21. ARIA
T he buzz of my phone jolts me out of my reverie, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my veins . Blake Wrightman. With trembling fingers, I accept the call, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Aria, you sly minx!” Blake’s voice booms in my ear. “I just got off the phone with Andrea from WME. Apparently, you've been holding out on me.”
I blink, momentarily stunned. In the chaos of the past few days, I almost forgot about the screenplay I sent to Andrea, a top agent at WME, in a moment of desperate hope. “You...you talked to Andrea about my script?”
“Well, technically, Andrea called me. Turns out, she loved that vampire monstrosity you sent me. When she saw your name pop up in her inbox, she just had to dive in. And when all was said and done, she gave me a ring.”
I cringe, remembering the blind hope that inspired me to hit send on that email to Andrea. “Blake, I can explain?—”
“Explain what? That you’re a comedic genius? Because that’s what Andrea seems to think. They were absolutely raving about your screenplay, Aria. Said it was like if Nora Ephron and Phoebe Waller-Bridge had a love child.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over me. “She really said that?”
“She did. And she’s not the only one who’s impressed. I gave it a read myself, and I have to say, Aria, I think you've got something special here. The wit, the heart, the searing honesty...it’s everything I've always known cringe-comedy was capable of.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, pure, unadulterated joy. “I don’t know what to say, Blake. This is...this is unexpected.”
“Well, get ready to have your expectations blown out of the water, because Andrea wants to sign you. Like, today. We think this could be the start of a beautiful partnership.”
We talk for a while longer, ironing out the details and making plans for the future. But amidst the excitement, a twinge of guilt tugs at my heart. I want to ask how Taylor is doing, but I can’t break the NDA I signed when Gretchen hired me so many years ago.
As I reflect on the past few weeks, I realize just how much I've grown. The manipulative rebounding job that once felt like a lifeline now feels like duct tape over a sinking ship, a quick fix for something that needed real repair. But more than that, I've learned that—like anything good in this world—true love isn’t about games or power plays; it’s about vulnerability, honesty, and the courage to fight for what matters most.
We say our goodbyes, the promise of the future hanging heavy in the air. But even as I bask in the glow of my potential success, the ache in my heart, the one that inspired that potential, remains.
I mope around the apartment for most of the day, re-binging Love is Blind UK while doom-scrolling through my LinkedIn feed, trying to scope out opportunities that will pay the rent while waiting for my writing career to take off. I'm halfway through Season 1, and cursing the day Ollie was born, when a knock at the door startles me out of my thoughts.
I glance at the clock, surprised to see how late it is. With a sigh, I head to the door, half-expecting to find Mark on the other side, holding a plate of shrimp lumpia in one hand and ready with another excuse about why he can’t move in yet. Probably something about his mom throwing yet another party and needing his help to set up, but we both know the real reason—he’s not ready to leave her alone just yet. His stories always circle back to her, though he pretends it’s all about the logistics.
But when I open the door, it’s not Mark who greets me. It’s Pedro.
He stands there, his dark hair tousled and a look of uncertainty etched across his features. “Hey,” he says, his voice a mix of hesitation and determination.
I stare at him, my heart racing in my chest. “What are you doing here?”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine. “I needed to see you. Can we talk?”
I hesitate, my mind whirling with the implications of letting Pedro back into my life. The scars from our breakup are still raw, the memories of our failed relationship a constant ache in my chest. But against my better judgment, I find myself nodding.
I step aside, letting him enter. We make our way to the living room, an awkward dance of averted gazes and uncomfortable silence. As we settle onto the sofa, the tension is palpable.
I fidget with a throw pillow, my eyes darting around the room, desperate to look anywhere but at him. But I know I can’t avoid this forever. I'm the one who messed up, who broke the fragile trust we'd started to rebuild. It’s up to me to break the ice.
“I'm so sorry,” I start, my voice trembling with emotion. “What I did...it was wrong. Beyond wrong. And I understand if you can’t forgive me.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he thinks, his expression unreadable. “It hurt. Knowing you could do something like that, that you thought I deserved something like that. But...but I know I'm not blameless in all of this. There’s a reason you felt that way. ”
I feel my chest constricting, my breathing speeding up as he fixes his gaze on me, his expression full of pain. He continues, his tone low and regretful.
“I let my insecurities control me. When you offered me that money, back then…I panicked. I felt like, if I took the money, it would always be there between us. A reminder that I wasn’t enough. And if I didn’t take it, we'd still be together, but you'd eventually realize the same thing for yourself. I let that…that fear of being seen destroy what we had.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, the weight of his words settling over me. “Well, damn... Like, I kind of always suspected that was how you felt, but hearing it come out of your mouth… I can’t describe how…it doesn’t feel as triumphant as I thought it would.”
He reaches out, his large hand engulfing mine. “I'm sorry. For not being strong enough, for not fighting for us the way I should have. I...I understand if it’s too late, if I've lost my chance. I just really needed you to know that.”
