The mattress shifts, and I feel Micah slide into the bed behind me under the blankets, one arm wrapping around my waist. Hepulls me back against his warm body like it’s instinct, like he’s done this before. Likely for Jude.
And I break. I turn into him, burying my face in his shirt, fists clutching the fabric as I sob as quietly as possible so I don't wake Heather. And he holds me.
“I…I’ve seen so much,” he murmurs into the dark, voice rough. “Things I shouldn’t have. Things that shouldn’t evenexist. I’ve watched…watched him protect me from her—Adriana. Most of the time. But there were other times…other women. And I couldn’t do anything. I was high, taken, drugged. Helpless. While he…while he was being dragged into another room. He did what he could to protect me, but while Adriana stole piece after piece of his soul, I was losing mine to strangers on the other side of a wall.”
I press closer to him, letting him speak, letting him unburden himself.
“He doesn’t know about a lot of it. I’d always tell him that I was out with some woman Iwantedto be out with. Sometimes I was, sure. But most of the time? No. He would have lost it.”
“This will stay between us,” I whisper. And I mean it. I hate knowing that he’s gone through any of that. “You guys protected each other. That’s real love, Micah.”
He smiles softly. “I’ve watched him drown himself in drugs and alcohol over and over,” he continues, his hand stroking my back slowly. “Every time I saw Jude and Adriana together, his eyes were so vacant. Like a part of him had already died, and no one could reach it. Years.Yearsof our lives stolen. I’ve been powerless, and I’ll never forgive that. But I won’t be powerless anymore. I’m not sick without them because of the Suboxone. I’m stronger. We’re going to get him out of this. I don’t care what it takes.”
The words make my chest ache, but they also make me feel…lighter, somehow. I press my face deeper into him, clinging tohis warmth. He doesn’t try to fix anything when I cry. He doesn’t tell me to be strong. He just holds me, breathing with me.
“We’ll get him back,” he whispers. “I promise.”
I nod against his chest, letting his words sink in, clinging to them like a lifeline. I don’t know how anyone could make a promise like that, knowing what we’re up against. But I hold onto it anyway.
We stay like that for a long time. I let myself rest in his arms, surrounded by the shared love and the fear we both carry for the same man. When my breathing finally slows, he doesn’t move. He just holds me, like letting go would be the wrong thing to do right now. And for the first time since Jude left, I sleep soundly.
The skyline is darkening outside the hotel window, the city lights flickering like distant fireflies. I stand in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the hem of my black dress one last time. It’s simple and sleek, almost unassuming, but I hope it carries some kind of power. The way Heather’s jaw dropped when she saw me in it gives me hope that it does. I nearly trip in my black heels as I take a deep breath, trying to convince myself that I belong in this world. I’ve been anxious all day, keeping up with my medication.
Heather’s in red, her hair pinned up perfectly. She looks like she just fell out of a magazine. Micah stands behind her, adjusting his simple black suit. He leans down to kiss her temple, murmuring something soft about how beautiful she looks. I swallow hard, trying not to let the sting of jealousy show.
Micah turns to me, scanning my dress critically. “You look amazing,” he says simply, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Classic. Confident. That’s good for the cameras. The paparazzi knows who I am, so we will likely be photographedtogether. If I'm asked any questions about Jude and the band, just allow me to handle it, okay?”
I nod, swallowing again. “Do you…think our appearance could draw unwanted attention?” My voice is low, almost a whisper. “Nolan, Adriana, Alexei…if they see us here…”
He shakes his head slowly. “We can’t control what they see. All we can do is play the part, look confident, look like you don’t miss him. That’s the optics. Smile, hold your head high. That’s it. We’re going to the gala together and having a great time.”
I frown. “And if Jude sees the pictures?”
Micah shrugs. “He’ll probably know why we’re here. He’s smart. Focus on what youcancontrol, Emma.”
I glance at Heather. She’s smoothing the fabric of her red dress, trying to hide her nerves behind a mask of poise. I notice the tension in her jaw and the tiny quiver in her hands. Micah notices, too. He steps close, murmuring, “Hey, look at me for a second.” Heather and I both do, and he gives a small, grounding squeeze to our shoulders. “We’re going to get through this. And, hey, it won’t feel so bad with two gorgeous women by my side tonight.”
Heather kisses him, and I smile.
“Okay, Em,” Heather snaps out of her discomfort, placing her hands on my shoulders. “I love yousomuch, but you have to...not be boring.”
I scoff. “I am not boring, bitch.”
Her eyes widen. “Ah! See? Cussing. You need to do that more.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “I’m just kidding, you know. You’re not vanilla. I just always told you that because you were the responsible friend. If anything, you’re the smartest and kindest human I know.”
I smile, suddenly feeling like I could cry.Dang it.I am someone who cries at everything emotional. “Okay, let’s get this done, yeah?” I turn to glance out the window. NYC is so differentfrom Seaside. So loud and fast and overwhelming. My heartbeat hammers away in my chest, imagining Jude somewhere across the world, and it’s like a knife twisting.
I would have loved to see this city with him.
I take a final glance in the mirror. Black dress. Heels. Hair flowing over my shoulders. Smile at the cameras when they flash. Hold your shoulders back.
Look like you don’t care.
Micah steps back. “Let’s go. Gala’s waiting, and we’ve got a job to do.”
I exhale slowly, letting the fear pool in my stomach settle just a fraction. I don’t know what Rook will say. I don’t know if he’ll help. But I do know this—I’ll do everything I can to pull Jude out of this hell.
Micah pulls the rental car up to the curb, and I am swallowing the urge to vomit. The building rises in front of us, all limestone and glass and warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk. The Met at night feels unreal. It’s like a majestic building that’s been standing for centuries. Black cars line the street, one after another, valets moving with perfect ease. Camera flashes already pop from across the barricades.
