“Still in London,” I lie easily, voice sure and steady, giving nothing away. “This deal’s a fucking mess. Jonathan needs me for a few more days.”
There’s a pause—long enough to feel his irritation—but it’s obvious his focus isn’t on me when all he does is grunt.
“Don’t stretch it out,” he says, clipped. “Get back as soon as you can.”
The line goes dead.
The lack of questions only sharpens my suspicions. Maybe this shipment reallyismore than wine. Maybe that’s why he’s distracted. Why he doesn’t gloat over me seemingly sharing Points business like this. Maybe he can feel the clock running down.
Too many fucking questions. Not enough answers. It’s becoming a problem.
The moment the call ends, I slump against the nearest wall and swipe to my contacts to dial the only number that matters.
“Matt?”
“Hey, sweetheart,” I sigh, leaning back against the wall, letting the sound of her breathing anchor me. “I’ve just landed at Heathrow. I needed to hear your voice.”
Her laugh drifts through the line—light, warm. “You sound dramatic,” she teases, but there’s something softer beneath it. “Are you okay?”
For a second, I close my eyes and pretend she’s close enough to touch.
“I am now,” I admit, voice low. I push off the wall, following the signs to the taxi rank. “I hate not knowing what I’m walking into.”
“Owen loves to play vague.” Her sigh comes through the line, and I can picture it—her brow furrowed, lips pouting just slightly, the way she’d roll her eyes.
I start moving, weaving through the small crowd, slipping into the first free taxi I see.
“You know as well as I do he doesn’t trust phone lines,” I say, the wry edge in my voice more habit than feeling. I give the driver Owen’s address before focusing back on Lily. “Enough about my mess. How’s your day been?”
“Well,” she begins, a spark of excitement slipping into her voice, “I never got the chance to tell you, but at the showcase, I got a card from an investor. They seemed to really like my piece.”
“Youthinkthey liked it?” I tease, though the pride in my voice gives me away.
“Iknowthey did,” she counters, laughter threading through her words. “I mean, I still have to follow up, but… it feels like a real opportunity.”
“Then don’t let it pass you by.” My tone turns firm as we splash through a puddle-slicked intersection, my hand tappingagainst the leather seat. “This is what you’ve been working toward, baby. Take the shot.”
Her laugh comes again—lighter now, almost breathless. “You really think I can do it?”
“I don’tthinkit,” I correct, voice low, and certain. “I know it. You’re not chasing some impossible dream, you’re built for this. Go get it, Lil’. No hesitation.”
I glance out the window as the city blurs past, her voice grounding me in a way nothing else can. For a moment, the chaos waiting for me fades, replaced by her laughter, her ambition, the quiet gravity of everything we’re fighting for.
“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs, warmth wrapped around every word. “Hyping me up like this.”
“Someone has to.” I smirk. “If that investor wants a meeting, set it up. And if you need money for your portfolio, materials—”
“Matt.” There’s a warning in her voice. Soft and steady, and God help me, I feel it everywhere.
“What?” I ask innocently, the grin already tugging at my mouth. “I’m just saying—if you need anything, I’m in. I’ll happily throw money at your dreams like an unhinged billionaire if required.”
She laughs, and something in my chest gives way at the sound of her being so light, so carefree.
“That’s not the point,” she says gently. “I don’t want to be the girl who gets through the door because someone paid for her place. I want respect. I want them to look at my work and know I deserve it.”
I lean my head back against the seat, letting out a slow breath.
“I know,” I say quietly. “And you can do it on your own. I just want you to remember…” My voice drops, honesty slipping through before I can stop it. “You don’thaveto do any of this alone anymore.”
