Page 127 of Until The Lights Go Out

“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands in defeat.

She beamed at her victory, but it faded quickly as she exhaled. “What did Simmons say?”

I sighed dramatically before leaning back against the door. “That I’m an idiot.”

“Correct.”

“But apparently,” I continued, ignoring her, “I’m an idiot who made the right call.”

That got her attention. Her expression softened immediately, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

“He said that?”

“Well…” I replied, loosening my hoodie as I walked farther into the suite. “Turns out he had some of his own hardships, and he was incredibly understanding and said he would have done the same if it were his wife. And maybe something about if I ever vanish before lights out again, he’ll personally murder me.”

Maisey let out a startled laugh, hand covering her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“He also said I’m not expected back until Thursday, strictly instructed that I must stay with you and rest actually.”

Her brows lifted. “Seriously?”

“Mmhm.” I stepped closer again until my hands found her hips. “Three whole days.” The words should’ve sounded exciting, but I watched the worry creep back over her face almost instantly.

“I still missed all my interviews yesterday,” she muttered, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I need to call Evan and message Andrea about a backup vlog. This is such a mess. I really just made a mess of it all.” She was shaking her head now and leaning into my chest.

“You’re a really, really beautiful mess, if that helps?” I added, and she slapped my chest in response, making my heart soar. I loved a feisty Maisey.

“No, it does not help!” She rolled her eyes and twisted out of my arms, running to the side table and picking up her phone. “I need to fix this somehow. God, this is such a disaster.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“I literally disappeared on the 10-year anniversary of the crash, Theo. People noticed.” Her voice dropped quieter at the end, eyes fixed on her screen now. “And now you disappeared too, which somehow made it worse.” I hated the way she said the word “crash” so carefully, like it still cut her mouth on the way out.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said softly.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, glassy for half a second before she looked away again. “Tell that to my management team.”

I watched her pace barefoot across the room, sweater sleeves swallowing her hands while she typed furiously. The late-afternoon light spilled through the windows, turning her skin gold and catching in the mess of her hair. She looked exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted.

Then suddenly, she stopped moving.

A slow smile spread across her face.

“No.” I pointed at her. “Absolutely not.”

“We could film something.”

“No.”

“Theo.”

“Every time you say my name like that, I don’t trust you.”

She gasped dramatically. “Rude.”

“I got approval to not work! From my team principal!”

“But, for me?” she asked, making any excuses I had go right out the window. I would do anything for her, even if it was extra media. I groaned as she walked back toward me with that manipulative sparkle in her eye.