Chapter 44
forty-four
. . .
Grant
I stay hidden behind the corner of the studio building, watching Hazel hug Sophia goodbye. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but the sight of them together has me frozen in place. Sophia kneels to Hazel's level—like she always does—making my daughter feel heard and important.
Her hair is shorter now, falling just past her shoulders instead of down her back.
The same golden brown catches the afternoon sun, but everything else about her seems muted somehow.
The spark in her eyes has dimmed, and her smile seems more careful, professional.
It's the kind she uses for press junkets and red carpets, not the real one that used to light up my kitchen in the morning.
A familiar ache tightens in my chest when Hazel mentions my morning coffee habit. I've tried to hide how much Sophia's absence has affected me, but Hazel notices everything. She always does.
I should have told her. I should have explained about the kids at school, about the panic that gripped me every time I saw another photographer.
Instead, I let distance and silence do the work for me, watching her slowly withdraw until she was gone.
The coward's way out. Now, seeing the shadows under her eyes and the way her shoulders tense slightly when Hazel mentions my name—I did that.
I put that wariness there, that hint of hurt she's trying so hard to hide.
I press my back against the cool concrete of the building, staying hidden.
It's safer here, watching from a distance. These past weeks, I’ve gotten good at burying myself in work, in meetings, in anything that keeps me from admitting I might have broken something irreplaceable—that in trying to protect Hazel, I may have cost her someone who loved her almost as much as I do.
On the drive home, Hazel chatters non-stop.
"Sophia's hair is shorter now," she says, leaning her head to the window. "And she said maybe we could get ice cream soon. Did you know she was back? Why didn't you tell me?"
I focus on the road, grateful for an excuse not to meet her gaze. "I didn't know."
"She looks pretty," Hazel continues. "But kind of sad—like you do sometimes when you think I'm not looking."
My grip tightens on the steering wheel as the memories wash over me. The weeks of burying myself in work until I'm too exhausted to think. Picking up my phone to call her a hundred times before setting it down. Scanning every article about her Vancouver project just to see her face.
I kept telling myself she was probably better off without me, but that didn't stop me from driving by her house some nights, just in case she was back. All I saw were dark windows and an empty driveway.
The worst moments come when something reminds me of her.
When Hazel puts on a movie we once watched together, the smell of coconut shampoo in the grocery store aisle, or how my office chair feels too big and empty without Sophia curled up in it.
More than once, I've turned to share a joke with her before remembering she's not there.
When we step into the house, the smell of Sarah's homemade lasagna fills the air. She's been coming by more often, probably sensing Hazel and I need the company.
"And Sophia said she'd try to make time to see me," Hazel announces, dumping her backpack by the stairs. "I'm going upstairs to change. Be right back!"
Sarah waits until Hazel disappears upstairs. "Sophia's back?"
"Apparently," I say, sinking into a kitchen chair. "We ran into her at the studio."
"And?"
"And nothing. I'm sure she was wrapping up post-production on Survivor. Hazel saw her while I hid in the shadows." I rub my face. "It doesn't change anything."
Sarah sets her spoon down with careful deliberation. "Mom called this morning."
I tense. "How is she?"
"She's good. We talked about Dad," Sarah says softly, "and about you."
I swallow hard. "Sarah—"
"She told me something that stuck with me. If she had the chance to do it all over, even knowing how it would end and how much it would hurt, she'd still choose Dad every time."
I shake my head. "That's different."
"Is it?" Sarah leans against the counter. "You're so focused on keeping yourself—and Hazel—safe that you're guaranteeing you'll both miss out on real happiness."
"I saw what losing Dad did to Mom."
"Yes," Sarah says, resting a hand on my shoulder, "and she still says it was worth it. The only thing worse than losing love is never letting yourself have it at all."
I roll my eyes at the cliché comment. I'm saved from the conversation when Hazel thunders back down the stairs, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. "Can we have garlic bread, too?"
Sarah glances up from her seat at the kitchen counter, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Already in the oven."
I lean against the doorway, watching them both, pretending this moment doesn't ache as much as it does. They're my family, my whole world, but there's another silence here that feels heavier now, emptier.
It wasn't like this when Sophia was here. She was the spark that made this house come alive. She knew how to make Hazel laugh so hard she'd snort and how to get Sarah to relax and stay for another glass of wine instead of rushing back to her to-do list. With Sophia, it all felt…right.
