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Chapter Text

February 2025

Los Angeles, California

“And the Grammy for Song of the Year goes to…Too Sweet by Hozier!”

The chorus played over the sound of thousands of star-studded celebrities and fans alike rising to their feet in congratulatory applause. Andrew’s eyes widened, brows furrowing as shock and realization hit his senses at once. He tried to wipe the bewilderment from his face as a camera zoomed in on his right and, to his left, his team patted him on the back and hollered praises to him. Several kisses were pecked on his cheek before he turned to kiss Carmen. She wiped her lipstick from his lips with a smile that spread from ear to ear.

He floated to the stage. Someone might’ve taken his hand and squeezed it. Another one might’ve patted his back. There was a hug somewhere in there too. A flashing of lights. Sounds that were both overwhelming and indiscernible. Then, the award was in his hand. A shimmering, gilded gramophone. His name was engraved in black, bolded letters on the plaque. The trophy was smaller than he thought it would be, but heavier than he expected. And it was his. Ten years it took but it was finally his. He looked into the near-blinding lights of the stadium, framed by cameras with red blinking lights. Underneath it all, he could just barely make out the outline of the audience.

“Ehm,” he tried, a nervous laugh breaking the words from his mouth. Clearing throat, he tried again. “Wow. I—thank you. Thank you so much. What an incredible honor and privilege it is to be on this stage, winning this award tonight. I’d like to thank my team, my manager—Gary. Daniel who helped write it, Alex Ryan and Ryan Connors—not only the bassist and drummer who play on this record but also my best mates. I’d like to thank my incredible fans who have supported me throughout the years. My family that I love dearly. And lastly, most importantly, I’d like to thank my beautiful and amazing wife. I dedicate this award to you, love.”

He held it up for the audience to see, but their attention had turned from him. Instead, all eyes and heads of the arena turned to face the spot in the audience Andrew had just vacated. Even the cameras blinked their lights directly at Carmen, who was giving her best performance in not looking like she was in the midst of a heart-stopping panic attack. She clapped for him as he was escorted off the stage, but the cameras only zoomed in on her. The Jumbotron screen didn’t show Andrew walking away with one of the biggest awards of the night. No, instead that screen, as well as millions of screens around the world tuned into the biggest night of music, showed a crystal clear image of the diamond on Carmen’s ring finger. She winced at the sight. A singular thought echoed through her mind:

Cat’s out.

Chapter Text

June 2024

New York City, New York

The car gradually slowed to a stop, the loose gravel of the driveway crunching under its tires. Andrew stared at the red brick of the house towering over them. A bright blue sky framed the estate without a single cloud obstructing the sun’s warm glow. The smell of freshly cut grass wafted through the sunroof of the car. Behind one of the white-paneled windows on the second floor, a curtain fluttered. Someone poked their head in the glass, but disappeared before Andrew could get a good view of their face. He gulped and averted his gaze from the imposing estate to focus on the black leather of the dashboard.

For the fourth time that ride, he lowered the sun visor to check his hair in the small rectangular mirror. He looked well enough. His white dress shirt had been pressed and dry cleaned, black slacks ironed, and boots shined. It was the cleanest he’d dressed in a while, but he’d insisted on it. First impressions were crucial. His hair was loose, still curly from the mousse and products he spent extra time running through his hair that morning. It wouldn’t last until the show, that he knew for sure. But it would get him through this. 

“Andy,” Carmen’s voice called like an echo coming through an endless tunnel. The driver’s seat felt miles away from his passenger side. She looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed. Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth. “Are you okay?”

Of course he wasn’t. How could he be? But he couldn’t tell her that. Not now anyway. He simply looked from her to the stately home casting its dark shadow over them. The curtains fluttered again, a flash of something pastel pink, then all was still again. Carmen’s hand slipped between his and he noticed, not for the first time that day, that he’d been rubbing his thumb across his palm. The friction made the padding of his finger sting and palm burn with a bright red line following the path of his rubbing. It was a better alternative to them shaking relentlessly, easier to hide and didn’t make him look like a chihuahua feigning for a fix. He gave Carmen’s hand a gentle squeeze, attempting to compose himself.

“They’re going to love you,” she assured for the hundredth time that day. His nod was not one of agreement, but one of hope. “Trust me.”

“I do,” he promised. And he did, but that didn’t mean he believed her. For good measure, he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed them softly.

She smiled at him. His heart swelled. Seven months on the road had grown out her hair several inches. It was all piled on top of her head in a calculated messy bun. A few of her curls fell from the hair tie to frame her face and neck. The same sun that left his skin an angry pink deepened her sepia tone to a rich, warm shade that reminded him of Irish coffee. His eyes greedily drank her in. She’d opted to dress more casually than Andrew, wearing a pair of dark denim jeans and white t-shirt. They looked as if they were attending two very different events: Andrew a cocktail party and Carmen a picnic. He supposed it was only right that she didn’t feel the need to dress up. It was her family they were meeting, after all.

“Auntie Carmie!” a small voice called the moment they stepped onto the driveway.

In a flash, a young girl had sprinted from the front door of the house right into Carmen’s arms. Her eyes widened and she stumbled backwards. Panic clawed at her lungs and chest, but she forced herself to slow down. One deep breath, hold, slow release — the grounding technique her therapist drilled into her for months. She tightened her embrace on the small child, commenting on how big she’d gotten and how much she’d missed her. A year ago, a hug like this would have been unimaginable. Tears burned her eyes from the effort and relief of her progress.

At the door, a woman waited with crossed arms, laughing at the little girl’s enthusiasm. She looked like Carmen, only older. Her hair was bone straight and accented with brown highlights. A sundress clung to her body, and she hugged a cardigan around herself to hide it. The pastel pink of the little girl’s onesie was the same shade Andrew had seen at the window. Carmen carried her on her lip, her long legs dangling. Andrew followed close behind. His lips tightened into the best rendition of a smile he could muster amongst his storm of anxiety. She set the girl down on the front porch in front of the woman who promptly scooped her up again. The woman draped her free arm around Carmen and brought her in for a short hug.

“Anais, this is Andrew,” she introduced, turning to him. “Andrew, this is my sister, Anais.”

Her smile was dazzling – clearly a family trait – and she extended her hand out to him. He shook it and hoped his palms weren’t as sweaty as he felt. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Andrew. Our Carmie’s told us so much about you.” She motioned to the child on her hip, who watched him with unabashed curiosity as she sucked on her thumb. “This is Peyton. You’ll have to excuse her, she doesn’t do well with strangers.”

“No worries,” he assured, already having more in common with the two-year-old.

Anais motioned for them to follow inside with a wave. Andrew marveled at the spiraling staircase and ducked under the dangling chandelier as they passed through the foyer. While he wasn’t expecting Carmen’s sister to live in a shed, he certainly hadn’t expected this. Carmen lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan. The entirety of her place could fit in the foyer and dining room. Anais flitted past it with the casual gait of someone used to being surrounded by such classic elegance.

Down a hallway adorned with family photos and gilded art pieces, they entered a cozy space Anaïs affectionately called the "sun room." A brick fireplace commanded the center of the far wall, opposite the arched entryway. The surrounding walls were lined with windows, flooding the room with golden sunlight. In front of the fireplace, three plush couches—black leather with deep red cushions—formed an inviting seating area. On the couches, two men were engrossed in a card game, too focused to notice their arrival. Carmen’s eyes lit up as she spotted them, and a sudden gasp escaped her, drawing their attention.

“Adrian!” she cheered, hurrying around the couch to where he now stood with open arms. He engulfed her in an embrace that was too comforting, too missed to strike panic. “I don’t know you would be here! Anais never told me–”

“Heard you were back in town and thought I’d come see for myself,” he laughed, pulling away to gaze at her. His deep brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight. “Now, where is this big shot that’s got my little sis so busy she can’t even answer the phone?”

“Behave,” Anais warned with a laugh.

Andrew stepped forward, smiling sheepishly. He resisted the urge to touch his hair as he offered his hand. “I guess that would be me. It’s good to meet you.”

Adrian’s grip tightened on Andrew’s hand, making his knuckles and palm scream at the sudden pressure. Still, he didn’t pull away. Adrian sized him up, eyes taking him in slowly. “Fuck, you’re taller than I though. Hoosier, right?”

“Ehm, Hozier, yeah,” he corrected gently. His eyes met Carmen’s for a moment. She nodded reassuringly, and he added, “But Andrew’s fine too.”

“Alright then, Andrew,” Adrian nodded, letting his hand go. Andrew promptly shoved his into his pocket, stifling a sigh of relief. “I was listening to some of your music on the way here. I’ve gotta say that Too Sweet song’s catchy as hell. Couldn’t get it out of my head for days.”

Andrew smiled, thanking him. Carmen led him over to the one couch that hadn’t already been occupied. She motioned towards the other man still sitting on the couches. With his smooth dark skin and easy smile, he looked nothing like Anais or Adrian. Andrew hesitated to shake his hand, listened as Carmen explained he was Anais’s husband, James.

“Ah, you’re the ‘Take Me To Church’ guy!” He wagged his finger at Andrew, when he’d introduced himself. Anais poured all of them a glass of water from the tray on the coffee table before settling down herself in the arms of her husband. “Did Carmen tell you Cherry Wine was our wedding song?”

Andrew winced and glanced  over at Carmen. She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. He chuckled, “Ehm, no she didn’t, but—but that’s ehm great!”

“Beautiful song. Love it,” Anais complimented and all Andrew could do was nod.

Hurrying to change the subject, Carmen chimed in, “Where’s Leon then?”

“Couldn’t make it,” Anais shrugged. Peyton came running down the hall straight into her mother’s lap. A soft smile fell on Carmen’s face, though her heart sank at the news. “He sends his love though, and made me promise to make you stop by his next. He wants to meet Hozier—Andrew, sorry.”

James chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t we all?” Carmen’s hand slipped into Andrew’s, breaking his thumb from its path across his palm. “So, Andrew, how’d you two meet?”

“We—ehm—met through work, actually,” Andrew answered. He recalled that day in the cafe like it was yesterday. It was early for a lunch appointment. Andrew was severely hungover, jet lagged, and running from the shadows of Iris. Then, she walked in — a beacon of light. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards her.

“Nah man,” Adrian butted in, sitting on the edge of his seat. He wore hey smile of mischief and an air about him that screamed troublemaker. “The real question is: how did you get our baby sister to even give you the time of day? I mean it took Danny— what like— two years just to get your number? The man was persistent.”

“Oh yeah!” Anais laughed. “Dad nearly had to chase him off with a shotgun. Remember Carmie? When he—“

“Yes when he came to the house with a boombox trying to be 90s cool,” Carmen finished dryly, rolling her eyes like she’d heard the story a million times before. Yet, she couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at her lips, the memory of that night playing vividly in her mind.

She was visiting home from university, having ducked him all semester. Danny was cute, funny, and her only friend from home. It was the perfect set up for a college fling, but she was insistent on her focus being only on her studies. Though her dad chased him off, Carmen found it sweet. She couldn’t help falling for him. They spent New Year’s Eve toasting to the coming year and the blossoming of a new relationship.

Andrew raised his eyebrows, looking over at Carmen with an incredulous expression. “He did what?”

“It was Christmas Eve. The guy stood outside Carmie’s room blasting ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’. Woke up damn near half the neighborhood,” Adrian hurried to explain when Carmen stammered. 

“And the best part is— it worked!” James finished as he laughed heartily. “I had to write that down for future use, ‘cause shit that was smooth. Stupid, but smooth.” Anais giggled, swatting her husband’s chest.

Carmen rolled her eyes, groaning, “Well, Andrew did none of that nonsense. It just kind of happened. I don’t know.”

