Page 27 of For My Finale

L ilah sat at her kitchen table, staring into the depths of her mug as steam curled into the cool morning air.

She couldn’t bring herself to check the gossip pages, couldn’t bring herself to see what the press had made of last night.

So here she sat, lost in her own thoughts, knowing what she had to do but still seeking a way out of it all, a happy ending for everyone.

She’d promised Blossom no publicity, no chaos. She’d promised herself that she could make this work, that she could be someone else, someone simpler, someone settled. And look what had happened. The press had been waiting outside the cafe like wolves scenting blood.

She should have known better.

But like Ives had once told her, it wasn’t her intentions that mattered, it was her actions.

Her grip tightened on the mug.

She’d been an idiot to think that she could stay hidden here, that she could build a life in Bankton and pretend that she wasn’t Lilah Paxton, the headline magnet, the Hollywood scandal, the walking catastrophe.

She’d been Lilah Paxton for as long as she could remember, who the hell else was she supposed to be?

And she’d been stupid to think that the people in this damn village were starting to warm to her, that she was becoming a part of the fabric of the place. After all, someone had sold her out in the end, just as she’d suspected.

The thought twisted like a knife. She’d let herself believe that she could belong. That was the cruelest joke of all.

Her gaze drifted toward the window, toward the path that led next door. Toward Blossom.

Blossom who had trusted her. Who had looked at her last night with nothing but warmth, who had held her hand beneath the table as though she wanted Lilah to be part of her life.

Blossom who had asked her for nothing, expected nothing.

Blossom who deserved so much better than this mess, better than a life spent dodging flashing cameras and headlines that would twist every look, every touch into a sordid story.

Blossom deserved someone steady. Someone who could protect her, champion her, not someone who would drag her into the center of a media storm.

Lilah let out a slow breath and reached for her phone.

Margot picked up on the second ring. “I knew you’d call.”

“I’ll take it,” Lilah said, closing her eyes, pressing her hand to her head. “I’ll take the Leyland film.”

There was a pause, then Margot exhaled sharply. “Good. You’re making the right choice.”

Lilah didn’t comment on this.

“You need to be in London ASAP,” Margot continued, all business. “I’ll get you checked into The Savoy. There are meetings scheduled already, contracts to sign. You’ll need to get your skates on, darling. I’ll expect you tonight.”

“You’re already there?” Lilah asked.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” said Margot.

Lilah nodded. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

She ended the call and set her phone down on the table, staring at it as if it might provide her with an answer she didn’t want to find.

It was the right choice, the only choice.

She took a deep breath and pushed back from the table. There was just one thing left to do. She had to talk to Blossom.

She walked to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. When she reached it, she hesitated, her fingers hovering over the handle.

She wasn’t ready, but she had to do this.

Finally, she opened the door and stepped outside. Blossom’s cottage was only a few feet away, but today it felt like an ocean stretched between them. Lilah forced herself forward, step by step, until she stood in front of the door.

She raised her hand to knock.

???

Billy was both Blossom’s best and worst confidant.

He was always there, always listening, but he never had any actual answers.

Right now, for example, he was chomping lazily on the carrot she was holding through the kitchen window, his dark eyes blinking at her with a kind of serene indifference. It didn’t help.

“Well?” Blossom asked him, watching as his thick tongue curled around the vegetable and yanked it from her fingers. “What am I supposed to do?”

Billy offered nothing except the crunch of his chewing. Typical.

Blossom sighed, rubbing his nose before withdrawing her hand. The air outside smelled of damp earth and fresh grass, a hint of autumn creeping in with the late summer breeze. It was peaceful. But her head wasn’t.

Last night, Lilah had just… left. She’d made sure that Blossom had got home safely and then said she was tired.

Blossom had let her go. She’d wanted to say something, to reach out, but what could she have said?

Lilah was a private person, much more so than she would have expected for someone who’d spent most of her life in front of a camera.

