Emma tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see when you watch the interview.” Leah’s eyes were cool, the kind of look Emma had seen her aim at lazy assistants or careless waiters. Never at her.
She reached for her laptop, still on the bed where she’d left it when Darren coaxed her away. The half-finished email to Henrietta still sat open. She closed the draft—nothing felt more unimportant—and searched for the interview online. Then she pressed play, bracing.
The video loaded—and there she was. Sitting stiff in the chair, face arranged into something cold and sharp.
It was worse than she’d feared.
Just joking around.
Blown out of proportion.
And the one that made her guts twist: It was nothing.
The words echoed back, sharp as blades. She didn’t like the woman in that chair. The closed-off eyes. The clipped voice.
The lies.
That wasn’t her.
Or maybe it was, and that was even worse.
A rush filled her ears, as if she were plummeting even as she sat frozen. With numb fingers, she grabbed her phone, turning it back on.
Notifications welled over the screen like an avalanche. She ignored them, going straight to the thread with Darren. The tiny, fragile link still open between them. Their last shared message was his joke about the tentacle porn. That felt like a lifetime ago.
Hey, sorry about before. I didn’t mean it like that.
She hit send before she could lose her nerve.
Then typed again:Can we talk?Her thumb hovered. She deleted it, teeth grazing her lower lip.
By the way, I did an interview before, it came out a little off. Not sure if you’ve seen it, but just in case...
Rambling. She held down the delete button until the words evaporated. Maybe he hadn’t even seen the interview—why point it out in that case?
Her breath caught when the word under the text flipped fromDeliveredtoRead. She waited, eyes glazed as she stared at the screen.
And nothing.
Somewhere far off, Leah was speaking. Emma jerked her head up. “Sorry, what?”
Leah had changed into a red power suit, hair newly brushed, and lipstick refreshed. She looked perfect—untouchable. “I said I’m headed to that mixer across town. Technically, you’re invited, but I’m guessing—”
“I’ll just stay in tonight,” Emma filled in, forcing a smile. “Intense day.”
“Right,” Leah muttered. “Don’t wait up.”
“Have fun,” Emma called after her, trying to sound normal.
The words bounced against the door as it clicked shut, falling flat in the quiet that followed.
Her phone still glowed in her hand. The unanswered message sat there, burning.
Sorry about before. I didn’t mean it like that.
Not only had she insinuated that every moment between them was a lie—she’d also dismissed him publicly. Her body seemed to fold in on itself, crushed by an invisible force.
