Chapter 27
Pepper
The farewell at the airport had been an absolute, agonizing blur.
Mars, Nia, and Stormy had piled into the car at dawn, refusing to let me make that drive alone, knowing me far too well to let me slip away without a fight.
They didn’t push me, though. They didn't try to force me to unpack my bags or scream at me for running.
They just held me. We stood outside the international terminal, wrapped in a tight, suffocating circle, crying so hard it felt physically painful.
But I needed to get back sometime. My life was in Japan. My company was in Japan.
Yet, the moment I boarded that plane, flashes of Aaron’s face went through my head—the profound, quiet apology written in his dark eyes at the park, the intense, unyielding heat in his voice when he promised he’d never miss a chance to kiss me.
It made my heart literally, physically ache with a dull, hollow pressure that didn't leave my chest for the entire fourteen-hour flight.
When the gloomy, gray weather of Tokyo finally greeted me as the wheels touched down on the tarmac, I looked out the window and felt a massive, sudden pang of sorrow hit me square in the gut.
This was not Houston.
The air was damp and cold, lacking the thick, electric warmth of the Texas summer.
I felt absolutely, utterly horrible. It was a crushing, suffocating weight in my stomach, a deep realization that I had successfully protected myself from future heartbreak by completely breaking my own heart in the present.
But I had to push it away. I was Pepper Swanson.
I was an international powerhouse. I couldn't afford to fall apart over a man with a handbook.
When I finally reached my empty high-rise apartment, the pristine, minimalist glass walls and modern lines didn't feel like a sanctuary anymore.
I dropped my luggage by the door, and as I walked into the living space, it was just so quiet.
The silence was deafening, entirely missing the rich, deep rumble of a laugh that used to fill my ears after midnight.
I sat down on the edge of the sofa, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled out my phone to text the girls and let them know I had safely landed.
Almost instantly, a reply from Nia popped up on the screen.
I'm glad you're home safe, Pep. But Cal says Aaron is not taking it well at all. He completely lost his mind when he found out you left.
I stared at the text bubble, my chest tightening so hard I could barely breathe.
I quickly flipped the phone face-down on the cushion, pulling my hands away.
I couldn't think about this right now. If I let myself dwell on his pain, I would pack my bags, buy a return ticket, and throw away every single rule I’d ever built to survive.
Desperate for a distraction, I opened my digital calendar on my laptop and dialed my assistant.
"Boss lady!" Priscilla answered on the very first ring, her voice crisp and grounding over the line.
"I'm back in town, Cilla," I said, forcing my voice to smooth into a professional, level register. "What exactly do we have scheduled for the rest of August?"
"Oh... um..." Priscilla hesitated, her keyboard clicking suddenly stopping. Her voice sounded an uncharacteristic mix of deeply concerned but tightly professional as she trailed off into a rapid series of things planned—editorial reviews, runway consultations, and catalog layouts.
I was barely listening to her, my eyes drifting toward the window as the Tokyo rain began to smudge the glass. "Sounds good," I interrupted quietly. "Any correspondence regarding the Jolt campaign?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," Priscilla said, her tone turning incredibly cautious. "Um... Mr. Fields called the studio line again. He explicitly asked that you give him a call. He said it’s regarding the post-production alignment metrics, but... Pep, he sounded very desperate."
I closed my eyes, a heavy, jagged breath escaping my lips.
For the next month, there really wasn't any realistic way to avoid hearing his name.
We were locked into a hard September deadline, forced to share cloud servers, collaborate on color-grading, and review the final commercial cuts daily to ensure the print billboards matched the film blocks perfectly.
But cutting this off high and dry was the only sensible way to go.
If I gave him an inch, if I let his deep voice rumble through my speaker one more time, the distance would completely destroy me. I had to keep the circuit closed.