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CHAPTER 71

Alana

My apartment is chaos .

Half-packed suitcases, a spilled coffee, Salem watching me like I’ve personally ruined his life.

I’m trying to zip up my carry-on while throwing skincare into my toiletry bag.

And then Tessa barges through the front door.

She’s already sniffling when she walks in.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I groan, smiling.

“Tessa. No tears.”

She snorts, wiping the corner of her eye with a perfectly manicured finger.

“I’m not crying because I’ll miss you,” she says, tossing her bag on the couch.

“I’m crying because I’m the idiot who agreed to look after your bastard of a cat for a week. Or more!”

I glance at Salem, who is now lounging dramatically across my open suitcase like he’s doing me a favour.

“Yeah, well, he only bites people he doesn’t like,” I say.

“Great. He hates me, we all know that.”

She pulls something from her coat pocket and waves it in the air.

“Also, this was taped to your door, by the way.”

I take it from her.

It’s a letter. No return address.

Just my name.

“You gonna open it?” she asks.

I look down at my watch.

“Not now. I’m already behind. Dad wants wheels up in an hour.”

Her eyes widen.

“He’s going with you?”

“Just for a day or two. He says he needs to check in on his Manhattan clients. But really, I think he just wants to keep an eye on me.” I drop the letter into my Dior tote bag tucking it between a notebook and my favourite sunglasses.

“You’re not even curious?” she asks.

“I’ll read it on the plane,” I say, already turning back to finish packing.

“Probably just another influencer’s press kit.”

Tessa hums, unconvinced, but lets it go.

I close my last suitcase with a satisfying click and crouch down to scoop Salem into my arms. He lets out a soft protest but doesn’t resist. I press my face into his fur, holding him tighter than I probably should.

“Be good,” I whisper, even though we both know he won’t be.

I set him down gently and he immediately trots over to sulk beneath the coffee table like I’ve betrayed him.

Tessa grabs her keys, hoisting her bag over her shoulder.

“Ready to hit the strip?”

I nod.

Maybe I just need to get on the plane.

To get out of this apartment.

Out of this city. Out of my own head.

Just a little distance. Enough to breathe.