I bite my lip. “I really hope not.”
Another sigh. “So, what’s the plan? You just going to drop a casual ‘Oh hey, by the way, I’m bonded to four rockstars’ tweet and let the internet implode?”
I snort. “Not quite. I’ll do an exclusive. One interview. No tabloids, no speculation—just me telling the truth. On my terms.”
Shelley mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch. “You’re lucky I love you, because professionally, this is a nightmare.”
A warmth settles in my chest, despite everything. “So you’ll help me?”
A long pause. Then, “Like I could ever say no to you.”
Relief floods through me. “Thank you, Shelley.”
She huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t say I never did anything for you.”
I smile. “Never.”
“Alright, I need to go fix the mess you just made of my press strategy,” she grumbles. “But before I do… are you happy, Ash?”
I glance across the room, where Todd is lounging on my couch, lazily strumming a guitar. Xayden is flipping through channels, West is reading something on his phone, and Jake—ever perceptive—meets my gaze, giving me a knowing smile.
A slow warmth spreads through me, my scent sweetening instinctively.
“Yeah,” I say, the truth settling into my bones. “I really am.”
Shelley sighs. “Then I guess I can live with it.”
I laugh. “That’s the spirit.”
She groans. “I’ll call you later.”
The line goes dead, and I set my phone down, exhaling slowly. That was easier than I expected.
Then Xayden grins at me from across the room. “So, what did the wicked producer say?”
I roll my eyes. “She’s helping.”
Todd raises a brow. “That’s suspiciously easy.”
“She loves me,” I say with a smirk, stretching my arms overhead. “And she knew this was inevitable.”
Jake leans back, smirking. “Damn right it was.”
West just watches me, something unreadable in his gaze. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
I don’t hesitate. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Well, you won’t be doing it alone, sweetheart,” Xayden says.
The lights are blinding,the audience a sea of shifting shadows beyond the stage. I smooth my palms over my dress, trying to ignore the nervous energy buzzing beneath my skin. This is it. The moment I take control of the narrative. No more rumors, no more speculation. Just the truth.
Kelly Grayson, the host, smiles at me from across the glossy table. “So, Ashlyn, you’ve had quite the year.”
I let out a soft laugh. “That’s an understatement.”
She leans in, resting her chin on her hand. “You know, when you were last on my show, you had quite the surprise guest.”
I don’t have to fake the eye roll. “Oh, you mean the ex who ambushed me on live television?”
