Chapter 30: THE RESPONSE

~Anna's POV

\---

I've been awake since 5 AM, checking my phone for a text that won't come.

Mark still hasn't responded. Guess he's still mad at me, gosh Anna what have you done.

And tonight, I have a date with Jamal Santos.

Daisy came into room, normal Daisy's routine always bringing the coffee. She's already dressed, hair in that messy bun that somehow looks intentional.

"What's wrong babe." She hands me a mug and sits on the edge of my bed. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not really."

"Nervous about tonight?"

I nod, grateful she understands without me having to explain.

"It's okay to be nervous," Daisy says. "But Anna, be honest with yourself. Are you interested in Jamal? Or are you trying to prove you can move on?"

I don't have a good answer.

"If you go out with him, there will be photos by morning," Daisy continues. "He's TMZ famous. And if people see you together, James might see it too."

The name lands like a punch.

"James made his choice," I say quietly. "What he sees doesn't matter anymore."

Daisy gives me a look that says she knows I'm lying, but she doesn't push. "Anna I know you well. Don't do this to prove something. Do it for you."

Her phone rings. She glances at the screen and her whole face softens.

"I need to take this," she says, already heading to her room.

Through the wall, I hear her laugh, soft, shy, completely unlike her.

Daisy has a secret.

\---

After Daisy leaves, an email notification appears.

From:[email protected]

Subject: Interview Request - Anna Chen

Particularly interested in your unique journey—being raised by your father's business partner...

I Google her name. Jennifer Hayes. Twenty-year veteran. Specializes in celebrity exposés.

She doesn't want to write about my performance. She wants to write about James.

I close the email without responding.

Focus on tonight.

\---

By 6 PM, I'm standing in front of my clothes. Navy dress. Daisy's silver earrings.

I reach for the star necklace. Try to take it off.

Can't.

I tuck it under the dress instead.

In the mirror, I look almost normal. Like someone going on a first date, not someone whose life is barely held together.

I grab my keys and head downstairs.

\---

A black sedan idles across the street as I unlock my car. Engine running, windows tinted.

I've seen it before. Haven't I?

I pull out. The sedan follows three cars back.

Coincidence, I tell myself.

\---

Salvatore's is all old money—valet parking, red leather, Edison lighting.

The maître d' leads me through the restaurant. "Mr. Santos is at his usual table."

Jamal stands when he sees me, face brightening.

"You came."

"You sound surprised."

"Hopeful," he says. "There's a difference."

\---

We sit. Jamal orders wine; I ask for water.

"You look stunning" he said.

"Thanks."

“Are you nervous”

“Yes”

"Good. Me too." He leans back, studying me. "I'm good at hiding it. Comes with the job, step into the ring, you can't show fear even when you're terrified."

"And you're terrified of dinner with me?"

"Terrified of fucking this up." His honesty catches me off guard. "I don't usually feel this way about someone I just met."

The air between us shifts.

Something about him feels different, and warm.

"So," Jamal says. "Mark. Your boyfriend who isn't your boyfriend."

My face burns. "I owe you an apology for that."

"You already apologized when you agreed to dinner." He sips his wine. "But I want to know, is he upset because you lied? Or because he wanted it to be true?"

"Both, I think."

Jamal nods. "Then he has good taste. Can't blame him for that."

"I hurt him."

"Yeah. You did." He doesn't sugarcoat it. "But you're here now. Being honest. That counts for something."

The waiter brings our food. The conversation shifts.

"Tell me about Anna Chen," Jamal says. "Not the actress. Just you."

I don't know how to answer that.

"What makes you happy?" he prompts.

"I don't know anymore. Theater used to. But now it's complicated."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know if I'm good because I'm talented, or because my step dad raised me and has connections and—" I stop. "Sorry."

"Did he get you that role?"

"No. I auditioned like everyone else."

"Then you earned it." He says it like it's simple. "Who gave you the opportunity doesn't matter if you're the one who delivered. And you did. I was there."

Something tight in my chest loosens.

"What about you?" I ask. "What makes you happy?"

"Winning. And good food. And women who challenge me."

"I'm challenging you?"

"You lied to my face within thirty seconds of meeting me, then agreed to dinner anyway, then actually showed up. Yeah, you're challenging me."

I laugh despite myself.

"I like that," he says, voice softer. "Your laugh. You should do it more."

\---

"Family's complicated for you," Jamal observes. "I get that. Mine too."

"Big family?"

"Huge. Competitive. Everyone's got an agenda." He twirls his fork through quinoa and roasted vegetables. "My parents wanted me to go into the family business. I wanted to fight. Took years before they accepted it."

"Do they accept it now?"

"They accept the money and the fame. That's close enough."

I understand that, being valued for what you provide, not who you are.

"What about your family?" he asks.

"My dad died when I was seven. My mom left. Stepdad raised me."

"That's a lot for a kid."

"Yeah."

He doesn't push for more. I appreciate that.

\---

"So what do you want, Anna?" Jamal asks. "From life. From tonight. From me."

The question is so direct it takes my breath away.

"I don't know. I'm trying to figure that out."

"Fair enough." He reaches across the table, his hand stopping just short of mine. Not touching. Waiting. "I'll tell you what I want. I want to get to know you. No games. No bullshit. Just see where this goes."

"I'm not ready for a relationship."

"I'm not asking for one." His eyes are steady. "I'm asking for honesty. And time. Can you give me that?"

I look at his hand. Still waiting for permission.

I close the distance. Our fingers intertwine.

"Yeah," I say. "I can give you that."

\---

We finish dinner slowly. When we finally leave, I catch movement, someone with a phone, camera pointed our direction.

Jamal notices. "Happens all the time. Just ignore them."

My stomach twists anyway.

The valet brings my car. Jamal walks me to it.

"Text me when you get home safe," he says.

"I will."

"And Anna?" He waits until I look at him. "Thank you for giving this a chance."

I don't know what to say, so I just nod.

In my rearview mirror, Jamal stands on the sidewalk, watching until I turn the corner.

And I sighted a black sedan following.

\---

My phone buzzes as I pull up to Daisy's.

Instagram notification. Someone tagged me in a photo, me and Jamal leaving Salvatore's, his hand at my back.

@SalvatoresRegular: "MMA champ Jamal Santos on a date"

A text appears.

Mark: Anna, I don't care about what you did yesterday, and yeah I saw your picture with Jamal, just wanted to make sure you are happy.

My chest tightens.

Then a DM.

@jennifer.hayes.ew: Would love to talk about your unique relationship with James Reynolds. Available for a call this week?

I lock my phone and look out the window.

Across the street, a black sedan idles in the darkness. Engine running.

My life is about to get a lot more complicated.

\---