Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Lila
Avoice comes through the speakers before the video even finishes connecting.
Bright. Efficient. The kind of cheerful that makes me feel like a problem she’s already solved.
ERS's PR manager—Marissa is the one talking.
I sit at one end of the sofa with my legs tucked under me, hands folded tightly in my lap. Cam sits at the other end. Not far. Not close.
The space between us feels intentional.
My nerves buzz under my skin anyway.
Because of the kisses. Because of the stadium. Because he’s been quiet since the game, quieter than before, like his words cost him something now and he’s trying not to spend them.
The coffee table is staged. Sasha set it up. Bottled water. Notepads. The whole “this is normal” illusion.
It doesn’t work on me.
The laptop sits open on the table, faces appearing one by one in little boxes.
Evelyn Sterling first. Perfect lighting. Calm eyes.
George, their Data Scientist, is next, already smiling like he can’t wait to share something fun.
And Marissa, the PR lead, leaning forward with a headset and a grin that makes my stomach tighten before she even speaks.
“Hi, everyone,” Evelyn says. “Thank you for making time.”
Cam nods. “Of course.”
I nod too. I’m very good at nodding.
I expect this to be about safety. Scheduling. The attempted breach at the gates. Something concrete.
Instead Marissa’s smile widens like she’s about to announce a surprise.
“We need to talk about the optics of you two.”
The word optics turns the air to ice.
My stomach drops so quickly I feel it in my throat.
I glance at Cam without meaning to. He doesn’t react. Not visibly. But I can see it in the set of his shoulders. The focus. The way he goes still the way athletes do before contact.
He’s listening.
Marissa clicks her mouse. I hear it through the speakers like a gun cocking.
“First, I just want to say—amazing work,” she chirps. “The public is eating it up.”
Eating it up.
Like we’re a snack.
George laughs softly. “It’s true. The engagement metrics—”
Evelyn lifts a hand gently, as if to keep the tone professional. “Let’s review the status and next steps.”
Status.
Next steps.
My fingers curl open and closed in my lap. I press my thumb into my palm hard enough to leave a mark.
Across from me, Cam looks calm. Controlled.
I try to match him.
But my heartbeat is suddenly loud enough that I’m afraid the microphone will pick it up.
Because if they’re talking about optics, they’re talking about the kiss.
And if they’re talking about the kiss like it’s a strategy…
Then what was it?
Marissa doesn’t wait for permission.
A slide fills the screen. Charts. Arrows. Numbers climbing like they’re proud of themselves.
“Engagement is up six hundred percent,” she says brightly. “Positive sentiment up forty. Cam, coverage of your lawsuit has almost completely flipped.”
My chest tightens.
George nods enthusiastically. “It’s remarkable, actually.”
Marissa beams. “Lila, your fanbase is rallying hard around the relationship. Protective. Loyal. They love the narrative.”
Narrative.
I swallow.
“This is PR fire,” Marissa continues. “In the best way. You two basically saved each other’s reputations.”
Saved.
Cam exhales.
Not sharply. Not loudly.
Relief.
The sound is small, but it lands like a punch to my ribs.
Because relief means something was fixed.
Because relief means something was gained.
My pulse skids.
My palms go slick. I press them into my thighs and force myself to keep breathing.
George chuckles. “Honestly, it’s textbook. Crisis softened by romance.”
I stare at the screen, at the little arrow climbing higher and higher, and feel something fold inward in my chest. Slow. Painful. Like paper creased the wrong way.
Marissa leans closer to her camera. “Cam, being linked to Lila gives you a sense of calm. Safety. People trust her. They trust you more by association.”
Trust.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
I trusted the kiss. The quiet. The way his hand felt sure on my jaw.
Across the couch, Cam’s knee bounces once. Stops.
He’s uncomfortable. I can see that.
But discomfort isn’t denial.
And the part of me that’s been burned before is already drawing conclusions faster than I can stop it.
This helped him.
He needed this.
He needed me.
The room feels smaller. The air thinner.
Marissa smiles like she’s just solved a puzzle. “This is exactly the kind of alignment we hoped for.”
Alignment.
I don’t feel aligned.
I feel used.
Evelyn shifts slightly on the screen, folding her hands like she’s about to ask something reasonable.
“Given the momentum,” she says, “we’d like you to continue appearing together publicly.”
My chest tightens.
“The museum and the charity outings went well,” Marissa adds quickly. “Low risk. High reward. We’ll plan more moments like that.”
I stare at the coffee table. At the ring of condensation under my water bottle. At anything except Cam.
“And the kiss,” Marissa continues, almost gleeful. “That was lightning. Fans went feral. Couples like you don’t just drop into our laps every day.”
Drop.
Into.
Our.
Laps.
Cam shifts beside me. I feel it more than I see it.
He clears his throat.
“If it helps stabilize things,” he says slowly, “yeah. I’ll keep doing it.”
The words are calm. Thoughtful. Measured.
But he doesn’t look at me when he says it.
My vision blurs around the edges.
The balcony fades. The way his thumb traced my cheek. The way the stadium disappeared for one breathless second.
All of it shrinks. Reframes. Becomes something staged.
Something I fell for anyway.
Marissa smiles like she just won something. “Perfect. That’s exactly the consistency we need.”
George nods enthusiastically. “Your compatibility score jumped again after the public kiss. It’s fascinating data.”
He's still smiling.
“Cam,” he adds, “this is the best publicity you’ve had in years.”
I wait for Cam to say something.
Anything.
To laugh it off. To correct them. To say, That’s not why I kissed her.
He doesn’t.
He nods once, jaw ticking like he’s holding something back.
George barrels on. “Honestly? Lila is the best thing that’s happened to your brand this year.”
Something inside me goes very still.
This is Reid all over again. Different face. Same outcome. Men standing taller in my light while I absorb the heat.
I’ve seen this ending.
Evelyn thanks us. Marissa mentions scheduling. George waves cheerfully.
The call ends.
The screen goes dark.
Cam turns toward me, concern already forming. “Lila—”
I stand too fast.
“I should have known,” I whisper. Not to him. To myself.
His brows pull together. “What?”
I shake my head and step back, every instinct screaming retreat.
I don’t trust my voice. I don’t trust my heart.
I walk away before he can say another word.
Before he can confirm what I already believe.
I close the bedroom door softly behind me.
And on the other side of it, I let myself break.