24. Chapter Twenty-Four #2
"I told everyone to leave," I said. "Evan. Grant. Security. The makeup artist who looked at me like she might ask if I wanted waterproof mascara."
"And did you need that?"
I stared out the window at a slice of skyline and a rooftop pool no one looked emotionally stable enough to use. "I needed silence. I needed the noise to stop long enough to hear myself think. Otherwise I'm just reacting, and I don't trust who I am when I'm reacting."
"That's fair."
"I don't trust that I'm running toward Evan because it feels big and impossible and brave, then calling that growth."
Jamie nodded. "Growth isn't always a solo activity. Sometimes you outgrow the old cage and assume every open door is a trap."
"I hate when you're useful."
"I know. It's devastating for both of us."
Despite myself, I smiled.
He let the bit die, gaze warm and relentless.
"You can write a life where you are not a supporting character," he said. "You can also love someone who doesn't ask you to audition for your own role."
"That sounds fake."
"Rare isn't fake," Jamie said. "It's just not mass-produced."
He settled back and let that sit between us.
A muffled burst of laughter came from the hallway.
Somewhere nearby, a door slammed. A rolling suitcase rattled past with the frantic rhythm of someone late for checkout.
Ordinary hotel noise threaded through the room, stubborn and steady, and for the first time since the photo broke, the tension in my shoulders loosened by a fraction.
Then my phone buzzed again.
We both looked at it.
My stomach dropped.
Jamie picked it up before I could spiral through twelve possible disasters. He glanced at the screen. "Grant says, and I quote, 'No one is dying. She has forty-five minutes before glam. Hydrate her.'"
I covered my face. "I hate this timeline."
"Same, it's very rushed. Poor structure." Jamie held out the iced latte. "Hydrate adjacent."
"That is coffee."
"It contains ice. Ice is water."
I took it from him and sipped because my body was apparently still interested in survival, traitor that it was.
"You know what's funny?" I said after a while.
"Based on your current facial expression, I'm guessing not ha-ha funny."
"Mom always told me she became successful because she had to. She said fear kept her moving. She said she'd rather be exhausted than broken."
Jamie didn't answer right away. Smart man.
"And what do you want?" he asked.
The question hit the part of me I'd been guarding. I sat with it until I could answer without flinching.
"I want to be expansive," I said. "I want a love that doesn't make me choose between my dream and my heart. I want to be with someone who would rather build a bigger table than ask me to give up my seat."
Jamie's smile tilted. "There she is."
Tears burned again, duller this time, less sharp.
"But if I'm wrong?" I asked. "If I choose wrong?"
"Then you choose differently next time," he said. "You will not disappear. That's not in your settings."
A laugh broke loose, wet and unwilling.
He handed me a napkin like he'd been waiting for the moment. I dabbed at the corner of my eye. "You're ridiculous."
"Correct." He leaned forward. "And now, because I am both ridiculous and nosy, I have to ask. Was it at least good enough to ruin your life over? If we're going to be dramatic, I demand quality."
I groaned and slid down the bed until the duvet covered my face. "Yes, okay? It was catastrophic."
"Excellent," Jamie said, delighting in my misery in the way only a real friend could. "Then we are not throwing out catastrophic because the internet got nosy. We are pausing. Breathing. Drinking something that isn't minibar champagne. Remembering you're allowed to want more than survival."
He tugged the duvet down until my eyes met his.
"Call your mom," he added. "Not because you need her permission.
Because you need to remember success and love are not mutually exclusive in the bloodline.
And then, when you're ready, talk to Evan.
Not before the show if it'll wreck your head.
Not while Grant is pacing a trench into the carpet.
When you can say what you mean without bleeding all over it. "
"That I'm a mess?"
"That you won't curate yourself to fit anyone's frame. If he loves you the way I think he does, he'll want the whole damn picture."
I inhaled, shaky and real. "Okay."
"Okay," he echoed.
Another knock hit the door.
"Lila?" Grant called from the hallway. "Glam in thirty-five. Nobody panic. That includes me, which is why I'm saying it out loud."
Jamie pointed at the door. "See? The man is evolving."
"I heard that," Grant snapped.
Jamie grinned. "Good. I meant it lovingly."
I wiped under my eyes with the napkin, then looked toward the garment bag hanging by the rack. My stage outfit waited there, black fabric and silver hardware catching the hotel light.
It still looked like a threat. But maybe not an execution.
Jamie stood and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his shirt, as if he hadn't just walked into my room and dragged me an inch closer to sanity.
"I'm leaving the shortbread because you lied about snacks, and that's your penance.
I will message you every twenty minutes until you respond, because emotional support should also be annoying.
And when TMZ calls me, and they will, I'll tell them nothing except that your mascara is waterproof and your future is none of their business. "
I reached for his hand and squeezed. "Thank you."
He squeezed back. "Always."
At the door, he paused, eyes dancing. "Also, for the record, if you're going to self-destruct on tour, please keep me in the group chat. I hate missing an episode."
"Get out," I said.
This time I meant it with a smile.
After he left, the suite didn't feel quite so airless.
I sat there with hotel shortbread in one hand and my phone in the other, the ache still present but no longer suffocating. I wasn't ready to open the internet. I wasn't ready to face every message. I wasn't ready to stand under lights and pretend I didn't know people were whispering.
But Jamie had done what he always did. He'd reminded me I wasn't fragile.
When I finally picked up the phone, I didn't have a plan. I just had a line in my head, steady as a beat.
Build a bigger table, or move.