If she wanted to talk, Blossom knew she’d come to talk.

So she hadn’t pushed. Maybe that had been a mi stake.

She turned away from the window, leaning against the kitchen counter, biting her lip.

The press finding Lilah was a big deal. A huge deal.

She’d seen the fear in Lilah’s eyes, seen the way that Lilah had tried to shield her from what was going on.

But now, hours later, she still didn’t know what to do about it. How to fix it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Her stomach clenched. It could only be Lilah. And even before she opened the door, she knew. She knew that something in the air had shifted, tightened, as if the world was bracing itself for what had to happen next.

Lilah stood on the doorstep.

Blossom’s heart sank at the look on her face, the look of someone who had already decided. The look of someone on their way out. Still, she forced a smile. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Lilah’s voice was soft. Too soft. Blossom could barely hear her.

“Come in.” Blossom stepped aside, and Lilah hesitated for just a fraction of a second before walking past her. The scent of her, all flowers and musk, curled around Blossom as she shut the door.

Lilah stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands in her pockets, gaze flickering over the wooden cabinets, the stained table, the plate of unfinished toast on the counter. Blossom folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, waiting.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Lilah finally said, still not looking at her. “So I’m just going to say it. I’m leaving.”

Even though Blossom had known it was coming, she still felt the words in her bones, felt them in her very soul. Knowing didn’t soften the blow. It landed firm and true, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Lilah kept going, as if she had rehearsed it, which she probably had. “I can’t live a normal life, Blossom. I thought I could. I really wanted to. But I can’t. And it’s not fair to drag you into something like that. ”

Blossom swallowed. “Is that really true?”

Lilah’s jaw tensed. “Yes.” She took a breath. “I’ve been offered a film. With Martin Leyland.”

The words slammed a wall down between them.

Blossom studied Lilah’s face, looking for cracks, looking for something to tell her that this wasn’t happening, that it wasn’t true, that it wasn’t what Lilah wanted to happen. But Lilah was a master of performance, and right now, Blossom honestly couldn’t tell what she wanted and what she didn’t.

“I’ve been an idiot,” Lilah went on, raking a hand through her hair. “Messing around, not living a real life, not doing anything. It’s been a fantasy, Blossom. A beautiful one. But now I have to get back to real life.”

Blossom’s fingers curled into her palms. She wanted to scream at her, to shake her, to tell her that this was all real, that everything they’d shared had been real.

But Lilah had already decided what she was going to do.

She wasn’t going to beg. Besides, who was she to ask Lilah Paxton to stay anywhere?

She had her life to live, too. She had to fight to keep her cafe alive, fight to carve out a place for herself here. She wasn’t going to waste time begging someone to stay when they’d already decided to go.

So she nodded once, even though her throat was burning. “Okay.”

Lilah’s eyes darted up to hers, as if startled by her acceptance. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Blossom said again, forcing a tight smile. “I get it. You have a life to get back to.”

For a second, just a second, something flickered in Lilah’s expression. Regret? Doubt? But it was gone too quickly to catch. Lilah stepped forward, hesitated, then lifted a hand as if she was going to touch Blossom’s arm. But at the last moment, she pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Blossom nodded again, afraid that if she spoke, her voice would break, everything would break, she’d shatter into pieces all over her kitchen floor. She turned slightly, as if to busy herself with something on the counter, giving Lilah an out.

And Lilah took it.

She heard the front door open and then close again.

Blossom exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the counter so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

She had to let her go.

The house felt too quiet, too still. The air was thick with things unsaid. She stared at the empty space where Lilah had been standing.

Billy snorted outside the window.

Blossom let out a short, humorless laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah, what do you know?” She offered him another carrot, which he took gladly, thoroughly unbothered by her heartbreak.

She breathed, just breathed, letting the pain wash over her. Then she straightened her spine. There was work to do, a life to live. She’d had a life before Lilah Paxton. And now she had to have one after her.