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“You’ve outdone yourself,” Hunter says, shaking my hand. “This event is incredible.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling. “But it’s your organization that makes the real difference. I’m just happy to be part of it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Rebel says, her eyes sparkling. “The food is phenomenal. Everyone is raving about it.”
“Really?” I ask, my cheeks flushing with pride.
“Absolutely,” Rebel insists. “And the dessert? That chocolate mousse tart? I’m considering sneaking an extra one to take home to our twins.”
I laugh, the warmth of their praise easing some of the tension in my chest.
“We couldn’t have done this without you,” Hunter says. “Paige has already mentioned how seamless everything has been from your end. I know you’ve had a lot going on, but you’ve handled it beautifully.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” I say, meaning it. The MAD program is something I believe in deeply, and working with Hunter and his team has been inspiring. Their dedication to helping single mothers find meaningful work and advance in their careers is nothing short of extraordinary.
“We’ll let you get back to it,” Rebel says, giving my arm a light squeeze. “But don’t forget to take a moment to enjoy your own success.”
“I’ll try,” I promise, watching them disappear into the crowd.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of service and smiles. The food is perfect, the auction successful, and Hunter’s speech about MAD’s mission brings tears to every eye in the house.
“We’ve raised over one hundred thousand dollars!” Rebel announces near the end of the night. “Thanks to everyone’s generosity, especially our amazing staff and team...”
The applause washes over me as we stand there, and I force a smile. I glance up and see James Harrison approach me, looking very suave in his black tux.
“Lila, I knew you had to be the chef behind that incredible food.”
“Thank you, James,” I reply, feeling a twinge of guilt that I’ve been avoiding him.
“I’ll have to give you a call. There are some social events I’ve been invited to. Perfect opportunity for me to introduce you around.”
I give him a hesitant smile, not wanting to commit. “Thank you—“
But before I can finish, I’m called away by one of the staff. I hope my relief didn’t show on my face, as James has been nothing but kind to me. It’s not his fault he’s not Luke.
The evening winds down in a blur of smiles, handshakes, and compliments. When the last guest leaves, my feet are aching, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. Jenny and I are in the kitchen preparing to leave when Emily and Kendrick find me.
“You killed it tonight,” Emily says, pulling me intoa hug.
“I agree,” Kendrick adds, her eyes warm. “This was flawless, Lila. You should be proud.”
“Thanks,” I say, managing a smile.
They exchange a look, one of those silent conversations I can’t quite decipher before Emily states quietly. “Well, when you’re ready to talk, you know where to find us.”
“Thank you, that means a lot,” I say softly.
Once I get home, it’s well past midnight. As I step on the front porch, I notice there are no lights on next door. The apartment feels quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like it’s pressing down on me. I kick off my heels and collapse onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the evening replays in my mind.
It was a perfect event—everything I worked so hard to achieve. But the hollow ache in my chest won’t go away.
I want to share this with Luke. I want to hear his voice and see how his eyes light up when he smiles. But he’s not here, and I can’t let myself hope for something that feels so out of reach.
With a sigh, I pull out my phone and scroll through the photos from the gala, pausing on one of Hunter and Rebel onstage, their arms raised in triumph. This is what I need to focus on—the good I’m doing, the work that matters.
But even as I tell myself that, the ache doesn’t fade.
Suddenly, I see a dark figure on the deck. My pulse leaps as I see a flash of blonde hair and Luke’s broad shoulders. Without turning on the lights, I walk over to the sliding glass doors, unlock them, and slide them open.