Even with everything between them, Emma had expected counsel, the usual whispered notes Leah gave ahead of interviews like a boxing coach pointing out the opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. But she stayed posted a few feet away, showing no sign she intended to speak to Emma at all.
Fair enough.
The setup before the camera had aBonds of Light-branded backdrop and two proper armchairs, far better than the flap chairs she’d seen elsewhere. Ring lights were rigged, and there was even a fruit bowl on a small table.
Another stab of guilt cut through her. This had been meant for the whole press junket. Leah had put effort into this—for her. And then had to cancel the whole thing, because Emma had set it all on fire.
She buried the thought, shut it away with all the other jagged edges inside her.
No cracks allowed.
Emma sat on the edge of the armchair, hands clasped tight around her knee.
The host was already in her seat. “Emma Whitehart!” she greeted with a brilliant flash of white teeth. “You’ve had a whirlwind few days here at Comic-Con. Panels, readings, signings—how are you holding up?”
“It’s been...amazing.” She managed a thin smile. “And a lot. Comic-Con really is like being in another world.”
“Your fans have been ecstatic,” the host went on. “That antagonist panel yesterday trended for hours. You and Darren Cole really lit up the stage.”
Emma pressed harder into her knee until she felt the bite of her nails. “Thanks. People have strong feelings about antiheroes.”
“Maybe, but most of all, the onstage chemistry between you and Darren was insane.” She leaned in, eyes glowing. “And I have to ask...today, a photo of the two of you backstage started making the rounds. Where you kind of looked like more than just co-panelists?”
She forced a laugh. It rang false even in her own ears. “Ah. That.” She lifted her shoulders, casual, dismissive. “People read too much into it. Darren and I went out in cosplay, and we were just joking around afterward. That’s all it was.”
“Joking around?” the host pressed, brows near her hairline. “Because it looked pretty—well, convincing.”
Despite the cozy chair, Emma sat rigid, every muscle locked. Her voice cooled by degrees. “You know how the internet works. A blurry photo, out of context, becomes a headline. It’s not what it looks like—it was nothing. Just a silly moment that people are blowing out of proportion.”
The host made a small noise, the eager friendliness replaced by a curl of her mouth. “And the stubborn rumors about Darren Cole as a front-runner to play Lucen—”
“Are just that,” Emma cut in, sharper than intended. “Rumors. The casting is an ongoing process, but my focus is on the book. That’s why I’m here.”
The host faltered for a beat before recovering. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Leah shift her weight, subtle but disapproving.
Shame seeped into her bones. She hated herself for sounding cold. Hated that Darren’s shadow kept looming over her.
The rest of the questions blurred. Emma answered on autopilot, sentences clicking into place with mechanical precision. Competent. Hollow. Detached. She felt like she was describing someone else’s story, not her own.
When the ring lights finally snapped off, she stood too fast, her legs unsteady.
“That was fine,” Leah said when the host ducked out. Her tone was clipped, like a general counting casualties.
“Fine is enough,” Emma said. And then neither of them seemed to have anything more to say.
Emma walked out before the distance between them could start hurting too much. Each step rang with the lies she’d told.
It was nothing.
The metallic taste of it clung to her tongue. She held on to it, anyway. Because if she let the truth in—if she admitted what she might already have lost—she wasn’t sure she’d stay standing.
Chapter 38
Nothing hurts quite like pretending it doesn’t.
Emma didn’t go straight back to the hotel after the interview.
Her feet carried her toward the marina. Past the neon flood of people spilling out of the convention center, past the food trucks exhaling sugar and grease.
