"I've really enjoyed getting to know you better, Sophia."
She pauses at the door, not quite looking back. "Take care of yourself, Grant. Hazel, too."
"You, too, Sophia."
After she leaves, Lucas lingers, watching me with knowing eyes. "Want me to start drafting statements?"
"Only if you have to." My voice sounds foreign to my ears. "Protect her career. Make sure everyone knows she's brilliant."
"And you?"
"I'm fine." The lie comes easily. "It was never meant to be permanent."
The words echo in the room, and I let them fuel the careful wall I'm building in my mind. This is exactly why I've never wanted anything serious. Relationships mean complications, vulnerability, risk. I'm angry with myself because I knew better.
I've built my life around certainties. The studio. My reputation. Hazel. Especially Hazel. She needs stability, a father who isn't distracted by romantic entanglements that could implode at any moment. The past three months have been a departure from everything I believe in, everything I've promised myself—temporary insanity born of attraction and convenience.
This is better. Cleaner. A return to the way things should be.
I repeat it like a mantra, ignoring the voice in my headthat sounds suspiciously like Geneva asking if I'm protecting Hazel or hiding behind her.
Later that night, I find Hazel in the living room, curled up on the couch and watchingBeauty and the Beast.
"Dad?" Hazel's voice is careful. "Is Sophia coming over tonight?"
I rehearsed this moment, but the words still stick. "Actually, sweetheart, Sophia took a job in Vancouver. She'll be away for a while. She wanted me to tell you goodbye and she's sorry she wasn't able to come see you before she left."
"Oh." Hazel is quiet for a long moment. "When is she coming back?"
"I'm not sure. I think she'll be up there all summer."
"Did you tell her you love her before she left?"
The question hits like a physical blow. "It's complicated, nugget."
"That's what grown-ups always say when they're scared." She turns off the TV and looks at me with eyes that are much too wise for a six-year-old. "Mom says, sometimes, people only get one big love. What if Sophia was yours?"
I stand there, speechless, as she gathers her things and heads upstairs. Through the window, I can see the spot where Sophia's car used to park, now empty in the growing darkness.
What if Hazel's right?
What if I just let my one chance at love walk away because I was too afraid to fight for it?
The house feels impossibly quiet, filled with the echoes of everything I didn't say.
forty-three
. . .
Sophia
Two months later.
"And that's a wrap on ADR."The sound engineer's voice crackles through the booth speaker. "You're officially done withSurvivor, Ms. Ford."
Removing my headphones, I let satisfaction warm my chest. I just finished re-recording audio segments that were either poor quality or replacing places where the script needed a little tweaking. It's always hard to get back into character after you wrap filming, but it felt good to be Maya again—even if it brought a whole host of other memories with it.
My time in Vancouver wasn't just an escape—it reminded me who I was beyond tabloid headlines and complicated relationships—beyond Grant.
