Page 103 of Knot on the Market

"And what do you think of Hollywood?" the reporter continues. "Are you planning to relocate? We'd love to see more of you all on the LA scene."

"We will be wherever Lila is," Julian answers with precise politeness, his voice carrying quiet authority. "She’s home."

Home.The word cuts through all the noise and spectacle to remind me what we're really doing here. Not reclaiming my place in this world, but saying goodbye to it. Publicly, definitively, with the men I want to build a completely different kind of life with.

"Any career plans? Project announcements?" the reporter persists.

I pause. Two months ago, I would have given a careful non-answer designed to keep options open. Tonight, with my real life standing beside me, the answer feels obvious.

"I'm looking forward to focusing on my personal life," I say clearly. "Building something lasting with the people who matter most."

As we escape into the relative calm of the theater lobby, I catch sight of something that makes me pause.

Three rows ahead in the premium seating, Dustin adjusts his perfectly tailored jacket. Jace and Theo flank him with synchronized movement, and beside them, clinging to Dustin's arm with obvious excitement, is Skye. Twenty-two and luminous with pure joy, wearing a dress that probably costs more than most people's cars.

Which reminds me, I need to return my rental and buy myself a car when I get back to Honeyridge Falls.

For just a moment, our eyes meet across the crowded theater. Dustin's gaze finds mine with a flicker of surprise, then his expression shifts to that familiar blend of condescension and mild amusement.

He looks exactly like what I expected. They all do. But looking at them now, I can see what I couldn't see when I was part of it. The careful distance they maintain even within their own pack bonds. Even their affection looks calculated, designed for cameras.

It's not wrong, exactly. It's just not what I ever wanted.

I don't nod back or acknowledge him. He simply exists in my peripheral vision while I focus on what actually matters. The solid warmth of Callum's hand in mine, Julian's quiet presence, Dean's protective energy.

"You okay?" Dean asks quietly, following my gaze.

"Perfect," I say, meaning it completely.

Inside the theater, the controlled chaos shifts to something more elegant but equally overwhelming. The ceremony itself passes in a blur of speeches and performances. Our film wins Best Cinematography and Best Original Screenplay, and loses Best Picture to a biographical drama.

During the cinematography win, when he thanks the entire production team, the cameras find me in the audience. I smile and applaud with genuine enthusiasm, proud of the work we did together.

I should feel disappointed about losing Best Picture. Two years ago, I would have. Tonight, I find myself thinking about the garden I want to plant behind our house, about learning to can vegetables and whether Dean would help me build raised beds for herbs.

"No regrets?" Julian asks during a commercial break, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

"None," I say, meaning it completely. "Well, maybe one small one."

"What's that?"

"I wish we could skip the after-parties and go back to the hotel. I'm ready to go home."

His smile is soft and understanding. "A few more hours. Then we're done with all this."

The after-party is exactly what I expected, beautiful people in expensive clothes networking with focused intensity while servers circulate with champagne and carefully curated canapés. The venue is gorgeous, all art deco elegance and strategic lighting, but it's also the last place I want to be.

"One hour," I murmur to Dean as we make our entrance. "We show our faces, I say goodbye to the people who matter, and then we're done."

"Whatever you need," he confirms, his hand finding mine automatically.

The next hour passes in a parade of air kisses and conversations that feel like performance art. Directors I used to work with approach with professional enthusiasm, calculating whether I might be available for future projects. Producers offer variations of the same sentiment, it's wonderful to see me looking so radiant, they hope I'll consider returning to work soon because the industry needs people like me.

People like me. Meaning people who understand that personal happiness should always be secondary to professional advancement.

"Lila James!"

Scott Brady, the documentary director, approaches with focused energy. I've always respected his commitment to important stories, which makes this conversation harder.

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