Andrew’s thumb ran across her knuckles again. She wanted to lean into the small touch, to savor its warmth and familiarity. Anais reached for her glass of water, pulling a pillow to her lap as she brought her feet up onto the couch. Andrew noted how James looked at her then. Like they were the only two in the room. With his eyes, he made Andrew almost feel like he was intruding on something. Absently, he wondered if that’s how everyone else felt when he was with Carmen.

The conversation flowed easily. The longer they stayed, the more at ease Andrew felt. Anais was warm, maternal, and soft. Everything about her was elegant, but had the edge of someone who would raise hell if ever crossed. Adrian was the opposite; his jokes got more vulgar the longer he spoke. Anais reminded him that Peyton could hear him after almost every line he uttered. He teased Carmen and matched her wit, something that Andrew had never seen before and obviously frustrated Carmen to no end. James fit perfectly in the middle of the two — friendly and welcoming, while also bitingly funny and quick with his retorts. Andrew found himself chatting with them like they were all old friends.

Halfway through a conversation about how Carmen had to wear a head brace for a year to go with her braces in middle school, her phone rang. Carmen let out an exaggerated sigh of relief before excusing herself to answer. She stepped into the hallway. Their muffled laughter still traveled through the walls. She rolled her eyes, putting a finger to her ear as she pressed the phone to the other.

“Hello?” she answered and Tyler’s voice came loud through the receiver.

“Minnieeee!” he squeaked, nearly deafening her. “I heard you were back in town!”

“Yeah, Andy’s got a round of shows here,” she explained. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to cut your little sabbatical short, babes, but I need you to come in—today, if possible,” he said quickly, as if the speed of his words would soften their blow.

Carmen gripped her phone, heart sinking as she glanced over her shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

Tyler hummed. She could hear the splash of coffee being poured. “Oh yeah yeah! Everything’s fine. I just need you here for a little chat. No biggie.”

If her heart had sunk before, now it felt like it had stopped entirely. She could feel the blood freeze in her veins, her lungs seize mid-inhale, her bones turn weak. A little chat. The last time they’d had one of those, it had ended with her coming face-to-face with Jack again—what fresh horror could he possibly have in store now?

Her mind raced through the past seven months. He had respected her wishes, never contacting her during her leave of absence, not even about work. She’d needed a break, needed time away, and he had given her that. There had been moments when he probably should have broken that silence—a few PR crises that would have been avoided if she’d been there—but he had still kept his distance. So why now? The question consumed her.Had something slipped through the cracks? Or had Jack… No. She couldn’t go there.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts, to apply the rational techniques her therapist had taught her. “What will this chat be about?” she asked, trying to loosen the tightness in her voice.

She could almost hear him shrug. “Oh, nothing about a client or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She stifled a sigh of relief, but Tyler continued, “I want to talk about you—about us! And your future here at Nova.”

Breathe. That’s what her therapist would tell her to do. But her therapist wasn’t here, wasn’t facing the prospect of her job being on the line, and was booked out for months anyway. Still, Carmen forced herself to take a breath, using it to assure Tyler she’d be there in an hour.

The moment she hung up, she sagged against the wall, the air leaving her like a punctured balloon. She clenched her jaw, trying not to chew on her lip, trying to hold herself together.

“You good?” Adrian’s voice asked gently, startling her.

She rubbed the back of her neck and tried to smile. “Yeah—yeah, I’ve just gotta run to the office real quick.” The moment the words left her mouth, her eyes widened. “Fuck, Andy’s gotta get back to Forest Hills. He’s got a show.”

Adrian patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, little sis. I can give Too Sweet in there a ride. Gotta pass there anyway to get to Javier’s anyway.”

Carmen raised her eyebrow. “Javier? Again?” Before she could get too deep in a conversation she knew would take far too long, she shook her head, holding up her hands. “Another time, you sure it’s okay?”

Adrian shrugged. His smirk made her nervous. “For sure. I don’t think I’ve scared him enough, might need a bit more time.”

Before she could respond, Adrian turned on his heels and headed back towards the lounge with Carmen racing behind him.. He furrowed his eyebrows at her, his smile fading to a grim line of concern. She questioned if she was really that easy to read. Adrian bowed to the room in a flair of dramatics before turning to face Andrew.

“It would seem I am playing the role of chauffeur tonight,” he announced. Andrew looked from Carmen to him, “and if we are to beat rush-hour, we should probably get going now.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Andrew pursed his lips. The palms of his hands suddenly felt slick. He rubbed them down his pants leg and cleared his throat. “Everything alright?”

The way he asked, the tenderness in his tone, made her knees go weak. She wanted to crawl into his lap and let him hold her like he had nearly every day for the past seven months. Doing so would surely result in it becoming another embarrassing family anecdote to tell over drinks and dinner. Anais’s knowing smirk as she glanced between the two of them confirmed that to be true. Instead, Carmen nodded, taking his hand as he stood. “Yeah, just need to run into Nova. I’ll try to make it for the show.”

He pursed his lips. “I thought you took—“

“A vacation, yes,” she sighed, glancing at her siblings. They didn’t know the whole truth…not yet. Maybe not ever. A few months of weekly therapy sessions still hadn’t made her quite ready to explain the last year and a half to her family. Seeming to understand this, he squeezed her hand gently and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “But there’s been an emergency. Tyler said he wants to have a little chat.”

“Oh.” Andrew ran a hand through his hair. Those two stupid little words that never failed to trigger her anxiety. He knew there would be arguing about the logic of the decision. Her mind wouldn’t be at ease until she knew what the talk was about. He turned to Adrian with a sheepish grin. “Would it…be okay?”

He swept his keys from the coffee table, tossing them in the air before catching them with one hand. “Throw in two backstage passes and pit tickets and I won’t even charge you for gas.”

Andrew laughed, shaking his head. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

They had not, in fact, beat traffic. Andrew watched the cars inch forward ceaselessly, thumb tracing the lines on his palm. They’d said their goodbyes to everyone fairly quickly. James asked Andrew to autograph his copy of the first record. He obliged, jokingly making him promise to fetch a good price for it on eBay. Anais hugged him and Peyton even chanced a high-five. Carmen had raced out of the door before she could witness any of it. He half-thought to apologize for her rush, but they hadn’t seemed to be bothered. They were her siblings after all. This was probably not the first time she’d let work drive her away from something important. Andrew had laughed when Adrian suggested it was something they could all bond over – their collective neglect. Carmen texted him shortly afterwards apologizing for her haste. 

The car slowed to yet another stop and Andrew’s gaze slipped to the clock on the car’s dashboard. The doors for the stadium were scheduled to open in three hours. He had complained about the early morning sound check and tried to come up with every excuse to get himself out of it. It took the combined effort of Gary, Carmen, and Alex to get him out of bed, but he found himself glad that they hadn’t indulged in him wanting to sleep in. Relief crept through the anxiety, keeping the ripples from becoming waves. Adrian followed Andrew’s gaze.

“We’re gonna make it,” he promised, shaking his head. He turned down the music. The blasting 90’s R&B had left a gnawing ringing in Andrew’s ear that could still be heard ringing under Mariah Carey’s falsettos. Over the ringing, he could just make out Adrian saying, “Don’t worry.”

Andrew said nothing, absently wondering if anyone had ever stopped worrying simply because someone told them not to. His palm started to sting under his rubbing thumb. The absence of music left a vacuum of silence that the humming of the idled car couldn’t fill. Adrian cleared his throat, glancing over at Andrew once more before asking, “Carmen mentioned y’all being here all week. This your only show in the city or you’ve got more planned?”

“Four shows all at Forest Hills,” he replied, already feeling the ache in his arms and throat.

“In a week?” Adrian whistled. “God, man, I see why you and her get along. Work, work, work, work. Don’t you ever get a break?”

He chuckled, “Ehm, yeah actually. We’re supposed to have two weeks off or somethin’ like that.”

“Oh yeah? Any plans?” Adrian raised his eyebrow. The car turned down a narrow alley where shadows stretched further than the streetlights could touch. Under his thumb, Andrew could almost feel his pulse pick up the pace.

“We were planning to head back to Ireland for a bit,” Andrew began, his voice soft, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. “It’s been hectic on the road, y’know? Thought it’d be nice to take things slow for once.” The unspoken truth sat heavy on his tongue, like a stone he couldn’t swallow. Adrian navigated onto another side street, where the buildings looked ready to crumble with the next strong wind. Groups of people stood on stoops and corners, their eyes following the car like silent sentinels. Andrew swallowed hard, the rising pulse in his throat silencing what he wanted to say.

Adrian’s easy laugh broke through the tension. “Take it easy? Can’t picture that! Carmen’s never been one to slow down. When the rest of us moved out of the city, she dove deeper in. Pops used to call her his little Duracell bunny—always going and going.” 

A reluctant smile crept onto Andrew’s face. He could see it: a younger Carmen, full of fire, buzzing around her family home, a blur of boundless energy and ambition. The girl he’d only glimpsed in old photos. The girl who fell for a man just for holding a boombox, the simplicity of the act alone endearing her. He missed that version of her, the one untouched by shadows, despite having never met her. If only they had, he knew he’d love her. His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers tracing the smooth velvet of the ring box. If only he’d met her before, this would be easier. The question wouldn’t choke like a stone in his throat or be blocked by the wall of his tongue. 

Is that the cause of this hesitation…

He pushed away the thoughts that tried to pull him deeper down the rabbit hole. His hand hesitated but ultimately left the ring tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket. Adrian turned onto a broader road, the tension in Andrew’s chest easing slightly. “But hell, what do I know? She’s changed a lot since I last saw her.”

Curiosity pricked at Andrew’s tone. “When was that?”

Adrian exhaled, a sound heavy with memories. “Two years ago, maybe. The four of us used to meet up once a month for dinner. Then, out of nowhere, she just stopped coming. Didn’t think much of it at first—she’s always been busy. Then Christmas rolled around, and she said she had to work. Danny was home, though. I ran into him, tried to talk. But he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Couldn’t even look me in the eye. That’s when I knew something had happened. Something bad.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Carmen had made him promise not to dredge up the past. She’d handled it, she’d said. Moved on. The wounds were still raw, barely scabbed over, and reopening them now—especially to her family—felt like cruelty. She’d rebuilt so much; he couldn’t be the one to unravel it.

“You know what happened to my sister.” Adrian’s voice was low, edged with steel. It wasn’t a question—it was an accusation, a blade pointed at Andrew’s neck.

Andrew’s thumb dug into his palm. He understood the fierce protectiveness in Adrian’s tone; if it were his brother, he’d tear the world apart to uncover the truth. But Carmen had clawed her way back from darkness, and he owed her his loyalty. His voice was steady when he finally spoke. “I do.”

Adrian’s eyes bore into him. “And are you going to tell me?”

Andrew held his gaze, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s not my story to tell. If you want to know, you should ask her.”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, the glow washing over them like a silent warning. Adrian’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. For a moment, the tension stretched tight as a wire. Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of Adrian’s lips. “Alright then.”

The light turned green, and the car surged forward, but the air between them filled with music once more. As Andrew's thoughts swirled in the purring car, Carmen’s heart raced with each step she took toward Tyler’s office. Her mind, still lingering on the uncertainty of their conversation, mirrored the urgency in her chest, pushing her forward, faster, harder.

She couldn’t pace herself. Her heart drummed against her chest, forcing her lungs to breathe faster and harder. Her legs refused to slow to a walking pace. Once the locking alarm beeped on the rented car, she was off. She knew how ridiculous she looked: an adult woman in jeans and a t-shirt moving at a half-walk half-run pace used predominantly by elderly women trying to keep in shape. Even if she wasn’t aware of it, the bewildered shock on the receptionist’s face as  she hurried past Nova’s front desk was confirmation enough. She didn’t stop, not until she found herself standing on the opposite side of Tyler’s closed office door.

For a moment, movement escaped her. Her feet rooted on the spot, hands too heavy to knock. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Faintly, if she strained, she could hear the patter of a keyboard and the bubbling of coffee brewing. It was late. Far past business hours, but he was still in. 

