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And maybe Hayley is right. Maybe this is divine orchestration. Because what are the chances that they’ll both be in L.A. at the same time? Something twists in my stomach, and I fumble with the radio, taking a deep breath when loud rock music fills the vehicle. As harsh as it sounds, it’s better than the direction my thoughts are starting to take.

Jack’s in the living room when I arrive, lounging on the couch with the TV humming low—some late-morning news rerun or maybe just noise for distraction.

I didn’t expect him to be there, as he’s usually locked in his room or in the background. He doesn’t move when he sees me. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even flinch.

His eyes land on me like I’m a stranger who walked into the wrong house. Cold. Detached.

The whisper of hurt brushes against my chest again, but I swat it away like smoke.

This is business. Strictly professional. That’s if we can even call it a relationship at all.

I step closer, clutching my phone like armor. “I’ve come with a concession,” I say, voice flat. “That is… if you still have the dinner scheduled in L.A. this Friday?”

Jack sits up, arms resting on his knees. “Yeah.”

I nod. “Good. You’ll be meeting Hayley then. In L.A.”

His brow tightens immediately. “Why?”

“She can’t make it to Bardstown until next month,” I reply. “We can’t afford to stall. It’s better to meet her there while you’re already in town.”

He scoffs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“What’s so urgent it has to happen in L.A.?” he demands. “This whole thing started here. In Bardstown. Why can’t it wait till I’m back?”

My spine stiffens. “Because we don’t have the luxury of time, Jack. Your image cleanup is on a schedule. You said it yourself: You want results.”

He shakes his head, jaw ticking. I can see the wheels turning, his brain scrambling for an excuse, something to dodge this.

Then suddenly, he looks up. “Fine. But you’re coming with me.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You want to set this up? Then you’re coming. To L.A.”

“No,” I say immediately, the word firm and final. “That wasn’t the deal.”

Jack stands. “It’s your job to make sure the dates are properly planned. I shouldn’t be the one coordinating or worrying about it.”

“I can plan it from here!” I shoot back. “You don’t need me hovering in the background like some weird romantic chaperone!”

He crosses his arms. “Then this whole thing falls apart. Your call.”

I clench my fists, frustration boiling. “You are impossible, Jack.”

He shrugs, walking past me toward the hallway like he’s already done with the conversation. I don’t wait for anything else. I storm out, the door slamming harder than I mean it to.

I don’t care about him. Let him figure it out.

I’m halfway to the shop, still gripping the steering wheel like I might snap it in two, when my phone buzzes on the passenger seat.

Nova.

I answer with a clipped, “Hi.”

“Mia,” she breathes, “I just got off the phone with Jack. He told me what happened.”