A wave of gratitude hit Emma for this fiercely loyal woman who’d gone above and beyond from day one. Who’d believed in her long before Emma believed in herself. Who, somehow, in just six months, had become one of her closest friends.
“I’m sorry, Leah,” she said. “For the fight. For accusing you of not caring. And for not listening when you were just trying to help.”
“Okay. Who are you and have you killed Emma Whitehart? Because I have a band of lawyers on retainer who will make you—”
“I’m serious.” Emma stood, walking up to the bed. “Leah, you’ve been there for me at every turn, and I love you for it. But it’s time I start making my own decisions. And I know where I need to start.”
Leah squinted at her. “It’s hard to tell in this light, but you look...different.”
“I feel different,” Emma said. She did. Taller somehow, her shoulders settling back.
“Should I be worried?”
Emma shook her head. “No. You have worried enough on my behalf. Now it’s my turn in the ring. I’m going to fix it. All of it. But before I go, will you forgive me?”
Leah sighed, dramatic as ever, then pulled the mask back into place. She waved Emma off with a sleepy flick of her hand. “Fine. Just don’t wake me up again unless someone’s dead and you need help with the body.”
Emma grabbed her bag and headed for the door, her heartbeat steady as a metronome.
“Hey,” Leah called from the bed. “Good luck, Em. I’m rooting for you. But if you ever talk to me like that again, I’m releasing that video of you day drunk on mimosas, singing ‘Let It Go’ to your cats.”
Emma chuckled. “Sounds fair.”
Leah turned on her side, pulling the covers over her head. “Good. Now get the hell out of here and let the normal people sleep.”
Emma took a deep breath. It was time to go to Comic-Con.
And this time, she wasn’t going to hide.
Chapter 43
Goddamn it, Keanu!
Emma stood just inside the backstage entrance, heart pounding high in her throat. She had no idea what she’d say to Darren—only that she needed to try. That she was done being afraid.
Backstage was a mess today, with Con fatigue settling over everything. Crew and handlers swarmed the corridors, trailing clients, hauling equipment, muttering into headsets. Emma slipped through them with single-minded focus. No one even looked at her.
She’d found out online that Darren was supposed to be at aDarkreachsigning in half an hour. The problem was—she had no idea where he’d be before that.
So she circled the main hallways, tensing every time her gaze caught on a tall, dark-haired man.
None of them were him.
Her mind kept looping the same question:What if he didn’t want to see her? What if she’d already ruined it beyond repair?
But even that fear wasn’t enough to stop her. By now, she’d made so many pointless laps she was probably one step from being flagged as suspicious, but she didn’t care. She kept moving.
And then—finally.
Her breath hitched. There he was. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair gleaming under the lights. He had his back to her, surrounded by anunusually large entourage. It was vaguely intimidating, but never mind. She’d come too far to let a group of handlers scare her off.
Emma straightened, smoothed down her hair, and forced her feet into a determined stride.
She’d almost crossed the space between them when he turned toward her. Emma froze mid-stride, mortified.
It wasn’t Darren.
It was Keanu Reeves.