“Showbiz has no closing time,” he once said.

She took a deep breath, attempting to steel her nerves. The door was unlocked — whatever he was doing wasn’t important. Good. He’d be in a better mood having not been interrupted. Carmen was greeted by him sat on the edge of his desk, legs crossed with his desk phone pressed to his ear. In his tailored suit and shiny leather loafers, he looked like a model posing for an editorial on men in power. He’d dyed his hair since they’d last seen each other, exchanging the chocolate brown for bleach blonde. Almost doll-like. A Ken in power. When he saw her, he smiled, only his cheeks moving when he did and even that small muscled seeming to struggle.

“Let me call you back, Jen. Woman of the hour just walked in,” he said into the receiver. His easy laugh settled Carmen’s nerves, if only a little. “I’ll have your invite sent to your hotel, kay? Thanks babes.”

He set the phone down, blowing kisses into it as he did. His smile never wavered as his eyes landed on Carmen once more. “You called,” she said, her voice sounding small and weaker than she’d intended.

“Yes, and you came!” he all but cheered, hopping from his desk. “I was hoping you’d bring your beau too. Would love a taste of the Irish.”

If this was his version of firing her, smiling and joking to soften the blow, she was past the point of having a graceful leave. She felt underdressed, awkward, and out of place. Her weight shifted uncomfortably from leg to leg as she replied softly, “He had a show.”

Tyler clicked his tongue. “That’s too bad. It’ll be drinks for just two then.” He paused, his smirk turning mischievous as he waved her over. She took two cautious steps towards him. Each one made the ground tremble beneath her feet. The room threatened to topple around her. He leaned in conspiratorially. “Or should I say three!”

He raised his left hand, revealing a solid golden band sitting proudly on his ring finger. The gold was split by a ring of diamonds that sparkled as it caught the light. Carmen blinked, looking from the ring to Tyler’s beaming smile. Her anxiety shattered into shards of confusion. 

“Congratulations?” she said. The question lingered in the air between them as Tyler snatched his hand away. He admired it like it was the first time he’d ever seen it as he floated around his desk to plop down on his chair. She huffed, backing up to fall into one of the felt and leather seats facing his desk.

He swooned, holding his hand higher to watch the diamonds sparkle. “He did well, didn’t he? Hadn’t even expected it. We went in a yacht up to Lady Liberty after he wined and dined me. In hindsight, I really should’ve seen it coming, but Hugh didn’t seem the one to settle down and then there’s the issue of the press and his wife and—“

“So wait,” Carmen interrupted, her voice sharp with impatience. “You called me to come in on my vacation, saying we needed a little chat and everything…just to tell me you’ve got engaged?”

He blinked, furrowing his eyebrows. His head tilted as he eyeballed her and, for a moment, she half expected for him to throw the ring at her face. Then, his face brightened and he threw his head back to let out a laugh that reverberated around them. “Ah, Minnie, you kill me!” He laughed once more, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. Sighing, he said, “That’s what I’m gonna miss the most when I leave, I think.” 

When he leaves? Carmen stammered, but couldn’t find the words to express her shock and confusion. He once famously announced he’d have to be dragged from his office in a body bag after speculation about him stepping down spread around the office. Stories of how he fought tooth and nail to rise through the company ranks were legend to new hires and interns. Why now? Why so suddenly? The questions must’ve been written clearly on her face, even if the words had failed her.

“I’m getting married. We’re planning a family, building a home. The future is calling and I can’t plan it from a desk, Minnie.” 

His explanation seemed so simple, so straightforward. Yet, it was so against everything he once stood for and, ultimately, everything he taught her. He was leaving, his face was resolute and certain for there to be any doubt. The blow hit her harder than she’d expected. The idea of not having him around — a nuisance, a mentor, a friend — was unthinkable. She felt like a child having their training wheel forcibly removed. 

“That’s why I called you in.” He smiled, folding his hands on his desk. “I’ve nominated you to take my place. I want you to be the next CEO of Nova.”

If the first revelation took her breath away, this one stopped her heart entirely. Her? The next CEO? No. That’s not possible. This was all a dream. Better yet, a cruel, mocking nightmare. It was only a matter of time before she woke up and found herself curled up on the tour bus bed in Andrew’s arms. A decade of work, of sacrificing so many pieces of herself, of turning so many monsters into men, all amounted to this. Carmen found herself breathless.

Tyler stared at her expectantly so she stammered, “I—I don’t know—“

“You do know,” he corrected so sharply she sobered up almost instantly. A hard swallow sent the lump back down her throat. “You’ve known since the moment you walked into this office that it was yours. Why do you think I took you under my wing? Why do you think I pushed you so hard? And you did it. You made it to the final stretch. Don’t tell me you came all this way just to back down now.”

She pursed her lips. Tyler was a lot of things to a lot of people. A liar was never one of them. His words were what he believed to be true. This was no dream or nightmare. This was her life, the reality she’d worked so hard to create. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She slipped it out of her pocket, the picture of her and Andrew lighting up the screen. They were in an infinity pool, looking out into the ocean from their Italian hotel. She had been leaning against the clear water wall, her arms draped over his shoulders. His frame hid the rest of her body entirely from the camera. Neither of them had known the phone was taken until Ruth texted it to him the next day. The message cut through the skyline in the picture.

Andy: We’ve just parked up. Can’t wait to hear how your chat’s going. Call me when you can

She could already imagine what he’d say—something low and steady, simple but certain, his Irish lilt wrapping around the words like warmth.

"You’ve got this, love. You know you do. You’ve known it longer than anyone else."

The memory of his voice was so vivid that her chest loosened, the tight knot of anxiety beginning to fray. Andrew had always seen things in her that she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see in herself. She thought of the times she’d stood backstage at his shows, watching him command a crowd like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she’d whispered how impossible it looked to her, he had only smiled, his hand finding hers.

“The fear and the unknown means you’re doing something worth doing. And when I look out there and I see you among all those faces, I know that I’ve got someone worth doing it for.”

Her lips twitched at the thought, a faint smile breaking through her nerves. If Andrew could face the chaos of a sold-out stadium with ease, she could face this. She could face Tyler’s expectant gaze and the weight of his offer. She could face the unknown, even if her knees felt like water and her pulse thundered in her ears. Because she could look out and he would be there, being someone worth doing this for.

Tears burned in the back of her eyes as she asked, “What do I need to do?”

He smiled that same wicked grin he’d given her a hundred times before — the smile of someone with a plan. 

Minnie: I don’t think I’ll make it back in time for the show. Tyler’s offered me a promotion but I’ve gotta interview for it and I need time to prepare. I’ll explain it all later. I’m sorry. Have a great show. I love you!

Adrian pulled into the stadium’s parking lot as Andrew read the message. His heart sank a bit, but he couldn't find it in himself to be upset. The news was better than he’d expected. He was fully prepared to spend the night coaxing her back from whatever edge Tyler pushed her towards. But this? For her to finally get exactly what she wanted, what she deserved? His heart swelled with pride. She could take all the time she needed, and miss all the shows she wanted. It was her time to stand in the spotlight. He smiled as he texted her an assurance that it was okay and congratulated her. Adrian glanced over at him, shaking his head at his goofy grin.

“You know what?” He spoke for the first time in almost half an hour, turning down the music. Andrew looked over at him from his phone. He half expected Adrian to kick him out of his car or tell him off for refusing to give details about something he had no right to talk about. Instead, Carmen’s brother smiled in a way that reminded him of her, a sparkle like starlight in his eyes — must be a family trait. “I like you, Andrew. You’re alright.”

He blinked, lowering his phone. “Oh. Ehm, thank you?”

“You seem surprised,” Adrian laughed.

“I kinda am. Thought you’d be mad I didn’t tell you... about Carmen.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “There’s a reason she hasn’t told me yet. And a reason you know. I trust her. She’ll talk when she’s ready. I’m just glad she’s okay. That’s what matters, right?”

Andrew’s throat tightened. “Yeah. It is.”

They circled to the back of the venue where Andrew showed his pass and directed Adrian to park by the tour bus. He grabbed the lanyard, his hands shaking just a little. Now was the time to tell him the truth. To let him know exactly why he’d insisted on meeting them in the first place. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black velvet box. Two big steps for her: a promotion and an engagement. They’ll all be over the moon. Back at the car, Andrew handed Adrian the pass.

“Show this to security. They’ll let you in.”

Adrian took it, eyes narrowing playfully. “You didn’t have to, but I’m not turning it down.” Then he noticed the box. His eyebrows shot up. “Wait. Is that...?”

Andrew opened it, revealing the gold ring, the diamond catching the fading light. Adrian’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, man. You’re serious.”

“I’m gonna ask her to marry me,” Andrew admitted, voice soft.

Adrian’s face split into a grin. “Wow. If you’re looking for our blessing, you’ve got mine. And Anaïs’s too. When’s the big moment?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? He resisted the urge to shrug, to admit he didn’t know. That was the other half of the truth he had yet to admit to anyone. If he was going to start being completely honest, her brother wouldn’t be the best choice to talk to about it. Instead, he replied with, “Well, we’re heading to Ireland next week. 

“And you thought it’d be nice to bring home a fiancée,” Adrian finished with a smile. That hadn’t been the plan but, considering Andrew didn’t have one, it didn’t sound too bad. He agreed simply for the sake of it. “Nice touch. Does she suspect anything?”

“Not a clue.”

Adrian chuckled. “Shit, man. You better record her reaction. Surprising Carmen? Priceless.”

Andrew laughed. “Will do.”

A shout from the stadium entrance: “Andy! Mic check!”

Andrew turned back, shaking Adrian’s hand. “Thanks for the ride, mate.”

“Hey, anytime! And remember—record it for me!”

Adrian backed out, waving. Andrew watched him go, heart racing, the future glinting just as brightly as the ring in his pocket.

Chapter Text

Carmen kicked off her shoes with a huff. Her screaming feet quieted to a dull groan the moment they touched the cold tile floor of her apartment. Gravity sagged her shoulders and pulled her purse down with it. It fell to her feet with a soft clink. Her lungs filled with the essence of lavender and lemongrass puffing through the oil diffuser on the bar top counter splitting the kitchen from the living room. Silvery moonlight flooded into the space through the balcony sliding doors, sliced by the soft golden glow of the end table lamp she’d certainly clicked off before leaving that morning. On the coffee table sat a battered, black leather-bound notebook open to a page scribbled with pen and marked with a guitar pick. The guitar itself was snuggled in its case by the dining table. A fresh bouquet of lilies showed off their shades of pinks and purples in the crystal glass vase that had moved itself from the coffee table to the dining table. The exhaustion that clouded her eyes the entire drive home cleared as a small smile spread on her cheeks.

She clicked off the lamp once more before padding down the hall towards her bedroom. A sliver of light escaped from under the door, but the apartment remained silent. She paused, gathering the breaths that fled from her lungs. They turned into butterflies that fluttered around her stomach and buzzed through her veins. Her hands vibrated with them as she opened the door. The source of the light from the door was her bedside lamp letting off a warm splash of orange across the room. Sitting on the side of the bed closest to its glow was Andrew. His tall frame leaned against the upholstered headboard in a plain white shirt, long legs stretched out and crossed under the comforter. A book sat on his lap and a pair of circular glass on his nose. He looked up from his book when she entered, setting down the mug he held on the bedside table.

“I see that spare key came in handy then,” Carmen quipped, though her tone held no hint of disapproval.

Andrew shrugged, “Never give a key to an Irishman if you don’t want him to use it.”

He smiled and put his book aside to toss back the blankets. Carmen pulled off her magenta blazer and black pants before crawling into bed. Her head rested on one of Andrew’s sweatpants-covered legs and he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“How’d you get on today?” he asked, his fingers finding her hand to hold.

