Along with old emails he’d sent me, about the show. About our contracts.
Still, as I got closer and closer to facing him again… Honestly? I would’ve thought I’d feel...more. More longing. More regret.
Instead, all I felt was…distance.
And as I reached the conference room door, wrapped my fingers around the handle, and pushed it open, my pulse stayed steady.
Inside, about a dozen people sat spaced around a long, polished table.
The station manager looked up first, expression unreadable.
But it was the woman next to her who rose to shake my hand. “Laura McCroft. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Faraday.” Her grip was firm, her tone clipped. “Legal council for KNPT legal counsel.
Introductions followed—polite, a little stiff—as Mallory exchanged names with the others, most of whom I only vaguely recognized.
“Miss Faraday,” said a tall woman I’d seen around the station but never officially met. Her tone was brisk, all business. “Marsha Taylor, Vice President of Programming.”
She gestured toward the far end of the table. “Vance Miller, legal counsel for Mr. Dunlap. And of course, you know Mr. Dunlap.”
Only then did I look at him.
Leo glanced up—just a flicker—then dropped his gaze to the stack of papers in front of him, as if they suddenly demanded his full attention.
Same Leo. Hair meticulously styled, though thinning now at the temples. The usual designer stubble, calculated to imply ruggedness without the commitment. Crisp shirt. Pressed slacks. Cologne I could smell from across the room.
He seemed…smaller somehow.
Just a few months ago, I’d been planning to spend the rest of my life with this man.
But the truth? We never talked about weddings or kids or a future. Leo hadn’t wanted a partner—he’d wanted a brand. Syndication, audience growth, sponsorships.
And I’d let him.
The jealousy and grief I’d carried were gone, burned away by something steadier—hotter.
A quiet, righteous anger.
He hadn’t just gaslit me about our relationship. He’d tried to rewrite the story for everyone else, too.
But I wasn’t sad anymore. I didn’t have a single what-if.
And in that moment, with everything so sharply clear, I almost laughed.
I hadn’t been in love with Leo for a long time.
I’d loved the idea of him. Of us. A powerhouse couple that would prove to the world that I could be somebody.
Oh my God! Wait…no.
It clicked in my head then, a missing piece that I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing.
I’d loved the idea that…with him, I thought I could be the type of person my mom would be proud of. I’d believed that being with Leo could make me into the right type of person.
Someone professional. Someone significant. Poised.
But that had not been love.
After being with Noah—even for such a short, uncertain but truly beautiful time—I understood the difference.
