Chapter 29
SPLIT DECISION (LIZ)
We hit Jessica’s building at two fourteen.
Mirrors. Lavender air.
Leo stands close enough that our shoulders almost touch. He keeps his hands to himself and gives nothing away.
My reflection looks composed. The rest of me is a different story.
I can still feel his mouth on my skin. I grip my coffee cup harder than I need to. Blue Mountain, brewed the way I like it, because I mentioned it once and he filed the detail away like it mattered.
Leo’s gaze darts to my ring. Then looks forward again.
The doors open.
Jessica Novak’s office is bright and sharp. Glass walls. Sharp edges. A framed Defenders jersey. A board covered in headlines and schedules.
Order as a weapon.
Jessica is already behind her desk, watching us.
She’s not fond of small talk.
“Hi,” she says. “Please sit.”
We do.
Folding her hands, she looks at us with the steady focus of someone who mapped this conversation before we walked in.
“I’ve got good news,” she starts.
I turn wary anyway.
“The media loves you. The Drake story is buried, and unless one of you commits a felony in daylight, it will stay buried.”
I hear the words clearly. Relief tries to move through me and stalls halfway.
Travis has been quiet for weeks.
Quiet enough that I’ve started letting myself believe quiet means over.
Jessica watches my face. “Any contact from him recently?”
I blink. “What?”
“Drake. Calls, texts, sightings. Anything that changes the threat assessment?”
A Louisiana area code I didn’t answer. A man on a beach who knew my old name. A Google alert earlier today.
“No,” I say.
The answer comes out steady. That’s the thing about four years of rebuilding yourself — you get very good at deciding what a room needs to hear.
Jessica holds my gaze for one second longer than the question requires. Then she moves on and taps the folder in front of her.
“You can stop pretending.”
The sentence hits harder than the felony joke did. Jessica pauses just long enough to make sure I feel it.
“The PR relationship can end now. No career impact for Leo. No downside.”
The ring goes hot on my finger. Leo says nothing, but I catch the hit in his face before he shuts it down.
So he feels it too.
My mind just… stops. Because if it’s no longer needed, then we have to make a decision. Is this real or not?
My hand curls tighter around the coffee cup. My mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Jessica studies me once. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Don’t. Listen.”
I clamp my teeth together because arguing with Jessica Novak feels like arguing with a wall.
She taps the folder again.
“We’re doing a soft fade,” she continues smoothly. “No staged appearances. No fiancé language. No arranged-looking photos. If you keep the ring on, fine. If you take it off, also fine. Just don’t make either choice public.”
I can feel myself gearing up in all the wrong ways.
“What does that mean?”
“It means no statement. No posts. No theater. If anyone asks, you’re private and focused on work.”
Boring. Safe. Ordinary.
Jessica shifts her attention to Leo. “Camp starts soon.”
“Next Friday.”
“Good. That gives the public a reason not to see you together. They’ll assume you’re busy.”
“Okay.”
I hate how easy he makes it sound.
Jessica looks back at me. “Liz, this means you can stay in Brooklyn or not. You can see each other or not. What you can’t do is be indecisive.”
The words hit in a row, clean as bullets.
“You’re basically telling us to—”
“To decide. Or stop letting optics decide for you.”
She leans back slightly.
“I’m not asking you to define it for me. I’m asking you not to feed it to strangers.”
I have nothing ready for that. Leo shifts beside me, the smallest movement. Jessica notices.
“You’re calm,” she says.
Leo’s mouth barely moves. “I’m listening.”
Jessica holds his stare for a beat. “Can you keep your discipline through camp?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” she says, satisfied, then turns back to me. “And you? What’s next?”
The question catches me off guard.
“My last week at the ER is coming up,” I say carefully. “Then I have a week off. Then orientation. Then med school ramps up.”
I don’t mention Ulm. Or my parents. Or the week I already decided not to take.
“Perfect.”
I stare at her. “Perfect?”
“Perfect for a fade. Two busy schedules. Minimal public overlap. Nobody needs a story.”
That lands with real force because she’s right. The cover is gone. If we keep doing this now, it’s just us doing it.
The air beside me tightens. I feel it without looking.
Jessica stands, ending the meeting with the same efficiency she started it.
“My team will coordinate the shift. You don’t have to do anything except be consistent.”
Then she looks between us. “I’m not blind. This started as optics. But at private events, family events—it doesn’t read staged anymore.”
I can feel the embarrassment break the surface, and I hate that Jessica catches it.
Leo gives her nothing.
“That’s a lot of pressure for a new relationship. So take the win. You get to move it out of public view.”
She looks between us.
“No statements. No public breakup. No on-again, off-again theater. You’re private. You’re busy. You’re boring. And whatever you are to each other,” she says, precise as ever, “keep it yours.”
The ring feels loud on my hand.
“Understood.”
She leans back. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”
Leo rises.
Jessica watches us go. “Fifteen minutes,” she says, almost to herself. Then, to me, “See? More than enough.”
We walk out. In the hallway, the light feels too bright. The air feels thinner than it should.
Leo doesn’t touch me. He waits until we’re almost at the door, until the glass walls and sharp light are behind us.
Then he looks at me. His hand hovers at the small of my back.
A question.
I step into it.
His palm settles there, light but certain.
I lean into it.
Not for the cameras. There are no cameras here.
Just a hallway. Just him. Just me choosing.