She sighed, “It was alright, I suppose. A lot of shadowing Tyler. Lots of shaking hands, smiling, kissing babies, and all that.”

“Are ya interviewing to be the president or somethin’?” he chuckled. His thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand. The calluses on his fingers complimented the gentle touch.

“God, you would think,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. Bringing his hand to her lips, she spoke while kissing each one of his knuckles. “I’m sorry I missed your show again. I really thought I would make it tonight.”

He gazed down at her with a tenderness that made the forests in his eyes brighten. “Darling, you’ve been to a lifetime’s worth of my shows. Missing one or two, I think, is healthy. Gives you a chance to see better acts.” Carmen laughed, swatting him on his chest, and he joined her. “Plus, if I wanted a woman who could drop everything and follow me around the globe, I would’ve gotten with—“

“That former Victoria’s Secret model who was insistent on being near you all night two days ago?” Carmen finished, smirking at him wickedly. “The one that swore you’d met before and when you promised her you hadn’t, she said—what was it again?”

“Nope. Not doing this.” He rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

“Oh you don’t have to,” she assured while reaching for where she’d left her phone in the blankets. The quote had been saved in her notes after Melissa and Alex simultaneously texted her live updates about it. Melissa even FaceTimed her so they could debrief with a glass of wine and laughter while Andrew pouted and attempted to defend himself against the band’s teasing. “Here it is! ‘I don’t think I’ve ever met you before. I’m terribly sorry but you must be mistaken,’ said Andy, trying to let a gal down easy. Then she, ever so smooth with the one liners, said—“ Carmen cringed, failing to hold back a laugh. “She said, and I quote, ‘Maybe it was in a past life then’.”

The laughter that followed immediately filled the room with warmth. Just under it, she could hear him grumbling, “Fuck me, I’m never gonna live that down am I?” The corners of his mouth flicked upwards in an amused smile.

“Absolutely not.” She pushed herself up to kneel next to him on the bed. In a dreamy, singsong voice, she echoed the taunt the entire band tormented him with the moment they returned to their buses, “Hozier and Hana together in this life and the next!”

“Don’t be a dick,” he laughed. His arms wrapped around her to pull her onto his lap. She bit her lip, taking in the scent of his aftershave. Earthy but sweet, like fresh soil or morning dew. “‘S not my fault I fancy mouses over models, Minnie.”

She huffed and, before she could retort, he covered her lips with his. His hands, warmer from holding his mug, eased under her blouse. A small gasp slipped from her lips when his fingers began fumbling with the clasp of her bra. Steadying herself, she pulled away from his intoxicating kiss.

“I need a shower,” she whispered against his lips and climbed off his lap. 

The clock on her dresser read 3:00. She had to be back in the office at eight the next morning. Five hours of sleep wouldn’t be nearly enough to stay upright in meetings then throughout an entire concert and whatever post-show activity they’re always dragged to attending. It was a miracle Andrew was even upright himself really.

“I’ll wait up,” Andrew suggested, already picking up his book.

Carmen slipped her shirt over her head. She pretended to ignore the way his eyes dragged hungrily over body as if he hadn’t seen it at least a hundred times before. One word and he’d be on her in an instant. “Nah, it’s late and we both have a long day tomorrow and —“

“It’s already tomorrow love,” he interrupted, nodding at the clock. “What’s another half hour?”

She smiled softly before heading towards the bathroom.

Turned out another half hour meant the difference between a readily alert man and a zombie-like state of consciousness. Carmen had left him with a breakfast croissant and orange juice on the counter before heading to work hours before he could even pull himself out of bed. The ache of performing two full-length shows in two nights turned into a nagging pain and an exhaustion that settled deep in his bones. He’d stretched, showered, and still felt like a truck hit him. The break was what he needed—what they needed. Two weeks of uninterrupted time in the countryside with family, Carmen, and his bees. He sat in his third meeting of the day, fourth cup of coffee in hand, daydreaming of a warm summer breeze perfumed with wildflowers and honey.

His new publicist, Hazel, laid out a plan involving several televised appearances and updating the team on the videographer’s progress in creating a music video for Too Sweet. It had been her plan to use concert footage. Carmen had subtly suggested they also include clips of rehearsal sessions. Clips that she herself recorded but, like many of the pictures posted on his official account, she credited Ruth. The conversation was static, Andrew only tuning in on the rare occasion where they’d asked for his input. He found himself once again missing working with Carmen and the dynamics that would be at play when they were in a room together. 

“Andrew?” Hazel’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him begrudgingly back to the present. He raised an eyebrow at her. She was annoyingly patient with him. Carmen would’ve told him off for his lack of attention. “CBS has agreed to pre-record the ‘Too Sweet’ performance for the Colbert show but we’ve gotta do it today. We’ll have to skip sound checks, but we can still make it back with a couple hours to spare. That cool?”

Andrew glanced at Gary then his sound engineer, who just shrugged. He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ehm, sure, I guess.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good—great, actually! I’ve also got Lucy Dacus to do a surprise appearance tonight. Was thinking you could do a ballad or something together.”

“Who?” Andrew raised his eyebrow.

“Lucy Dacus? Singer-songwriter, part of boygenius with Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker?” she questioned with a tone that implied he should’ve already known who she was without the explanation. He looked around the table at the other blank faces. Shrugging, he sat back in his seat and watched her pinch her lips. A part of him hoped she’d tell him off for his indifference. Instead, she turned her attention to her iPad and flipped the screen to show a graph he couldn’t see. “Stats show she’s popular with the fans. Your listenership lines up. Even if you don't know who she is, they will.”

“Alright,” was all he had the energy to say. 

The meeting ended shortly after. He thanked them all for their time and hit a vending machine for an energy drink on his way out of Columbia’s headquarters. A car pulled up on the pathway outside driven, thankfully, by Alex. Melissa tapped away at her phone in the passenger seat. Andrew breathed for what felt like the first time, his lungs thanking him as they expanded with the weed and leather smelling car. Alex peered at him through the rear view mirror.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, chuckling to himself. He was already dressed for the filming of the show in his all black outfit. 

“Was touring always this fucking knackering?” he huffed.

“I don’t think so,” Melissa chimed in. Her tone was clear and bright, like she’d had the full night’s sleep that he so desperately needed. She looked over the shoulder of her leather seat, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Maybe it’s just extra hard ‘cause there’s other things you’d rather be doing now.”

Alex scoffed, “Yeah like being balls deep in Carmen.” 

“Alex!” Melissa gasped, her cheeks tinting pinker than her blush.

“What?” he laughed. “Oh, was I supposed to say Hana now? Sorry, mate, can’t keep up anymore.”

“Fuck off with that!” Andrew reached forward to smack his shoulder, unable to stop the smile that took hold of his face. “Carmen was on about that shit last night. Thanks again,” he directed at Melissa, who giggled. “I’ll be on my feckin’ deathbed still hearin’ ‘Hozier and Hana’.”

“Orrr, your wedding day!” Melissa suggested, wiggling her eyebrows. Andrew rolled his eyes. “Did you do it? She didn’t text me last night so I wasn’t sure but I thought maybe she might’ve been too…busy…to get to the phone and I didn’t want to ask in case you didn’t and ruin the surprise. But I’ve been dying to know!”

“You know he hasn’t. Look at ‘em!” Alex motioned to the rear view mirror. “Yer gonna tell me that’s the face of a lad who’s gettin’ married? I reckon he bottled it.”

“‘Kay, I’m right here,” Andrew reminded, waving at the space between their seats. “And no. I didn’t ask her. She got home late. We were both tired and…I don’t know…it just wasn’t the right moment.”

Melissa turned herself towards him as much as the seat would allow. Her eyebrows were furrowed and lips pursed. Seeing her like this, makeup accenting her features and sunlight framing her hair, Andrew understood why men tripped over themselves for the chance to approach her with hope in their eyes and sweetness on their tongues. “When’s it going to be the right moment, Andy? I mean, you got the ring like six months ago, you met her brother and sister. They like you. She loves you. So, what’s the problem?”

“These things take time.”

He repeated exactly what he told himself in the mirror every time he’d missed an opportunity to get down on one knee and ask her to be his wife. She was already his everything in all but name. He wanted her to have that too. He trusted her to have that. So, he had no idea why he couldn’t just do it. He’d talked about it with his therapist so many times he’d lost count. She had a few theories of her own— none of which he was particularly ready to admit to or accept as truth. The only thing he could do was repeat the same line to himself and hope he didn’t run out of the time he was taking.

“There’s always her birthday.” Alex suggested, pulling into the parking garage of the skyscraper that housed CBS’s soundstages. “When was it again? Next month right?”

“July 29th,” he corrected.

“Gives you a month to plan!” she squeaked and turned to adjust her hair in the mirror.

Alex chuckled and handed Melissa her bow from the cup holder. “Yeah, a month to grow some balls too.”

Five blocks away, Carmen sifted through the files on her desk. Well, it wasn’t really her desk anymore. Her interns had turned the office into a central meeting room in her absence. If Tyler had his way, it would never be her desk again. She pulled data and projects spanning her entire career. The Kardashian rebrand, Sabrina Carpenter’s response to Olivia Rodrigo, Zendaya’s break from Disney, turning the D’Amelios from whatever they were to whatever they are now — Carmen’s portfolio was a case study in how to make and sell a superstar, the mission of Nova and the reason behind its name. Yet, she still hesitated with every addition, poured herself over the before-and-after numbers, and even second guessed several of her most successful projects. Tyler had emphasized that his endorsement would get her in the door but it wouldn’t be enough. The competition was stiff, her performance had to be a model of perfection. The blemishes—the Jack disaster specifically—had to be smoothed over with the finest of precision and pizzazz. She could already feel the gray strands cutting through her dark hair.

“Minniiiieeee,” Tyler called over the sound of his heeled loafers rushing down the hall. Carmen forced a tight smile as she slapped her papers down on her desk. Either he didn’t notice the twitching in her eye, or didn’t care, because he came waltzing into her office anyway. “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

Judging by the twinkle that still remained in his eyes, his continual use of his fake accent, and the fact that he called her by that stupid nickname, she figured the bad news didn’t actually affect him in the slightest. Both of it had something to do with her. His jitteriness implied that it had something to do with the promotion. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, “Dealer’s choice.”

“Hmmm, okay.” He paused to clear his throat and collect himself. Carmen blinked at him, letting her guise of patience fall to a frown. “The good news is the board’s willing to honor your pre-approved PTO request and not have you do the interviews in July when the rest of the candidates are scheduled.”

At this, she perked up. It was a miracle she’d even gotten so much of the time off approved in the first place, but she had accumulated enough over the years spent never taking days off to justify the request. Tyler had promised her he’d see what he can do, but her hopes admittedly hadn’t been all that high.

“Wha—how did you get them to agree to that?” Carmen stammered, her smile genuine.

“Yeah see, that’s where the bad news comes in,” Tyler winced, scratching the back of his head. The excitement left her as quickly as it came. She slumped back in her chair, deflated and exhausted. “They’ve moved your interviews forward. The board’s is on Monday and the one-on-one’s on Tuesday.”

Her heart sank. She glanced at her portfolio, then at all the files she still had yet to get through. They didn’t even measure up to all the projects on the online database she’d planned on adding. And what about the concerts? There was no way she could do it all. The thought made her brain short-circuit.

“No, no, Ty, I can’t—I can’t do that.” 

She hated how her voice shook with every word. He furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his hand as if to reach out for hers. Thinking the better of it, he lowered it instead to rest on the file folder labeled with her name containing a meticulously crafted assortment of all her best work. His eyes locked onto hers. She curled in on herself under him but there was nowhere to hide where he couldn’t see her—all of her. A solid fierceness lit in his gaze.

