Chapter 23

FREYA’S POV

I was curled up on the couch when Brandon got home. The news was playing in the background, but I wasn’t really watching. i had read the same line in my book four times and still couldn’t tell you what it said. My mind kept drifting—backward, sideways, never forward. The air was thick with that subtle kind of silence that settles right before something is said. I felt it the second he walked through the door.

He greeted me with a quiet “Hey,” setting his briefcase down near the console table and slipping off his shoes. His tie was already loosed around his neck, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Tired, but not defeated. That was how Brandon always looked at the end of a long day—like a man who had stared down chaos and came out of it still standing.

“Long day?” I asked, marking my page even though I hadn’t really read anything.

“You could say that,” he replied, heading to the kitchen. I heard the soft clink of glass, the pour of water. No wine tonight. Interesting.

I waited, pulling the blanket a little tighter around my legs. He came back and sat on the armchair across from me, resting his drink on the side table.

“We need to talk,” he said, not unkindly. Just straightforward. As always.

My stomach did a small flip. “Okay.”

“There’s a company dinner on Thursday night. One of those elegant, unnecessary PR stunts we’re supposed to pretend we enjoy.”

I raised a brow. “And let me guess—you’re the centerpiece?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Something like that.”

“And you want me to be your date?”

“I want you there with me,” he corrected gently.

I hesitated. I knew this conversation was coming. The dinner party, the public appearance, the smile-for-the-cameras façade. Brandon rarely asked me to attend these events—he knew how much I hated the spotlight, the schmoozing, the endless small talk—but when he did, it was never for nothing. 

Especially with my history with Bryan.

Still, I took a breath and asked anyway. “Is Bryan going to be there?”

Brandon didn’t answer right away. That silence? That told me everything.

“Yes,” he said finally, meeting my gaze. “He’s consulting for one of our partners now. He and Rachelle are both on the guest list and he is also a board member and shareholder.”

Just hearing their names sent a chill down my spine.

“I figured,” I murmured, looking away. The blanket suddenly felt suffocating around my legs, so I threw it off and stood, walking slowly to the window. The city lights blinked back at me, each one a pinprick in the dark.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said behind me, voice quieter now. “If it’s too much, if it’s going to make you uncomfortable—”

“Of course it’ll make me uncomfortable.” I turned to face him. “You think I want to be in the same room with them? Smile like we’re old friends while Rachelle pretends she didn’t help ruin everything and Bryan watches me like I’m a ghost from his past?”

Brandon stood too, crossing the room in a few long strides. “I know. I don’t like it either. But it’s not just about them. It’s about us.”

That stopped me. My breath caught a little.

“They’ll be there,” he continued, “and I want them to see you. With me. I want everyone to see that no matter what happened back then, no matter what they try to stir up now, we’re still standing.”

His words were steady, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. He was asking more than a favor—he was asking for a front.

A united one.

“Brandon…” I started, but then stopped. Because a part of me wanted to say yes. Not out of pride, not out of some need to prove something to Bryan or Rachel. But because I wanted to remind myself that I was no longer the woman they broke. I’d survived. I’d built something better with Brandon. We both had.

Still, the fear clawed at me. Not the kind that makes you run—but the kind that freezes you just enough to hesitate. To wonder if you’re really as strong as you think you are.

“I don’t want to fall apart in front of them,” I said softly.

“You won’t.” Brandon stepped closer and reached for my hand. “And if you do, I’ll be right there. We’re not going into this alone, Freya. Not anymore.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet patience in the way he waited for me to decide. He wasn’t forcing me. He never had. But he was asking.

And after everything we’d been through—the buried past, the near-shattered trust, the pieces we’d picked up one by one—I owed him the same courage he gave me.

“Okay,” I said finally, my voice steady this time. “I’ll go with you.”

Relief softened his expression, but he didn’t smile—just nodded, like he knew what it cost me to say yes. And maybe he did.

“Thank you,” he said.

I squeezed his hand. “You owe me a real date after this. One without suits or speeches.”

“You got it.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Just say the word.”

We stood there for a while, letting the quiet settle again—but this time, it was a peaceful kind of silence, not the one full of things unsaid.

I eventually pulled away and walked toward the bedroom, already mentally going through my closet. “What’s the dress code?”

“Formal.”

“Of course it is.”

“You’ll be the most stunning woman in the room.”

I paused in the doorway and glanced over my shoulder. “Brandon?”

“Yeah?”

“If she tries anything—Rachel, I mean—I won’t hold back.”

His smile was slow and a little dangerous. “I’m counting on it.”

Thursday loomed closer with every passing day, but for the first time, I wasn’t dreading it like I thought I would. There was still a knot in my stomach, sure, but it wasn’t fear anymore.

It was resolve.

Because Brandon and I had already survived the worst. And now, we weren’t just surviving.

We were choosing each other—again, and again, and again. And despite all this madness it drew us closer

Even if it meant walking into a room full of ghosts, we’d do it together.

And that made all the difference.