Page 198 of Rush

What is this supposed to mean?

Delete.

I miss you too.

I typed it without even meaning to, my thumb pauses over send. My chest tightens.

I lock the phone and toss it onto the couch. I don’t want him to think he still has that kind of power over me.

I glare at the book again before tucking it behind a cushion.

Just for now.

Writing momentum lost, I spend the rest of the afternoon packing for Atlanta. Though my mind doesn’t seem to get the memo, trawling through everything,

Alex. Broderick. Alex. Broderick.

A carousel of self-inflicted torture I can’t get off.

But none of it changes anything. No matter how many ways Alex keeps reaching for me—little gestures, books, memories stitched into paper—it doesn’t undo it.

I zip the suitcase shut just as my phone rings.

Kylie.

“Hey,” I answer, staring out the window.

“I’ll be quick,” she says. “Given your recent success in the charity space—Mark’s landed you an invite to the Children’s Hospital Holiday Gala. To attend and perform.”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t give me a beat. “Mark’s already arranged for Rio and the team to be at your place by three.”

“Okay.” I sigh.

I probably won’t see Broderick before I leave. The thought lands heavy.

After he dodged me—twice—on Thanksgiving, maybe he didn’t want to.

“This is another great PR opportunity—so have a good time. Sing your butt off. Kylie out.”

“Did you really just say?—”

Too late. She’s hung up. I laugh, shaking my head.

The gala would be a good distraction and lord knows I need it right now. With little time to prepare I head to my music room and start practicing for tomorrow night.

The limo glidesdown Fifth Avenue, the city lit with Christmas lights. Snow flurries blur the windows, softening the edges of everything outside. I smooth my dress over my thighs for whatfeels like the seventh time—deep emerald silk, long sleeves, low back. Riley insisted on the color, said it made my eyes lookalluring.

My fingers twitch in my lap. The gala is supposed to be a distraction. Smile, sing, pose for a few photos. Easy. Except nothing feels easy tonight. I’ve been playing emotional ping-pong in my head for days, and now I’m here, in full glam, sweating under a fur-lined coat, wondering if Broderick’s just…done.

I didn’t want to reach out first my pride still a little bruised.

Chris pulls up to the curb, and the flashes start before Tony can even open the door. I straighten, breathe, and step out, heels crunching against the pavement as the camera shutters follow me like insects.

The air is cold, hitting my back, sending a shiver down my spine. When I get inside, I check my coat. The ballroom is warm, filled with chandeliers and garlands, Christmas carols drifting through the space, laughter, and waiters carrying champagne-laden trays. The buzz of money, glittered over with seasonal cheer. I move through it on autopilot until I hear his voice.