“This is what I’ve trained you for,” he assured, the words surrounding her, swallowing her, washing over her like a tidal wave. “Enough with the portfolio. Let the work speak for itself.” She nodded, swallowing the anxiety that lodged in her throat. Tyler smiled, clicking his tongue as he rose from his seat. His eye caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, as it always did, and his hand instinctively flinched up to fix his hair. “Don’t doubt yourself, Minnie. It’s not a good look.”

Before she could deny what he so evidently saw written across her face, he turned from the mirror to leave her office. An intern found her pacing her office in the glow of the afternoon sun, murmuring to herself as she flipped through pages of notes on potential questions she’ll be asked. He left her a cup of black coffee and an envelope that had been delivered to the front desk by “a gentleman dressed in all black and a lady with a big gray bow in her hair”. Carmen printed updated copies of her resume, pulled plans from projects she’d managed, and reviewed the steps of the interview process until she could recite it by memory. The coffee on her desk went cold and the envelope lost beneath a box of files. 

Chapter Text

Andrew absently strummed his guitar in his stadium-provided dressing room. He knew she hadn’t opened the envelope yet. Alex grumbled and Melissa teased but they obliged when he’d asked for them to drop off the coffee and card asking her to call when she’d gotten the chance. He hadn’t gotten so much as a text since she’d left that morning. His fingers fumbled over the notes he played once again as his mind drifted.

He set his guitar aside with a huff, running his hands across his face. Lucy would be there to run through their song in half an hour, doors opened in two hours, and his overarching thought was how much he couldn’t be bothered. One performance a night was enough to wear him out, but two? It was like they were pushing him into hibernation. He laid his head against the back of the leather couch, imagining the end of the tour and the beginning of setting roots — real roots— with Carmen. It felt almost too good to be true, an intangible concept that would always linger just beyond his grasp. But it promised warmth, it promised rest, so he leaned into it anyway.

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he heard a knock on the door that jolted him awake.  Ruth peaked her head in, her black bob pinned back with silver clips. She gave him a sheepish smile, shaking her head as she let herself in entirely. “Having sweet dreams, were you?

“Trying to,” he groaned, sitting up fully when he noticed the blue wrapped box in her hands. A bright yellow ribbon sealed it shut with an expertly tied bow. “‘S that it?”

She smiled down at the gift, nodding, "Yep, exactly what you asked for: top of the line, lightweight, great for travel. She'll love it.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“I wish I could be there to see her face when she opens it. Gary's got me on front of house duty today. Hazel says there's not enough concert footage for the video so…” Her voice drifted off as she shrugged.

The door creeped open again. This time, it was Ryan, coming with his earpiece already in and drumsticks—as always—shoved in his back pocket. “Aye, Lucy's here, mate. Want to do a quick sound check? See what song she was thinking?”

Andrew glanced over at Ruth who simply chuckled and shook her head at his pained expression. With a sigh he rose from the couch, grabbed his guitar, and motioned for Ryan to lead the way.

All eyes drifted to the stage the moment Andrew walked onto it. The rest of the band had been lounging around the instruments and speakers, doing whatever pre-show rituals they had adopted for the night as Alex ran through some fills with Joy on the piano. The setting sun beamed down into the stadium, washing everything with an orange glow. Hazel scurried up to him with Lucy following close behind. Seeing her in person still didn't ring any bells for him, but he smiled and shook her hand anyway, thanking her for coming on such short notice.

“No problem at all,” she said with a smile. “Genuinely, I'm a huge fan. Always have been.”

He wished he could say the same, but instead all he could muster was, “Thank you, that means  a lot. Thank you.”

Hazel went through all the specificities of the night: the timing, how it would be announced, and where exactly she wanted Lucy to stand so the audience and Ruth would be able to get the best shot of the two of them together. He had to hand it to her. Though he found her a bit…exasperating,  for lack of a better word, she was good at what she did. She was detailed, level-headed under pressure, and inventive with her ideas. Of course she was. She’d been trained by Carmen and had worked under her ever since. When Carmen had asked him to release her from their contract, he’d painfully obliged. Hazel was almost immediately put up for the position, after he expressed that he still wanted Nova’s services. While Carmen never admitted it, he had an inkling that she had something to do with the appointment.

“So I was thinking we bring Lucy on stage for I, Carrion.” Hazel looked up from her clipboard at Andrew with her big green-brown eyes. No doubt they had been the inspiration behind her name. “What’d you think, Andrew?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, glancing over at Alex. “Carrion wasn't on the setlist for tonight. It hasn't been for the past few shows.” He motioned over to Ryan, who’d joined Alex in his toying around with their instruments as they pretended not to eavesdrop. “The band never gets it right and it doesn't play well for the crowd.”

“Well, maybe that will change if you have Lucy on it!” Andrew opened his mouth to respond with a swift retort, but Hazel quickly cut him off by adding, “And if it doesn't work, we can take it off the setlist and you never have to play it live again. What’d ya say?”

He looked over at Lucy, who was watching him expectantly. He really didn’t want to let her down. It wasn't her fault that the band could never actually practice the song properly. Any time they played it, he couldn't stop his voice from cracking, couldn't stop the tears from falling when the sound of it dragged his mind back to the past. The offer of never having to play it again sounded enticing, so he shrugged and sighed, “Fine.”

“Epic!” Hazel cheered and Andrew laughed, remembering how young she was. “Okay, well we can run through it real quick. I’ll hold entrance openings for another thirty minutes just so that we can get it nice and clean. Then I say we let them in.  Fans have already been lining up since this morning.”

Carmen arrived at the stadium midway through their rehearsals of the song. Joy and Larissa leaned on the barricade, their phones’ flashlights lit up in the sky as they swayed back and forth. When they saw Carmen, they waved her over and invited her to join them in their reverie. She wanted to resist, but the way they were looking at her— the light in their eyes rivaled only by the brightness of their smiles— made her cave.  She turned on her phone flashlight and joined them. While Joy and Larissa had their arms draped over each other's shoulders, Carmen was content with just being next to them and swaying in sync with their movements and the music.  

Though it was only a rehearsal, Andrew's voice rang out warm and clear. It effortlessly filled the empty stadium and reverberated around her heart. The beauty of it never failed to amaze her. When on stage, he wasn't the Andrew that snuggled with her in bed the night and read poems softly until he drifted to sleep. This was Hozier, the man who turned the poems into beautiful melodies that topped charts. And she loved both of them.

When they wrapped up their run of the song, their audience of three cheered as if it was an audience of three hundred. Andrew chuckled, looking down at them. The adrenaline rush of an upcoming show finally flooded through his veins.  Everyone with eyes could see how his smile softened when he noticed Carmen amongst the cheering. His shoulders loosened and a tinge of blush bloomed on his cheeks. Lucy followed his gaze, biting her lip. She saw Carmen smiling back up at him and giving him a small wave before turning to follow Larissa and Joy towards the back tunnels. 

She nudged him. “Is that her?”

“What do you mean?” He still wasn't sure how to respond to people outside of the circle who questioned what was still unknown to most of the word. 

She nodded, her small widening. “Yep, it's her.”

He sighed and figured there was no point in denying what was so obviously written on his face. “Yeah, always has been.”

They parted ways after rehearsing the harmonies once more. A roadie came to escort Lucy to her dressing room while Andrew headed it back to his. A sound engineer attempted to stop him with a microphone box and inner ears in hand. Andrew promised him he'd be right back before making a beeline for where he knew Carmen would be waiting. Behind him, the hum of fans filing into the stadium filled the air with an anticipatory buzz. His body nearly vibrated with it. It was impossible to keep himself from smiling as he pushed open the dressing room door. 

Carmen sat at his vanity, patting concealer under her eyes. Her hair was still pulled into the tight ponytail she normally wore for work. In fact, she looked like she came straight from her office to the stadium, still dressed in a black pantsuit and red-bottomed pumps. Andrew closed the door behind him. He appeared behind her in the mirror, lowering himself so his head rested on her shoulder. Their reflection in the lighted mirror was one out of a painting. Andrew, with his curls forming a curtain that framed his face, gazed at her. His eyes caught the light of the mirror’s bulbs and showed off the brilliance in their moss-like color. The brown of Carmen’s gaze complimented his — the soil of his garden, the branches to his tree. Yet, the light was harsh with its unforgiveness. Dark circles marked sleepless nights under Andrew’s eyes the same way red tinged Carmen’s. Crinkles had formed in the corners of his eyes, and half-moon crescents framed her soft smile. Still, she leaned her head against his and took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, raising her hand to stroke the rough stubble of his beard.

He turned his head slightly to place a kiss on her cheek. “Hi, love.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she basked in the warmth of his body being so close to her own. The commotion of the stage crew setting up for the show and the drumming of fans rushing to be the first at the barricade muted under the sound of his breathing. He pressed a kiss to her forehead then her cheek once more, lips lingering in each spot like he wanted to savor her. When he straightened again, she felt the absence almost immediately. The world came flooding back. 

She looked at herself in the mirror and only found exhaustion darkening her eyes and anxiety lining her cheeks. His hands massaged her shoulders. A tingle of panic surged through her at his touch. The gentle kneading felt like stones pressing her back. She tried not to flinch. Yet, he must’ve felt the tension in her shoulders tightening rather than loosen. His hands were moved away from her with a quiet apology.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” She turned her chair around to face him and still had to lean back to meet his eye. “I’ve just got so much pressure on me with this interview and the whole promotion thing. I don’t feel ready for any of it at all.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. His gaze burned with sincerity as he assured her, “If there’s anyone prepared for it, it’s you. I mean, I see how hard ya work, love. They’d be idiots not to offer it to you.”

“Well they might not agree,” she sighed. The anxiety still pulsing through her brought back a restlessness that made it impossible to sit still. She rose from her chair and paced around the dressing room, gnawing on her bottom lip. “They might take one look at everything I’ve got and say it’s not enough. I’ve put ten years into this, Andy! I don’t know if I could take that. I don’t know if—”

“That’s not going to happen. You know that,” he tried, but the dam had burst open. Her pacing brought her past him twice without a single glance in his direction, as if he wasn’t even there.

Breathlessly, she continued, “Then I start thinking like is it even worth it, y’know? There’s probably someone out there who’s put twenty years in the field, who doesn’t have nearly as many blemishes as I’ve got, who deserves to be in the room way more than I do—“

“No one deserves to be there more than you. C’mere to me.” He took her hand in his and, when her muscles didn’t seize with panic, brought her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest, taking a deep breath. Softly, he promised, “You are amazing at what you do. If they don’t see that, it’s their fuckin’ loss. They need you. You don’t need them.”

She chuckled into his chest, “I don’t think that last part’s particularly true but—“

“It is.” he shushed her, pulling back to meet her eyes. “You’ve just gotta believe it, then figure out how to convince them.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have much time to do that. The first interview is Monday.”

His heart sank. He dropped his arms from around her, hands finding his pockets as he questioned, “Monday? I thought you said it’d be sometime in July, around your birthday?”

“Tyler moved it forward so it wouldn’t interfere too much with my vacation. We’re meant to be on the other side of the country around that time, remember?”

The baseless hope that he’d misheard her faded away with the daydream that had kept him afloat all day. He could almost see the countryside growing further away from him, the roots he wanted to grow becoming more intangible. The exhaustion returned to his body with a vengeance.

Trying not to sound too disappointed, he reminded, “Yeah, but we’re also meant to be flying back to Ireland for the break on Monday.”

Her eyes widened. “Fuck. Shit, Andy, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. It wasn’t my choice. He sprung it on me today and honestly my head’s still reeling from it all.” Andrew sat down on his couch. His gaze seemed distant, unfocused, as he ran his hand through his hair. Carmen moved to sit next to him, rubbing her hand down his thigh. “I know you were looking forward to going home. I’m not gonna stop you if you want to carry on without me. I can meet you there when it’s done.”

