Chapter forty-one
Lindsay
CAMICon.
Music thumps from somewhere overhead. Screens flash trailers, panels, faces I vaguely recognize but don't stop to name.
People brush past us in costumes and fandom tees, laughter and excitement spilling everywhere, like the world never learned how to be quiet.
This time I've got my security team trailing at a respectful distance.
I'm grateful they're here. More grateful they blend in. The last thing I need is to stick out more than my sparkly costume already does.
Quinn moves like she owns the space.
She just steps forward and expects the crowd to part—and somehow it does. Clipboard tucked under one arm, phone in the other, boots made for distance.
I trail behind her for half a second before she glances back.
"No lagging," she says cheerfully. "Heartbreak is allowed. Wallowing is not."
I smile. That's why I came.
That—and because sitting still feels lethal.
We pause near a massive schedule board while Quinn scans the listings.
Nearby, people whisper about a fashion heir’s panel. A hot actor's surprise appearance. A rumor about a royal advisor slipping in quietly through a back entrance.
Quinn doesn't look impressed. "My dad would hate this," she says mildly. "Too loud. Too visible. And exactly the opposite of him."
I blink. "Your dad?"
She shrugs. "Standard issue billionaire." Then she waves a hand dismissively. "Money is boring. People are interesting."
I laugh, startled.
"So how did you end up helping me?"
She grins at me.
"I liked organizing birthday parties when I was six. Turns out that skill scales nicely."
We walk. Merch halls. Fan art. Panels spilling applause into the corridors.
Everywhere I look, people are delighted to be exactly themselves.
I try to match the energy. I comment on costumes. I laugh at Quinn's running commentary. I even buy something ridiculous and sparkly that I absolutely do not need.
But the funk doesn't lift.
It lingers in the background, a low ache that flares every time I see a couple leaning together, laughing.
In love.
We stop near a panel room, the line already curling around the corner. Quinn checks her phone, then looks at me carefully.
"You're doing great. Heartbroken, but still here. Still you."
I exhale slowly. "Thanks."
She doesn't tell me to get over it. She doesn't tell me I deserve better. She just nods. "No prob."
Then she hooks her arm through mine and tugs me forward.
"Come on. You loved this before everything got complicated. You still get to love it now."
