was in a lopsided bun, mascara probably smudged from rubbing her eyes.
Against every instinct, she pushed herself off the bed and went to open the door.
Darren was leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. The octopus tee was gone, replaced by the black linen button-down he’d worn earlier.
“House call,” he said simply.
Emma stepped back to let him in, trying not to look as rattled as she felt. He walked past her into the room, taking it in without comment—the glowing laptop on the bed, the untouched coffee, a heap of clothes draped over a chair.
She slowly closed the door behind them. Having him there felt strangely intimate, even if it was just a hotel room. Darren went up to the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the view.
Emma cleared her throat.
“I told you, you didn’t have to—”
“Of course I did.” There was something relentless in his tone. “Do you think Lucen would’ve left it alone if he’d seen Catlyn unraveling?”
“You’re not Lucen.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, one brow raised. “I’m not?”
She shot him a dark look. “Don’t.”
He shrugged, his expression still teasing. “Had to take a shot while you’re weak and off your game.”
It was meant as a joke, but something inside her cracked open.
“It’s notfunny, Darren.”
The words rang heavy through the room. His grin faltered, replaced by quiet attentiveness.
“I don’t understand,” she went on. It all burst out of her, sharp and uncontrolled. “You go on stage saying that you love the book, and you bait the fans until they’re screaming our names. But then you talk about how you’re done with that kind of role, and dodge the subjectevery time I bring up Lucen, and I just...What the hell do youwant, Darren? I don’t get it.”
Her voice broke on the last words.
For a second, his eyes tightened—a shadow crossing his face. Maybe she’d angered him. Right now, she didn’t even care. Couldn’t. Not on top of everything else pressing down on her.
“You know what, just leave. Please.”
She turned away from him, hugging her arms around herself. Every part of her life was fraying. The company, the sequel, and now whatever fragile thing was forming between them. She was stretched thin between the different versions of herself, so tired of smiling through it all. So tired of pretending not to feel the weight of expectations.
Darren moved behind her. She closed her eyes, bracing for the rush of air as he passed her, for the sound of the door slamming closed.
It didn’t come.
His hands settled on her shoulders. A shaky sob escaped her, relief folding her in on herself.
He eased her around, pulling her in. One hand cradled the back of her head, thumb stroking through her hair. His body was solid under her cheek, his voice rough against her temple.
“Enough, Emma,” he murmured. “You’re breaking yourself into pieces, and I won’t stand by and watch it.”
His grip was unyielding, yet it thrummed with heat, protective and fierce all at once. As if daring her to shatter, promising he would hold her together if she did.
She couldn’t defend herself against it. Didn’t have the strength. She leaned into him, feeling the even rise and fall of his chest. Silent tears soaked his shirt, but she was too weary to fight them.
He just held her like that, in the quiet center of the room, until her breathing calmed and the trembling subsided.
When her muscles finally relaxed, he pulled back slowly, his hands still warm around her arms. He searched her face, all playfulness gone. “You’re right,” he said. “About Lucen. About me sending mixed signals. It’s a wonderful character, and I’ve just been too...”