The silence stretched between them. Andrew pursed his lips. He missed his home so badly it ached if he thought about it for too long. His mind craved the peace and calm that enveloped him with every sunrise on a cool, misty morning. The last time he was home, she was there with him. He couldn’t deny that she was the completeness of the morning. He couldn’t unlearn the warmth that came with waking up next to her. That same warmth that drove him nearly across his country to inconspicuously buy a ring that now burned a hole in his suitcase. Besides, she’d taken over six months off work just to accompany him around the globe. The least he could do was stay for two more days.

With a sigh, he broke the silence. “It’s ok. I’ll stay.”

“Andy, really, it’s fine. You don’t have to—“ she started.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” he assured, shrugging. “Gives me more time with you and more time to just enjoy New York. It is my favorite city outside of home, y’know. And not just ‘cause you’re here.”

“Really? I don’t want to take time away from you and your family. You deserve to rest.”

“I can rest when I’m dead.” Carmen rolled her eyes to Andrew’s amusement. He cupped her cheek in his hand, bringing her so close his lips brushed against hers as he said, “Right now, my baby needs me here and that’s exactly where I plan to be.”

She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

She kissed him, her hand drifting further up his thigh than before. The black linen slacks of his suit did little to hide the effect she had on him. If he was honest, he didn’t want to hide it. It had been too long since he had her touch. But time was of the essence. He could already hear the commotion rising, the cheers of the fans swelling with each song Allison played. 

Against her lips, he whispered, “I’ve got you somethin’.”

“My birthday’s not for another month,” she reminded him with a soft laugh.

“So, I can only spoil you on your birthday, then,” he joked, nipping at the sensitive skin on her neck that made shivers run down her spine. “Got it.”

Before she could respond, a knock halted both of their movements. A stage tech called behind the locked door, “Allison’s halfway through her set. Mic call in five.”

“Right, thank you!” Andrew shouted, before diverting his attention back to Carmen. He reached for the gift still neatly wrapped on the coffee table. “Here, I wanna see you open it. Think it might make you feel a bit better about all this.”

She scoffed but didn’t deny him as he placed the box in her hands. It took one well-placed tug to remove the bow and a few tears to get through the wrapping. Carmen gasped, tears welling in her eyes at the sight, “You got me a camera? Andy!” Her arms flung around his neck so quickly he nearly fell onto her. She kissed his forehead and cheeks and lips before releasing him just as quickly. Unpacking the box, she marveled, “But why? I—I haven’t picked up a real one in years.”

“It’s about time you do,” he chuckled softly as he watched her take out the sleek silver Nikon camera — a smaller, more compact version of Ruth’s favorite model. She turned it on and flipped it over in her hands to examine every inch of it, smiling in a way that made her cheeks puff and eyes sparkle. Meaning it with all the love his heart could muster, he said, “Happy early birthday, love.”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. Her heart ached with affection. She hadn’t spoken about photography since that afternoon they’d spent in the museum ages ago. Sure, she’d dabbled in taking pictures and videos here or there when she could muster the courage to. Ruth humored her enough to show her the equipment she worked with. But she never thought she’d be picking up a camera of her own again. It was too much for words, for any other expression. She set the camera down again and wrapped her arms around Andrew, holding him like a first breath of fresh air. “Andy, I—“

A stage technician pounded on the door once again, shattering the moment. “Hozier! You’re needed on stage.”

He sighed, pulling away from her. “Hold that thought alright?” He paused to adjust himself in the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt. Carmen’s lipstick left a stain on his cheek he knew the fans would pick up. He reluctantly wiped his face with a towel until the glossy brown mark had disappeared. As he grabbed his jacket, he glanced back to see Carmen toying with the camera. He smiled. “Go see Ruth! She’s been dying to show ya all the features.”

She nodded. “I will. See you out there?”

“I’ll be looking for you.” He winked at her before swinging the door open to a red-faced tech and Gary who looked about to explode. Carmen waved at them as they herded him away.

Alex’s disappointment greeted him when they arrived in the wings of the stage. Just beyond the sight-line tape, he could see the crowd—thousands of cheering fans stretched from the stage to the lawn beyond. They moved as one entity, a shapeless form of noise and excitement. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his cheeks at the sight. A smile which Alex did not return. “I’m assuming you were late because you were asking someone a very important question.”

Andrew chuckled, sliding his microphone box into his pocket. “Yeah, it went along the lines of ‘do you like the camera I just got ya?’.”

Alex slipped his bass over his shoulders and handed Andrew his guitar. “You gave her the camera already?”

“Couldn’t help myself,” he shrugged, draping his inner ears over his shoulders. “Knew she’d be excited about it and, with her interviews coming up, she needed somethin’ to get her mind off it.”

Alex scoffed, shaking his head. “Wish you’d have that thought process when it comes to proposing.”

“Ah, here! Tell me, mate, when were you planning on askin’ Mel to marry you?” Andrew pointed out, motioning to Melissa, who was helping Joy clip her microphone box to the back of her shirt. “You two’ve been together longer than Carmen and I.”

Alex raised his eyebrow and pointed to his ears. With a cheeky smile, he said. “Mic on. Sorry can’t hear ya.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, fitting his inner ears in place. “Bastard.”

Chapter Text

Carmen checked herself in the mirror one final time, scrutinizing every detail with a sharp, unrelenting gaze. Her hair was sleek and smooth, not a strand out of place, coiled and pinned into a careful updo that spoke of control she no longer felt. Her suit, a deep charcoal gray, was pristine, free from creases, its sharp lines a desperate attempt at professionalism. Her makeup was flawless—foundation blended to perfection, eyeliner sharp enough to cut, lipstick carefully applied in a neutral shade that whispered confidence. Yet beneath the polished exterior, she was unraveling.

Her eyes, ringed in restless red, betrayed her sleepless night. Her hands trembled as she adjusted a stray eyelash, the movement so unsteady it took three attempts to apply mascara without smudging. The weakness in her legs had nothing to do with Andrew this time, but she still questioned her choice of heels. They felt like a punishment, a challenge she didn’t need. Why had she even bothered to get out of bed?

If she stayed in bed, she wouldn’t have to face the reality of being turned away. The crushing humiliation of hoping. Stay in bed. Avoid the fall. It would be safer. It would be easier.

A pair of hands encircled her waist, warmth sinking through the fabric of her blazer, startling her from her thoughts. The sudden touch sent a jolt down her already failing spine.

“There is no one else better fit for this than you,” Andrew murmured, his voice low and certain, his lips brushing against her ear.

She sighed, letting herself melt, just for a moment, into his embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered back, holding her a little tighter.

She lingered in the safety of his arms before pulling away. She wasn’t safe here. Not from the weight pressing on her chest, not from the creeping fear of failure.

Arriving early at her office, she tried to focus, to prepare, but nothing settled her nerves. Her thoughts felt like static, the words on her notes blurring together. Sitting still felt impossible.

So she turned to her camera.

With a deep breath, she loaded her SD card onto the computer, the familiar whir of the files transferring giving her a brief moment of stillness. As the images filled the screen, she let herself be pulled into them, into the moments she had captured.

The first were the grand ones—Hozier on stage, a towering figure bathed in golden light, his voice carrying like a spell through the crowd. He looked otherworldly, lost in his art, fingers dancing over guitar strings like they were an extension of himself. The images were breathtaking, each frame capturing the raw electricity of the performance, the way music could wrap around a person and take them somewhere else.

But as she scrolled, the moments grew quieter.

A picture of Joy in the dressing room, her face bare of makeup, lips pursed in a playful kiss towards the camera as she tied her curls up into a bun. The warm glow of the lights behind her softened the sharp lines of exhaustion under her eyes. Allison and Larissa, cross-legged on the tour bus floor, surrounded by flickering candles, their hands resting palm-up on their knees as they meditated. A stolen moment of peace in the chaos.

Alex carrying Melissa on his back, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, both of them grinning so wide their eyes were nearly shut. Laughter captured in still form, radiating joy from the screen.

And then—Andrew.

She lingered on the images of him the longest.

Andrew at her kitchen counter, brewing coffee in the dim morning light, his expression soft with sleep, dark circles beneath his eyes. The gentle curve of his mouth, the absent way he stirred the spoon, lost in thought. Another of him on her couch, feet up on the coffee table, hair tucked under a black cap. His arms wrapped around his knees, his body loose with comfort, mid-laugh at her inability to turn off the flash.

And then, an accident—a photo taken by mistake, one she hadn’t noticed before. Just his arm at first glance, but as she looked closer, she saw the way it was wrapped around her waist. The bare skin of her hip against his. The faint outline of their bodies pressed together, the curve of her thigh hooked over his waist, the pale stretch of his stomach against hers.

A year ago, such contact would have been unbearable. It would have sent her spiraling, drowning in memories she couldn’t shake. A shadow, a weight, something she had to escape from.

Now, his touch was something else.

Familiar. Welcomed. Needed.

A knock at the door startled her, and she hurried to close out the images, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. She looked up, expecting Tyler, but of course, it wasn’t him.

Tyler wasn’t allowed in this meeting or anywhere near it. No bias. Which also meant no support.

An empty seat rather than a friendly face.

The intern standing in her doorway beamed, oblivious to the sinking weight in Carmen’s stomach. “They’re ready for you in the boardroom.”

Carmen hesitated for only a second before forcing herself to stand. She nodded at the girl, squared her shoulders, and mimicked Tyler’s old confidence.

Don’t doubt yourself. It’s not a good look.

Smiling, she strode forward, her heels clicking against the floor as she followed the intern to what she could only hope wasn’t her doom.

The boardroom was cold, the air crisp with the scent of fresh coffee and faint cologne. As she stepped inside, her gaze immediately went to the empty chair at the head of the table—Tyler’s chair. A stark reminder that she was on her own in this.

Across from her, the interviewers sat in a neat row. Evelyn Carter, sharp-eyed and composed as ever, sat in the center. To her right, Richard Hayes leaned back slightly, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. Elaine Porter sat to the left, legs crossed, a pen twirling between her fingers.

“Carmen,” Evelyn greeted, her voice smooth, inviting. “Thank you for being here.”

Carmen gave a polite nod as she took her seat. “Thank you for having me.”

Evelyn wasted no time. “You have an impressive record, and no one can deny your contributions to this company. But as you know, the board has to consider every angle before making such a critical decision.”

“Of course.”

Elaine leaned forward slightly. “Your leadership has been commendable, but there have been… challenges. Ones that have put the company in the spotlight in ways that weren’t always favorable.”

Carmen kept her expression neutral. “If you’re referring to the renegotiation of our agreement with Getty Images, I stand by every decision I made. It strengthened our relationship with clients and improved efficiency across the board.”

Richard let out a quiet chuckle. “We’re not here to talk about logistics. We’re here to talk about you.”

Evelyn nodded, hands folded neatly on the table. “Let’s start with Jack.”

The name landed like a stone in her chest, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she met Evelyn’s gaze head-on. “What about him?”

Richard tilted his head. “The way things ended with Jack was… complicated.”

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” Carmen corrected, voice steady. “I reported him. The company took action. End of story.”

Elaine raised a brow. “Some might say it’s not that simple.”

Carmen’s fingers tightened around the arms of her chair. “Then some would be wrong.”

Evelyn smiled, a cool and unreadable thing. “Regardless, it’s a part of your history here. One that the board has to take into account.”

Carmen exhaled slowly, keeping her shoulders squared. “I understand. And I also understand that I’ve proven my ability to lead despite that history.”

Evelyn nodded, seemingly satisfied, but Richard wasn’t done. “Now, let’s talk about Andrew.”

Carmen’s breath caught in her throat, but she pushed past it. “What about him?”

Richard’s smirk deepened. “His refusal to renew your contract raised some questions.”

Carmen hesitated. Just long enough for them to notice.

Elaine’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We need to be sure you can separate the personal from the professional, Carmen.”

Her stomach twisted.

Then Richard leaned in, his voice silk-smooth with venom. “Tell us, how many more clients will you sleep with before this company stops being a business and starts being your playground?”

