“This is PR fire,” Marissa continues. “In the best way. You two basically saved each other’s reputations.”
Saved.
Cam exhales.
Not sharply. Not loudly.
Relief.
The sound is small, but it lands like a punch to my ribs.
Because relief means something was fixed.
Because relief means something was gained.
My pulse skids.
My palms go slick. I press them into my thighs and force myself to keep breathing.
George chuckles. “Honestly, it’s textbook. Crisis softened by romance.”
I stare at the screen, at the little arrow climbing higher and higher, and feel something fold inward in my chest. Slow. Painful. Like paper creased the wrong way.
Marissa leans closer to her camera. “Cam, being linked to Lila gives you a sense of calm. Safety. People trust her. They trust you more by association.”
Trust.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
I trusted the kiss. The quiet. The way his hand felt sure on my jaw.
Across the couch, Cam’s knee bounces once. Stops.
He’s uncomfortable. I can see that.
But discomfort isn’t denial.
And the part of me that’s been burned before is already drawing conclusions faster than I can stop it.
This helped him.
He needed this.
He needed me.
The room feels smaller. The air thinner.
Marissa smiles like she’s just solved a puzzle. “This is exactly the kind of alignment we hoped for.”
Alignment.
I don’t feel aligned.
I feel used.
Evelyn shifts slightly on the screen, folding her hands like she’s about to ask something reasonable.
“Given the momentum,” she says, “we’d like you to continue appearing together publicly.”
