Page 74 of The Love Bus

Just a few months ago, I’d been planning to spend the rest of my life with this man.

But the truth? We never talked about weddings or kids or a future. Leo hadn’t wanted a partner—he’d wanted a brand. Syndication, audience growth, sponsorships.

And I’d let him.

The jealousy and grief I’d carried were gone, burned away by something steadier—hotter.

A quiet, righteous anger.

He hadn’t just gaslit me about our relationship. He’d tried to rewrite the story for everyone else, too.

But I wasn’t sad anymore. I didn’t have a single what-if.

And in that moment, with everything so sharply clear, I almost laughed.

I hadn’t been in love with Leo for a long time.

I’d loved the idea of him . Of us. A powerhouse couple that would prove to the world that I could be somebody.

Oh my God! Wait…no.

It clicked in my head then, a missing piece that I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing.

I’d loved the idea that…with him, I thought I could be the type of person my mom would be proud of. I’d believed that being with Leo could make me into the right type of person.

Someone professional. Someone significant. Poised.

But that had not been love.

After being with Noah—even for such a short, uncertain but truly beautiful time—I understood the difference.

If I'd ever needed closure, I didn’t anymore.

There was nothing left to close.

Mallory settled next to me, one leg crossed over the other, looking confident. Relaxed, but also alert. I kept both feet on the floor. Guarded. Braced for battle.

“We’d like to begin with a formal apology.

” Marsha folded her hands on the table. “Our initial determination, based on internal documentation and a subsequently deleted social media post, led us to conclude that you had breached the termination provisions outlined in your contract with the station.” She paused. “That was incorrect.”

I blinked. I knew all that, but I kept my face neutral.

“We have since reviewed new evidence,” she continued, nodding toward a thick stack of papers the station’s attorney slid across the table.

Evidence I had gathered—testimonies from the tour bus.

Marla.

Josie.

Tay.

Joe.

Even Ed.

People who’d seen me—seen Noah and me. People who'd confirmed the truth: that whatever happened between us had started after embarking on the trip.

“In order to avoid full litigation, Mr. Dunlap will not deny that he made unauthorized modifications to your contract. He has also admitted that certain statements he made—both internally and publicly—may constitute defamatory claims regarding your conduct, resulting in reputational harm and constituting a breach of his contractual obligations.”

Across the table, Leo shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes completely.

Coward.

“These,” the attorney said, tapping the papers, “include your submitted evidence, as well as the station’s internal findings.”

Mallory’s hand brushed mine under the table—a silent, steadying reminder that we’d brought receipts.

Marsha’s voice softened slightly. “Accordingly, the station has terminated all contracts with Mr. Dunlap. Effective immediately. He is no longer affiliated with our programming and, going forward, will be barred from entering the premises.”

Barred from…? Leo…?

“Wait,” I said, my throat dry. “So, the show?—?”

“Has been pulled entirely,” Marsha said. “We’ll be rebranding the timeslot.”

My show.

It wouldn’t go on without me. Oddly, I felt relief along with the sadness.

I wouldn’t have to watch him and Kensi flirting in my kitchen anymore, using my ingredients, my recipes, my favorite saucepan, my herbs.

It was over.

Done.

“What about all that stuff you posted about me?” I directed this question at Leo.

“The defamatory content has been removed.” Mr. Miller answered for him.

“And we’ve prepared a public clarification that will run this week,” the station manager added. “It is obviously best for everyone concerned to refrain from going public with additional details, so the station is willing to offer you a settlement.”

The station attorney slid a second document toward me.

I glanced over at Mallory, who didn’t look at all surprised, and in fact, might have had something of a smug smile dancing around her mouth.

And then I glanced down at the number. Nine, followed by…

One two three four… five zeros?

Wow.

I knew there had been contract violations, but I had not expected this. Mallory had hinted there might be some sort of offer, but I’d just hoped to get away without owing anything.

And although it could never erase everything, it was solid proof that the fault for everything that happened couldn’t all be laid on me.

“We should be clear,” the attorney said.

“Acceptance of this settlement would release the station from all liability from harm to reputation or otherwise. However”—she flicked a glance toward Leo—“it only pertains to the posts Mr. Dunlap made under the station’s umbrella.

You are free to pursue independent legal action against him should you choose. ”

Mallory and I exchanged a glance.

We both knew exactly what this meant.

I wasn’t just surviving this. I was winning.

And as for Leo? No. I didn’t need anything from him. Not a confrontation. Not an apology. Not anymore.

My value didn’t hinge on anyone else.

Because ultimately, what I gained was something I hadn’t even realized I’d been missing.

My freedom.

I was finally standing on my own two feet again.

As I shifted in my chair, I glanced down and wiggled my toes. The worn leather straps of my sandals hugged my feet, repaired, sturdy, back to me thanks to someone who’d seen my worth before I was ready to see it myself.

Even though things hadn’t worked out the way I once hoped, that didn’t mean I’d been foolish.

I’d lived.

I’d risked.

And now?

I was ready to build something real—this time, for me.