Carmen’s blood ran cold. Her voice echoed around the room as she demanded, “Enough.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Elaine stopped twirling her pen. Evelyn’s expression remained unreadable, but Richard—Richard smirked like he had been waiting for this.

Carmen’s breath was steady, but beneath the table, her hands were trembling. She clenched them into fists, pressing her nails into her palms until she felt the sting. She wouldn’t let them see her falter.

She exhaled slowly, her voice cold and controlled. “Let me make one thing very clear.” She swept her gaze over each of them, ensuring they were all listening. “I have dedicated my career—my life—to this company. I have worked twice as hard as any man sitting in my position. I have fought tooth and nail to prove myself, to rise above every obstacle that was thrown in my way. And I will not sit here and entertain the disgusting insinuation that I have slept my way through it.”

Richard leaned back in his chair, feigning boredom. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s exactly what you said,” Carmen shot back. “And we both know it.”

A tense pause. Evelyn’s eyes flickered toward Richard in quiet warning before she turned back to Carmen.

“No one is questioning your work ethic,” Evelyn said, her tone smoother, more diplomatic. “But we do have to ask—where is the line?”

Carmen’s jaw tightened. “The line is where it has always been. I do my job. I do it well. And I do it with integrity.”

“Even when people say you’ve used this company as a—how shall I put this—personal dating service?” Richard mused.

Carmen’s stomach twisted, her pulse roaring in her ears.

“I have worked with hundreds of clients,” she said, voice steady. “One of them—one—became something more. Not because I sought it out. Not because I was unprofessional. But because I am human.”

Richard hummed in mock consideration. “And yet, here we are.”

Carmen tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement. “Tell me, Richard, if I were a man, would we be having this conversation?”

Richard said nothing.Elaine’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.

Carmen leaned forward, voice sharp. “Would we be dissecting my personal life like it’s company property? Would we be implying that every deal I made, every success I achieved, was somehow tied to the people I’ve been with? Or would we be discussing my qualifications, my leadership, and my ability to run this company?”

Richard’s smirk faltered. Carmen sat back, smoothing the fabric of her blazer. “I think we both know the answer.”

Evelyn studied her carefully before inclining her head. “Thank you, Carmen. That will be all.”

Carmen didn’t hesitate. She stood, straightened her shoulders, and strode toward the door, her heels clicking against the polished floor with every step. She didn’t allow herself to breathe until she was clear of the room.

The hallway was empty except for Tyler, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. He took one look at her and let out a slow breath. “How bad?”

She swallowed hard, the weight in her chest unbearable. “What happens if I don’t get it?”

He hesitated, and that hesitation said everything.

“The next CEO has the power to recreate the company in their own image,” he finally admitted.

She exhaled sharply. “Including getting rid of me.”

His silence was answer enough.

Carmen lifted her chin. “Noted.”

Then she walked away, refusing to let them see her break.

Alex: Call me.

Andrew rolled his eyes at his phone. He sat in the small wicker chair on Carmen’s balcony, the hum of the city wrapping around him like a familiar song. His guitar rested against his knee, a pick clenched between his teeth. A half-filled notebook lay open on the table, lyrics sprawled across the page in messy scrawl. His pen hovered just above the paper, his train of thought completely derailed by Alex’s text.

It was a stupid habit—texting to say call me instead of just calling. Normally, Andrew would have ignored it. They were supposed to be on vacation, after all. Alex got to go home, but Andrew… well, he tried not to think about it. The last thing he wanted was to answer the call and see his best friend sitting at his dining table, eating his biscuits, drinking whiskey with his brother.

But he’d given Alex a task: something to work on, something to build. And if there was anything Andrew loved more than a song in progress, it was hearing it come to life.

Sighing, he shut the notebook, snuffed out the cigarette in the ashtray, and grabbed his guitar. He made his way inside, where his laptop sat waiting on the coffee table beside a forgotten mug of tea. He’d brewed it that morning, intending to sip it through his biweekly therapy session, but the conversation had been light platitudes rather than deep dives.

He checked his reflection in the screen as the call connected. His damp curls had dried into loose waves, and his grey shirt was darkened at the shoulders from where his hair had soaked through. His glasses sat comfortably on his nose.

The moment Alex’s face popped up, Andrew grinned.

“Did you do it?”

Alex scoffed, shaking his head with a smirk. “Oi, whatever happened to hello? How are ya? You alright?”

“Shut up,” Andrew laughed, pulling his guitar onto his lap. “Did ya finish the track or what?”

Alex’s smirk widened as he angled his camera down, revealing the mixing console in front of him. “Yeah, and it’s good craic, too. Listen.”

Andrew sat back as the melody poured through the speakers, washing over him like an old memory. It was rough, unpolished, but there was something raw in it—something aching. His fingers tapped absently against his knee as he listened, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythm.

When the song ended, Alex raised a brow. “Well? You gonna say somethin’, or just sit there starin’ into the abyss?”

Andrew exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It’s… good. Really good. You pulled in that old riff I had, yeah?”

“Course I did. You think I wasn’t listening?” Alex scoffed. “Now, what about that poem you sent me?”

Andrew hesitated. His fingers hovered over his notebook, suddenly uncertain. The words on the page felt too personal now, too much. He swallowed, shaking his head. “I dunno, man. I wrote it, but—”

“But nothing,” Alex cut in. “It’s a song waiting to happen. You just need to let it.”

Andrew stared at the lyrics, his pulse quickening. He wasn’t sure he was ready to turn those feelings into music, to give them a melody, a permanence. But then again, that was the job, wasn’t it? And when had he ever been able to say no to a good song?

He let out a breath and reached for his guitar. “Alright. Play it back. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

But before he could so much as strum a chord, the front door swung open with a force that rattled the frame.

Andrew looked up, instinctively grinning at the sound of Carmen’s keys clattering onto the console table until he saw her.

Her face was pale, her mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as she kicked off her heels with frantic movements. She didn’t even look at him before rushing past, her shoes abandoned haphazardly by the door.

His stomach dropped.

“Andy? You still there?” Alex’s voice crackled through the speakers, but Andrew was already reaching for the laptop.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, ending the call without another word.

Carmen was halfway to the bedroom by the time he set his guitar aside. She didn’t slam the door, but the soft click of it shutting might as well have been a gunshot.

He hesitated for only a second before following.

Inside, he found her crumpled on the floor, back against the bed, knees drawn up like they were the only thing holding her together. She wasn’t sobbing. No heaving cries, no shaking shoulders. Just the quiet, steady flow of tears down her cheeks. Somehow, that was worse.

Andrew crouched beside her, resting a hand on her knee. She didn’t push him away. Instead, she let her head fall forward, eyes squeezing shut. He could feel the tension in her limbs, the effort to hold herself together. But she was slipping.

“It went that bad?” he asked softly.

She let out a bitter laugh, more of an exhale than a sound. “I blew it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

She shook her head, swallowing thickly. “They think I slept my way into this job. That I was never—. They think I—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I had to defend myself, Andrew. Like I was on trial. Like I had to prove I belonged there.”

His jaw clenched. Anger simmered low in his gut, but he pushed it aside. This wasn’t about him.

“I should’ve known,” she whispered. “I should’ve been more prepared.”

Andrew exhaled and shifted so they were shoulder to shoulder. “Carmen.” He waited until she looked at him, her eyes shining in the dim light. “You did what you always do. You handled it. You walked in there and faced them, even when they didn’t deserve a second of your time.”

She sniffled, giving him a watery smile. “Then why does it feel like I did everything wrong?”

“Because it’s unfair,” he admitted. “Because you’re exhausted. Because you shouldn’t have to fight so hard for something you already earned. But you’re still here, love.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. He let her.

“Tell me something,” she murmured after a while. “Anything.”

Andrew tilted his head back against the mattress, thinking. Then, with a small smile, he said, “Quincy’s been messing around with his honey bees again.”

She sniffled. “Yeah?”

“Trying to recreate those honey candies we got back home, remember?”

Her lips twitched, the first real sign of a smile. “The little shop on the corner?”

He nodded. “Aye. The one with the grumpy old man who said we were blocking the door. Quincy swears he’s close. Says he just needs the right balance of sweetness. I told him he’s talking about sugar, and he told me to piss off.”

A soft laugh escaped her, quiet and warm. She sighed, curling in closer to him. “God, I miss it there sometimes. Watching the sunrise with you. No pressure, no stress. Just… peace.”

Andrew swallowed. His gaze flickered to his suitcase—the one tucked neatly in the corner, hidden beneath a pile of clothes. Inside, wrapped carefully between layers of fabric, was a small velvet box.

Soon, he thought.

“We’re going back tomorrow,” he reminded her, like a promise. “But first”—he nudged her playfully—“you’ve got a final interview to nail.”

She groaned dramatically. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

He grinned. “You could always run away with me and become a beekeeper’s apprentice.”

She laughed, real and unguarded. “Oh, that’s definitely my dream job.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’d look good in one of those big mesh hats.” He paused, his eyes flickering over her for a moment before he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. “Wait, is it wrong that the thought of you in a beekeeper suit kinda does it for me?”

“Shut up!” She shoved him lightly, still laughing, and just like that, the heaviness in the room lifted, even if just for a little while.

Chapter Text

Carmen's forehead pressed to the glass as she watched the endless green blur by. She should have been enchanted by it — the cottages tucked into the hills, the lowing cows, the kind of landscape that felt painted more than real. If New York had a perfect opposite, it would be Wicklow. That should've been comforting, the break she needed — they both needed. And it would've worked to soothe her nerves had it not been less than twelve hours since she was sitting in a cold board room. A table like a crack cleaving a chasm between her, Tyler, and Evelyn.

The inherited founder of Nova glanced at Tyler before a tight smile pulled at her lips. Her expression gave nothing else away, which unnerved Carmen. She forced steel in her spine to not squirm in her seat. "So, Carmen," she started, lacing her fingers together. "Why do you want this position?"

Andrew's fingers tensed in her grip, warm stability anchoring her to the present. “You’re miles away, love.”

She tried for a smile, but it wavered. “Sorry I just… I was thinking." One glance from Andrew and she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out, "If they really wanted me, they wouldn't just send me away, right? They could've offered it to me right then if that's what they wanted. Like why did they just let me leave? I haven't even heard from Tyler since and he's always kept me updated and—"

“Carmen.” His tone was soft, steady. She glanced over, and he was already watching her. His eyes softened at her pursed lips and glassy, tear-slicked eyes. “You and I both know you were brilliant. Tyler knows too. You've got nothing to prove anymore."

Her throat tightened. She wanted to believe him, to climb out of her head and into the rolling hills outside the window, but the anxious hum beneath her ribs was relentless.

Andrew drummed the steering wheel, mischief curling at the corner of his mouth. “Come on. I know just the cure.”

The cure, as it turned out, was bees.

Quincy, with his skin browned by sun and years of tending hives, welcomed them to his apiary from the driveway. He pulled Andrew into a quick hug before directing his attention to Carmen. Remembering her flinch and rigidity in her body when he'd last hugged her, he offered her a hand instead. Andrew's heart softened when Carmen accepted it. Her hand was small and delicate in the beekeeper's grasp and he covered it with his other hand. A golden tooth glimmered in his smile. After a gentle squeeze, he released her hand.

"Welcome home. The hives'll be right glad to see ya." He said, escorting them through the back door to outfit them both in white mesh suits. Chuckling as Andrew fussed with the zipper on Carmen’s veil, he added, "Sorry Car, I still haven't gotten a smaller suit in for ya."

Carmen laughed as she tugged the mesh hood over her head, the netting bobbing awkwardly against her shoulders. She glanced at the dirt caked mirror over his shoulder. “I look like a ghostbuster."

“You look perfect,” Andrew teased, tying the strings at her wrist with a grin too wide to be trusted. “Proper beekeeper’s apprentice.”

