Evelyn thanks us. Marissa mentions scheduling. George waves cheerfully.
The call ends.
The screen goes dark.
Cam turns toward me, concern already forming. “Lila—”
I stand too fast.
“I should have known,” I whisper. Not to him. To myself.
His brows pull together. “What?”
I shake my head and step back, every instinct screaming retreat.
I don’t trust my voice. I don’t trust my heart.
I walk away before he can say another word.
Before he can confirm what I already believe.
I close the bedroom door softly behind me.
And on the other side of it, I let myself break.
Chapter twenty-six
Cam
I’m standing too close to the stage.
I know it the second Manny shoots me a look from the soundboard. The kind that says you don’t have to be right there.
He’s right.
I could be in the hallway. The green room. Literally anywhere that isn’t close enough to hear her inhale before a note.
But here I am.
Lila stands center stage, mic in hand, ponytail loose, shoulders relaxed in that way she only gets when she’s working. Not performing. Working. The band runs the intro again and she closes her eyes, counting under her breath.
Three. Four.
Her voice fills the space, warm and precise, hitting places in my chest I didn’t know were hollow until she found them.
I tell myself I’m here because Manny insisted.
There was a small security concern this morning. Nothing major. Enough to make hovering sound responsible instead of what it actually is.
I shift my weight and fold my arms, trying to look casual. Like I’m not tracking every movement. Cataloging exits. Clocking the way she rolls her shoulders between takes, or tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear when she’s thinking.
The song ends. The last note hangs.
Silence.
Then a tech calls, “Resetting the mic.”
Lila exhales and smiles, easy and unguarded, laughing softly as she steps back from the stand.
