“Absolutely. We always offer equal time for response.” I pause, considering. “But make sure it’s with someone else on the team, not me. I need distance from the follow-up coverage.”
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question the decision. “Brady’s already prepping in case you said that.”
My phone vibrates with a text from Dylan reminding me of our final documentary shoot today at Lucas’s apartment. In just a few hours, Lucas and I will be face to face again, talking about our relationship on camera. Then, after the crew leaves, we’ll have dinner together and finally talk about what’s real between us.
Lucas’s apartment looks exactly as I remember it: sleek, comfortable, subtly masculine but with touches of me scattered throughout. The scent of coffee lingers in the air as I step inside, greeted by the documentary crew already setting up in the kitchen.
“Perfect timing,” Dylan says, clipboard in hand. “Lucas is just getting ready. We thought we’d start with some casual domestic footage before the sit-down interview.”
I nod, setting my bag down on the counter. It feelsstrange being back here after weeks away, yet also familiar, like my body remembers this space even if my mind is still catching up.
Lucas appears from the bedroom, and my heart does an involuntary flip. He’s wearing jeans and a simple button-down, and his hair is slightly damp from the shower. When our eyes meet, his expression softens into something that makes my pulse quicken.
“Hey,” he says simply.
“Hey, yourself,” I reply, suddenly aware of the cameras capturing our reunion.
Dylan claps his hands together. “Let’s get started. Just act natural. Maybe make a snack. Interact like you would on any normal afternoon.”
Normal. As if anything about this situation is normal.
But somehow, as we move around the kitchen together, it does feel natural. I reach for a bowl of strawberries while Lucas grabs the can of whipped cream. He hands me the cinnamon without my asking. I nudge the bowl closer to him so he doesn’t have to reach. Our bodies remember this dance even if our minds haven’t caught up yet.
Lucas glances at me and smiles, something warm and genuine that makes me momentarily forget that the cameras are even there.
After we finish the kitchen scene, we move to the living room for the interview portion. I settle into one side of the couch and pull a pillow into my lap, more for comfort than anything else. Lucas sits at the opposite end with his body angled toward me, relaxed but attentive.
Dylan lowers his clipboard. “Ok, ready for the finalinterview? First, I want to address the elephant in the room. Jess, you broke a major story this morning about Lucas’s father. Can you talk about how that’s affected your relationship?”
I shift the pillow in my lap, fidgeting with the corner seam.
“Publishing that story was one of the hardest professional decisions I’ve ever made,” I say carefully. “Not because I had any doubts about its accuracy or importance, but because I knew it would impact someone I care about deeply.”
I glance at Lucas and find unexpected steadiness in his gaze.
“In journalism, we’re taught to separate ourselves from our subjects and to maintain objectivity at all costs. But real life isn’t that clean. Sometimes, the truth affects people you love, and you have to find a way to honor both your professional integrity and your personal relationships.”
Lucas nods slightly, encouraging me to continue.
“What made it possible was knowing that Lucas respects what I do. He understands that truth matters, even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it hurts.” I pause, and my voice softens. “That kind of respect and understanding, well, it means everything.”
Dylan turns to Lucas. “And from your perspective?”
Lucas takes a breath. “I won’t pretend that it was easy to see my family’s name in those headlines this morning. But the story Jess published was fair, factual, and necessary. The women who came forward deserved to be heard, and the public deserved to know.”
He shifts slightly, and his gaze intensifies. “I’ve worked in PR long enough to know how rare truly principledjournalism is. Jess doesn’t cut corners. She doesn’t sensationalize. She seeks truth, not headlines, and I’ve come to admire that about her more than I can say.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten. This isn’t performance. This is real.
“Let’s pivot a bit,” Dylan says. “What’s one thing you’ve learned about yourself through this relationship? Jess?”
I let out a soft breath as I gather my thoughts. “I’ve always been proud of being independent. I built a career on asking the hard questions, trusting my instincts, and never needing anyone to validate what I already knew. I thought that was strength, and in a lot of ways, it was.”
I look over at Lucas, and something warm unfurls in my chest.
“But somewhere along the way, I started confusing independence with isolation. I forgot that being strong doesn’t mean going it alone. Lucas reminded me what it feels like to have someone in your corner. Not because you need them to fix anything, but because they want to stand beside you. No conditions. No agenda.”
I pause, just for a second, before adding, “He sees the parts of me I don’t always show the world. And instead of flinching, he leans in.”