She scoffed and turned to Quincy. "He's just saying that because it's one of his guilty little fantasies."

The laugh he let out was like a crack of thunder. His shoulders rumbled with it as he patted Andrew's shoulder. "I did warn you he's always been a weird one."

The hives stretched in neat little rows, their hum constant and alive. Andrew moved among them with reverence, as though greeting old friends. Carmen followed, still clumsy in the suit, but she couldn’t help watching him — the ease in his body, the way his hands moved gently, careful but sure.

They followed Quincy to the hives, the low hum of thousands of bees filling the still air. Carmen’s heart fluttered at first—the sheer volume of them—but Andrew’s hand brushed against her lower back, a constant reassurance. Quincy smoked the bees, lifted frames heavy with honeycomb. Andrew moved among them with reverence, as though greeting old friends. Carmen followed, still clumsy in the suit, but she couldn’t help watching him — the ease in his body, the way his hands moved gently, careful but sure. It was too perfect of a shot not to take. She slipped her camera from where it hung — where it always hangs these days — on its strap around her shoulder. The camera clicked softly at frames of both men working in tandem.

"I want this job, because I've earned it."

She glanced over at Tyler. Despite the rigidness of his botoxed face, his lips tightened to a smile. His head tipped with invitation. Go on, it said. You got this, it assured. It's already yours, it promised. She turned her attention back to Evelyn. Her empty grin faltering.

"Everyone else has too. But what makes you stand out?"

"Check this one," Quincy called at the end of a row. She blinked, dragging herself back to the present. In his hand, he offered a piece of cracked honeycomb. "Got some heather honey ready here, if you wanna give it a taste."

When he cracked a comb and offered them each a taste, Andrew leaned close and grinned. "You'll love this one."

She raised her gloved hand, sticky with golden honey, and tried to lick it through the mesh before realizing her mistake. Andrew’s laugh was warm and unguarded, bouncing off the hillside. “Here, hold still.” He pulled off his own glove, tugged her veil just enough to slip a finger in. Instead of offering it straight to her waiting tongue, he smeared a streak of honey across her cheek.

Carmen gasped. “You did not just—”

Her words were cut short as he leaned in and kissed it off, slow and deliberate. When his lips trailed to hers , the sweetness melted from his tongue to fill her mouth with the sticky sugar. Weakness nearly collapsed Carmen's knees. Quincy pretended not to notice, turning back to his bees with a mutter about “young people.”

Pulling away, a wicked grin painted on his face, he questioned, "Sweet, isn't it?"

"Not in front of the bees!" Carmen shoved Andrew lightly, her cheeks burning under the mesh. He only grinned wider, licking his thumb.

By the time they'd finished collecting the honey, afternoon light slanted through the trees and left a golden sheen on the white hive nests. Carmen fussed with her camera, scrolling through the shots she'd caught. Already, she thought of ways they could use it for advertising. It was enough footage and clips to even create an entire promotional video. As Andrew jarred the honey, she transferred the pictures to her phone to send to Hazel with her suggestions.

"My work speaks for itself. Look at all the most successful campaigns in the past five years. That was me." Pride swelled in her chest and, once glance at Tyler's sparkling eyes, she finished with, "I don't just work hard. I live for this."

Evelyn nodded. For a split second, Carmen could've swore she seemed almost impressed. A glimmer of a genuine smile twitched the corners of her lips upward. It was gone as quickly as it appeared. Like a balloon deflating, Carmen felt her pride slip away from her as Evelyn said, "It's not just about the highest of highs, Carmen. I am a strong believer that people's true capabilities are shown by how they handle their failures rather than their successes. Only at their worst do you see who people really are." She clicked her pen and flipped open her notepad, all efforts of cordiality falling from her face. "Apart from your Jack episode, what would you say has been the most challenging part of your career here? "

Andrew must have felt her tense. He squeezed her fingers, pulling out of Quincy's driveway. “What’s happenin’ in that head of yours now?”

"Sorry," she sighed and shook her head. "I'm trying. I just—"

He shushed her gently, rubbing a small circle on the back of her hand. "I know love. I know."

Andrew's house smelled faintly of wood smoke and herbs when they arrived, the scent comforting and grounding. Raine had already arrived, her car parked crookedly in the gravel, a basket of fresh bread tucked under her arm. She paused her cooking at their arrival through the front door. Her hands left puffs of white flour on her apron.

“You two look like you’ve been out chasing bees all day,” Raine said, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she examined Carmen’s fussy hair and Andrew’s smudged sleeves.

“Ma,” Andrew grinned, hugging her. Carmen’s heart warmed at the easy way he folded into his mother’s arms. Raine’s eyes, bright and sharp, turned next to Carmen.

“Good to see you again, dearie." Her smile was all warmth and tenderness. "I bet he's kept you starved up there with all those bugs. C'mon, stew's just about ready.”

Dinner was laughter and easy conversation. Raine teased Andrew about leaving muddy boots at the door. Andrew played along, groaning about “never living it down.” Carmen smiled, but her mind drifted — Evelyn’s smile, Tyler’s silence. The crackling tension of the interview still lived under her ribs.

"I've gotta say, being constantly defined by my trauma has been my biggest failure. If you'd only give me a chance, I promise I can show you that I'm more than just that." She paused to look Evelyn square in the eye. A fire smoldered in her glare as she added, "So much more."

Andrew’s hand brushed her thigh under the table. His thumb traced absent circles until her shoulders dropped. Raine was telling a story about Andrew’s first time on stage, but Carmen only half-heard. What she did feel was Andrew grounding her, reminding her she was here, not there.

When Raine left with kisses and leftovers, Andrew sagged against the doorframe, exhaustion in the set of his shoulders. He hadn’t said it aloud, but Carmen could see it — the way his body relished stillness. Time away from the road.

“You don’t want to go back,” she murmured.

He looked at her, then away, scratching his jaw. “Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

He pushed himself from the door and started towards the kitchen. Her lips pursed when he immediately reached for the bottle of whiskey glittering under the kitchen lights. The clinking of the glass against the marble countertop seemed to echo in the empty space. He didn't meet her eyes as he raised the glass to his lips. She couldn't even fault him. Not really. She sighed and slid into the bar stool across from him. Leaning on her elbows, she ran her hands down her face, then said, “What if we really did it? Ran away. Lived here. Beekeepers, bakers, whatever.”

He chuckled over his glass. “You? Live here? You’d be bored stiff after a week.”

“Would not,” she insisted, lips twitching.

“You’d miss the city.” He tossed back the remained of his glass. “And your job."

She shrugged. "Dublin's close enough and I'm sure I can work remotely. I mean I've been doing it for however long now following you."

"Can't run a company like that from a couch, love," he assured, lips tilting up.

"I'm not running any company."

"Yet."

"Or never." She attempted to laug to keep the sadness from her tone as she finally spoke the words aloud. It did nothing to hide the sinking in her chest.

As if he heard the sound of her heart falling, he cleared his throat, adding, "And I think the fans would send search parties if I just up and disappeared now."

"True," she sighed. "We can't just deprive the world of a new Hozier album."

He chuckled quieted and drifted past Carmen towards the living room. His guitar still laid in the exact position he'd left it in across the couch. As if no time had passed, he settled back in his favorite spot and slung the guitar across his shoulders. She didn't need an invitation to join him. The acoustics in the room filled the house with his strumming effortlessly. Carmen simply sat there for a beat and watched him play.

The music was enough to keep her mind from wandering. But it was a doorway for his to escape through. He fingered the strings absently, playing the same melody he'd sent Alex days ago. His strumming carried it out, made it larger than the room, shrank it to be as small as the strings themselves. He lost himself in it. When he felt Carmen moving closer, he moved over to make room, not dropping a single note. His eyes fluttered shut as he hummed the words he'd written about ten times over already.

"Stay right there," Carmen's voice whispered through the music. He continued playing but, when he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the metallic lens of a camera.

“You filming me?” he questioned, nodding toward the lens.

"And if I was?" she shot back with a giggle.

"I'm not much of a model." He said, motioning to his travel worn outfit. "Especially not like this."

She lifted her camera, squinting at the tiny screen until his image flickered into place. Through it, he seemed suspended in light — curls falling across his brow, lips forming a tired smile. Something inside her squeezed.

“I beg to differ. You look…” she started, then flushed. “Beautiful.”

His gaze snapped up, catching hers through the lens. “Not me, love. You.”

Her laugh was embarrassed, shaky. But before she could lower the camera, he was crossing the floor, tugging it gently from her hands. The world flipped, her own face now glowing in the screen.

“Andrew,” she groaned, half hiding behind her hands.

His voice was soft, coaxing. “Let me see you.”

She dropped her hands slowly. The image that stared back wasn’t the nervous, faltering version of herself she always carried in her head. Through his lens, she looked softer. Alive. Andrew’s thumb hovered on the record button. For the smallest breath, he considered it — considered capturing this forever, considered pulling the velvet box from his suitcase and letting everything spill.

“Andrew…” Her voice wavered, dissolving his thought. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm—" She cut herself off, flushing.

He lowered the camera just enough to meet her eyes. “Like you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

Her chest squeezed and words faltered. The camera clattered gently onto the table as he stepped into her space and kissed her, soft at first, then hungry, coaxing her lips apart with his tongue. Carmen tugged him down until her back hit the rug, laughter bubbling when he landed half on top of her.

“Andy!” she squeaked breathlessly.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, voice already roughened. His fingers skimmed beneath her shirt, teasing warmth across her skin. "Please, let me…"

Her hands tangled in his curls, pulling him closer. "Yes."

Their clothes fell away in pieces, slow and clumsy, laughter dissolving into sighs. Honey still lingered faint on his tongue, dizzying. He bent, lips closing around her nipple, his tongue circling slowly, deliberately, as his hand slid up her thigh. She gasped, hips arching once his fingers circled her clit. He murmured against her skin, “That’s it. Just feel.”

"Andrew, please," she whispered, nipping at his lip.

His mouth replaced his words, kissing down her stomach, his tongue finding her slow and steady. She gasped, hips jerking, but his hands pinned her gently, anchoring her.

“That’s it,” he murmured between strokes. “Just let go. You taste better than honey, love.”

Her moans filled the room, her body trembling as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it broke over her, sharp and sweet.

She dragged him up by the shoulders, kissing him hard, tasting herself on his tongue. He lined himself against her, pausing. “Tell me you want this.”

"I want you," she breathed.

When he finally slid into her, it was slow — reverent, almost aching. Carmen gasped, clutching at his shoulders, her body arching to meet him. The world outside narrowed to his breath against her ear, his weight anchoring her, their hands locked tight above her head.

“Yes,” she gasped, clinging to him.

They moved together, hips slowly grinding against the others. Soft laughter and sighs tangled with moans. He guided her with words—“That’s it, love, ride it out… You’re incredible, don’t stop, I’ve got you”—until she unraveled beneath him again, pulling him over the edge with her.

After, they lay tangled in the soft hush of the room, their bodies sticky with heat, the little camera still glowing faintly a few feet away. Carmen turned her head toward it, chest rising and falling.

"I really really hope you didn't just record that," she chuckled softly, but didn't move to check.

He pushed up on his elbow, using his free hand to push his loose curls from his face. Thankfully, the red record button was off. He let out a sigh, joking, "Pretty sure no one wants to see my pale arse in their faces. You, on the other hand…" His voice drifted off as he kissed her, tongue lapping into hers with a heat that promised more. He pulled away to whisper against her lips. "I'd pay good money just for a look."

"You technically did." She smiled, running her hand through his curls. Her fingers scratched gently against his scalp and he moaned. "As a publicist, I do not come cheap."

"Mm." He smirked, placing another short kiss on her lips before he began to slip back down her body. "But I bet I make you cum again."

She laughed softly and pulled him back up. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom." He agreed.