I take a deep breath as I prepare to open myself up and share the dark truth I've been trying to ignore for ages. “When you ended things, it felt like you were telling me I was bad at relationships. Like I wasn’t good enough for you. And instead of telling me the truth, you tried to spare my feelings by dumping me,” I confess, my voice shaking. “Then I stumbled on that rebounding job, and I latched onto it like a life raft. I... I convinced myself that being good at my job meant I was good at love. Like I was proving you wrong. Obviously, that was delusional. But hearing you apologize…it means…everything.”
He nods, his expression awash with a mixture of guilt and compassion. “We really made a mess of things, didn’t we? All we had to do was be honest with each other, but instead, we were like 'hold my beer while I figure this out the hard way'.” He pauses while I let out a soft chuckle. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as his gaze travels over every inch of my face. “But maybe it’s not too late for us?”
I squeeze his hand, a tentative smile curving across my face. “You know, for a tech genius, you can be pretty dense sometimes. But I guess that’s part of your nerdy charm. In case it wasn’t clear from the way I'm looking at you like you’re Harry Styles. I never stopped loving you, even when I was pretending to be the world’s most dysfunctional Cupid.”
He smiles, a real, genuine smile that lights up his whole gorgeous face. “Ah, my little comedy queen is back. I love you more than you'll ever know. And I swear I'm gonna spend every day trying to make you feel that.”
“Oh, I already felt it,” I quip, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.
“Damn right you did,” he chuckles. “And hey, I know we have a lot of work to do to build that trust back. But I promise you I'm gonna fight like hell for us— for you. Because you’re worth it. You always have been.”
My heart swells with a mixture of love and hope, a feeling I'd almost forgotten. “I guess you better clear your schedule, because you’re gonna be busy.”
He smiles as he stares at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, I've got news for you. I just sold Aira Labs, so my schedule’s wide open.”
“Wait, what?!” I exclaim, my jaw dropping in shock. “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope,” he shrugs, as if selling his tech startup is as casual as ordering takeout. “I won’t lie. Letting go of my baby hurts like a bitch. But just think of all the screenplays you've written that I can help produce with the $1.3 billion buyout package.”
“$1.3 BILLION?!” I shriek, my mind reeling with the enormity of the number. “You’re worth that much, and you still wear Fruit of the Loom T-shirts?”
“Hey, don’t knock the threads,” he grins, tugging at his black tee. “It’s part of the tech bro uniform.”
He leans in, his lips meeting mine in a soft, tender kiss that quickly becomes urgent. His stubble rasps against my skin, scraping the surface raw in the most satisfying way. His hand cups my face as he pulls away, his thumb brushing away the tears that still linger on my skin.
Leaning in again, I have a hard time catching my breath as the kiss deepens. I gasp as he softly bites my lip, and now we’re both trembling with the intoxicating need to be closer; the desperate longing we've both been holding onto for so long.
As our lips part, we’re both breathless, our chests heaving with the intensity of the moment. He pulls me close and I breathe him in, savoring the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his arms.
I know we have a long road ahead of us. I know that rebuilding what we had will take time and effort. But in this moment, I have no hesitation it will be worth it. Not a single doubt that’s he ’s worth it.
“So, serious question,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. “How long has it been since you last showered? Because I gotta say, you’re giving off some post-apocalyptic vibes right now.”
I let out a shocked laugh, pulling away to swat at his chest. “Excuse you, but you’re going to have to get used to my 'Elon Musk' if this is going to work.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “I guess it’s a good thing I'm into beautiful, witty women with questionable hygiene.”
“Speaking of my wit,” I say, “you'll never guess who I just got off the phone with.”
I proceed to regale him with the tale of my conversation with Blake, of Andrea’s glowing praise and the promise of a brighter future. As Pedro listens, his eyes shine with pride and adoration.
He pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I always knew you had it in you. It’s about time the rest of the world gets to see that, too. ”
His words wash over me like the warm shower I desperately need. This is the sense of love and validation I was searching for at Full Circle. It only took four years and the downfall of the newest, hottest tech billionaire in Manhattan to get it.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “You make me feel like one-point-four-billion bucks.”
He laughs as he gives me a light swat on the butt. “One-point- three -billion,” he corrects me. “Calm the dollar signs in your eyes.”
And as the night wears on, we trade stories and dreams, our laughter echoing through the apartment. It’s like no time has passed at all, like we’ve picked up right where we left off—only better. Stronger. Wiser. Pedro’s hand never leaves mine, his thumb tracing circles on my skin, a silent promise that he’s here to stay this time.
And as I lean my head on his shoulder, the steady thrum of his heartbeat giving strong lullaby vibes, I realize this is what happiness feels like. Not the fleeting rush of a new job or a shiny partnership, but the bone-deep contentment of being exactly where you’re meant to be, with the person you’re meant to be with.