After Caroline told the whole story, I called a cab for her. I, too, insisted on going with her, but she refused. At one point, I felt relief that I still had ti to make it to my eting, and on the other hand, I felt like a total selfish loser who only cared about herself.
Caroline sohow knew what I was thinking and tried to lessen my guilt as she consoled , "Hey, it’s not your fault. I was the one who hid things."
Her consoling did the total opposite thing.
Instead of decreasing my guilt, it grew more. I gulped down the lump ford in my throat and tried to reply in my hoarse voice, "But I am your friend. I should have known."
I took a deep breath, almost losing my composure. My eyes started to burn like crazy.
Caroline reached forward and grabbed my hand across the table. Her grip was warm, firm, and desperate. "Stop blaming yourself, okay? You already have enough going on. I didn’t want to dump my ss on you too."
Her words stung more than she realized. Dump. As if her pain was so garbage bag I wasn’t strong enough to carry.
God, that made feel worse. My chest tightened, and I had to blink fast before the tears actually spilled out.
I gave her a wobbly smile, my lips trembling. "You idiot. You think I wouldn’t have listened? That I wouldn’t have dropped everything to be there for you?"
My voice cracked on the last part, and I had to look away before I completely broke down right in front of her.
She squeezed my hand harder, her eyes soft but tired. "You’re here now. That’s what matters."
That sentence hit straight in the gut. Here now. But what about before? What about all those tis she needed soone and didn’t call because she thought I was too wrapped up in my ss of a life?
I bit my lip so hard I almost tasted blood, forcing myself to nod. "Fine. But promise sothing."
Caroline tilted her head, waiting.
"Next ti—no matter what, no matter how bad—don’t shut out. Don’t decide for what I can handle. I’m not that fragile." My voice shook, but I ant every damn word.
For a mont, she just stared at , like she was weighing if she could actually do that. Then she let out a small, broken laugh and whispered, "Okay. I promise."
And that was it. My wall cracked. I leaned forward and hugged her tight, probably tighter than she wanted, but I didn’t care. My throat burned, my nose stung, and I muttered into her hair, "I’m sorry. I should’ve been there."
Caroline didn’t say anything back, but her arms wrapped around , and for once, she let be the strong one.
Caroline wiped her eyes and forced a tiny smile. "Go. I will be fine."
I opened my mouth to argue, but she shook her head firmly. And honestly, I had no strength left to fight her. Hugging her tight, I whispered, "Please text the second you reach ho."
She nodded, but the redness in her eyes made my chest squeeze even harder. Watching her leave felt wrong, like I was abandoning her when she needed most. But the ti flashing on my phone scread otherwise. I had no choice.
Then she left in the cab, leaving alone with my thoughts.
The guilt still chewed up, but sowhere deep inside, a selfish little voice whispered: at least I won’t miss my eting.
I hated that voice, yet I booked another cab for myself.
When the cab finally stopped, I slid inside and leaned back, trying to steady my breathing. Caroline’s broken face wouldn’t leave my mind, and on top of that, the photos with that mysterious blonde haunted .
My gut told it was him. And that hickey...God, that damn hickey...burned in my thoughts.
Still, one step at a ti. First Caroline. Then this ss. And now... Silver Fox.
The city blurred past the window, lights and buildings rging into one. By the ti the cab slowed down, my stomach dropped.
Because right in front of was the sleek, intimidating building of Silver Fox Agency.
If Big Star Agency scread glamour and celebrity sparkle, Silver Fox looked like it belonged in so futuristic movie.
The glass walls reflected the sky so cleanly that for a second I thought I’d walked straight into heaven or maybe hell, depending on how this eting went.
The entrance was wide, tall, and kind of intimidating with these sleek black doors that looked like they could swallow whole.
I paid the driver and stepped out, straightening my blazer like it would magically make confident.
My heart was hamring so fast I thought it might jump out. And of course, my heels clicked like a drum, way too loud for my liking. Everyone was probably staring already.
Great. Perfect first impression.
"Breathe, Ele. Just a eting. Totally normal. You got this," I muttered to myself, which basically sounded like a tiny panic attack.
The glass doors slid open, and cold air hit my face.
The lobby looked insane. Chandeliers hanging like shiny icicles, marble everywhere, and people... dressed like they were born to be in magazines. I swallowed hard. Yep, this was intimidating.
Clutching my bag like it was my life, I walked up to the receptionist. "Uh... hi. I’m here to et... uh... soone from the editorial team? Marian Steele?"
She looked at like I had three heads. Clicked a few buttons. "Elena Kingsley?"
"Yes," I squeaked, feeling like a little kid caught sneaking into a movie.
"Take the elevator to the 12th floor. Soone will et you there."
The 12th floor. Fancy. High. Scary. Perfect.
I nodded quickly and ran to the elevator, trying not to trip over my own heels.
Once inside, I stared at my reflection. Pale, nervous, hair slightly ssy. Yep, total pro.
"Okay Ele, don’t freak out. It’s just a building. Not a lion’s den," I whispered, pressing the 12th floor button.
But honestly? I felt like I was about to face a lion... or a tiger... or maybe a whole pride of lions.
The elevator dinged. Floor 12. Deep breath. Ti to do this.
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