I swallow hard as the knot in my throat tightens. I thought letting her go was the right thing. Safer. For Hazel. For me. For her. I told myself it would hurt less in the long run, that we'd be fine without her, and that I couldn't risk letting her in only to lose her the way my mom lost my dad.
But I was wrong. Without her, it's like the light's been switched off in this house. I miss her.
I run a hand over my jaw, exhaling slowly.
I told myself I could live without her, that I'd be protecting Hazel, saving us all from a pain we didn't need to feel.
But this—this—is worse. The ache of knowing she's out there, thinking I didn't want her, that she didn't matter when the truth is… I'm in love with her.
"I think I made a mistake," I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Hazel pauses mid-spin, and she turns to look at me with wide, curious eyes. "About what?"
My chest tightens. I glance at Sarah, but she's watching me, waiting. There's no turning back now.
"Sophia," I say, forcing the name past my lips.
Hazel blinks, and then her face lights up. "Finally!" She grins, and her gap-toothed smile makes my chest ache all over again. "I miss her, Daddy. You're gonna fix it, right?"
I clear my throat, nodding once. "Yeah. I'm gonna fix it."
"Good," Hazel says with the certainty only a six-year-old can muster before skipping back to the counter.
Sarah leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Well, if you're serious about fixing it, you'd better be ready to go all in. Sophia won't settle for halfway."
I meet her gaze, my jaw tightening with determination. "I know. And this time, neither will I."
Sarah grins. "Well, little brother, you've come to the right people. Let's make a plan."
"You should tell everyone you love her!" Hazel bounces on her toes, flooding the kitchen with her excitement. "Get a megaphone on top of a building or one of those planes that write in the sky, or go on TV and—"
I freeze as her words ignite an idea. "Hazel…you're brilliant."
"I am?" Her face lights up.
I pull out my phone and dial Lucas while I pace. Sarah and Hazel exchange curious looks.
"Hey, Grant. What's up?" Lucas answers.
"I need to make a statement," I say, running a hand through my hair. "About Sophia. Or maybe you can get someone to write an article. Something that lets me set the record straight and share how I feel about Sophia."
"Um."
There's a pause, and then another voice cuts in. "Oh, thank God. You finally got your head out of your ass."
"Jess?"
"You're on speaker," Lucas explains.
"Grant," Jess says, using that brisk, no-nonsense tone she reserves for situations that need immediate fixing, "I have a slot open for next week's podcast. I'll make a deal with you.
You go on the record about the rumors around the streaming service sale, and I'll give you air time for whatever public declaration you are after.
No pre-recorded questions, no script—just you talking honestly. "
"Hang on," Lucas cuts in. "Let's think about this."
"What? Why? The press will eat it up," Jess says. "Exclusive interview, industry titan Grant Hall showing his vulnerable side…"
"Maybe, but it can't look totally self-serving. And what if it backfires?" Lucas asks.
"It won't backfire. You act like I'm not a professional who does this every day."
"I like the idea of this," I tell them both.
"More importantly," Jess interjects, "Sophia tunes in every week. She even listened from Vancouver."
I glance at Hazel, who's practically vibrating with excitement, and at Sarah, who nods her approval.
"One condition," I say. "I want Hazel involved. If we're doing this, we go all in."
"Dad!" Hazel throws her arms around me. "Can I tell the story about how you keep making too much coffee?"
I hug her back, feeling something settle in my chest for the first time in weeks. "Yeah, sweetheart. You can tell that story."
"I'll get some talking points prepared," Lucas offers, "something about setting the record straight—"
"No." My voice is firm. "Jess is right. No PR spin. Just the truth. I love her, I was scared, and I want her back."
A beat of silence follows before Jess speaks again, a smile in her voice. "Well, well. Look who finally learned to use his words."
Sarah squeezes my shoulder. "Mom's going to be so proud. Dad would be, too."
"Thursday at two," Jess says. "Don't be late. And Grant? Show up to win her back."
I hang up, turning to my sister and my daughter—my team. "Any advice?"
"Tell her about the pictures," Hazel says.
I frown. "What pictures?"
"The ones you keep looking at on your phone. You smile and look sad at the same time."
I nod, my mind already churning with how to say everything Sophia needs to hear. I only have a few days to figure out the right words, to show her I'm ready to embrace it all, especially the possibility of forever.
"Dad?" Hazel asks, suddenly solemn. "What if she doesn't listen to the episode?"
Sarah grins. "Oh, she'll listen. Between me, Blair, and Jess, we'll make sure of it."
For the first time in weeks, hope spreads through me. Now all I have to do is not screw this up.
Again.