Bailey Glass POV:

"Go live your life, Bailey. You deserve all the happiness in the world." Dr. Evans' words were a benediction, a blessing I hadn' t realized I desperately needed.

I walked out of her office, a lightness in my step I hadn't felt in years. The air outside, usually heavy with the exhaust of LA traffic, felt crisp, clean. August was gone. He must have returned to whatever urgent crisis had called him away from his attempts to corner me. His priorities, as always, were clear.

A nurse, a sweet woman I'd come to know over my many visits, stopped me at the desk. "Ms. Glass? Mr. Carter left a message for you before he left."

My heart gave a faint thud. Here it comes. The last gasp of a dying relationship. "Oh?"

"He said… he had to go back to set, but he'd make it up to you for your birthday. And that he loved you very much." She smiled, a little wistfully. "You're so lucky, Ms. Glass. He's so handsome, and he clearly adores you."

A bitter laugh threatened to escape. Lucky? Adored? I just managed a tight, polite smile. "Thank you for the message."

Lucky? I thought. I didn't feel lucky. I felt like a fishbone stuck in someone's throat. A persistent, painful irritation that wouldn't go away. But now, it was gone. The bone was out. And I was finally free.

The next morning, I boarded my flight. Back to Portland. Back to Faith.

Faith. My best friend. My rock. She was waiting for me at the arrival gate, a huge smile on her face, her arms open wide. She owned a popular bar in downtown Portland, a successful businesswoman who was as fierce as she was loyal.

I ran to her, wrapping my arms around her in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, Faith," I whispered, burying my face in her shoulder.

"Took you long enough, you idiot," she said, her voice gruff, but I could feel the tremor in it. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length, her eyes scanning my face. "You look like hell. But… better."

"I am better," I said, a genuine smile forming.

"Good. Because that ass-hat August Carter never deserved you," she declared, loud enough for a few curious passersby to turn their heads. "The minute I met him, I knew he was trouble. All charm and no substance."

"You're the only one who ever said that, you know," I said, a fond smile on my face. "Everyone else thought he was Prince Charming."

Faith snorted. "Everyone else is blind. Listen, he' s going to regret losing you. Mark my words. He' s going to crawl back, begging. And you, my dear, are going to be too busy living your best life to even notice."

Her words were a balm to my raw soul. Faith had always been my fierce protector, my unwavering champion. Her certainty, her belief in me, was infectious. The last vestiges of doubt began to crumble.

"Now," she said, linking her arm through mine, her smile mischievous. "Let's get you home. And then, we're going out. Tonight, we're celebrating your freedom. We're going to erase every single memory of that toxic waste dump of a relationship. And you're going to remember what it's like to laugh, to flirt, to just be."

Bailey Glass POV:

"And you're going to remember what it's like to laugh, to flirt, to just be." Faith' s words were a prophecy I was ready to fulfill.

Faith owned "The Phoenix," a trendy bar in the heart of Portland. It was always bustling, full of laughter and good cheer. Tonight, she' d pulled out all the stops. We were in her private VIP lounge, a plush, dimly lit space tucked away from the main floor. The finest champagne flowed freely.

"Tonight is all about you, my love," she declared, pushing a chilled glass into my hand. "No budget. No worries. Just pure, unadulterated fun."

Then, she snapped her fingers, and a parade of handsome men entered the lounge. "These are for you," she said, a wicked glint in her eye. "My finest 'companions.' Their sole mission tonight is to make you smile. And flirt. Heavily."

I stared at the men, a mix of models, charming artists, and witty intellectuals. They were all gorgeous, attentive, and perfectly willing to engage in harmless flattery. They were everything August wasn't. And for the first time in a long time, I felt a genuine laugh bubble up.

August would never have tolerated this, I thought, a strange sense of liberation washing over me. He would have been jealous, possessive. He would have found fault with every single one of them. But tonight, I didn't care.

The men surrounded me, vying for my attention, making me feel beautiful and desired. It was shallow, perhaps, but after years of feeling invisible, it was a much-needed ego boost. I drank, I laughed, I danced. The haze of August, of Hollywood, of insecurity, began to lift.

Hours later, Faith grabbed my arm. "Bathroom break!" she yelled over the music.

We weaved through the crowded bar, finally reaching the quieter hallway leading to the restrooms. Faith disappeared inside, leaving me leaning against the cool wall, trying to catch my breath. The music was still a distant thrum, but here, it was almost peaceful.

I turned to check my reflection in a decorative mirror, touching up my lipstick. As I turned back, I collided with someone. Hard.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" I gasped, stumbling back.

A man stood before me. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, with eyes that were the color of warm honey. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd just run a hand through it, giving him a charming, disheveled look. He had a strong jawline, a straight nose, and lips that looked like they were sculpted into a perpetual, gentle curve. He was, quite simply, breathtaking.

My breath hitched. Who is this man? My mind screamed. And why is Faith hiding him from me? He was a vision, a walking, talking masterpiece. Even in my slightly tipsy state, I knew he was perfect.

"No worries," he said, his voice a low, melodic rumble. "Are you alright?"

My heart did a strange flip-flop. His voice was like warm velvet. Even his voice is perfect, I thought, a little deliriously.

"I'm fine," I managed, a little too breathlessly. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. "Actually," I said, a bold impulse seizing me, "I was just wondering… what's your story?" I winked, confident in my assessment that he was one of Faith's hired charmers.

He blinked, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "My story?"

"Yeah," I pressed, feeling emboldened. "Like, what's your specialty? Are you a struggling artist? A poet? Trust me, Faith pays well."

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made my stomach flutter. "I… I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm actually an architect."

My eyes widened. "An architect? Wow. Faith really upped her game this time!" I leaned in conspiratorially. "So, you're like, a highly educated companion? Impressive. Very impressive."

He looked even more confused, but a small smile played on his lips. "I have a doctorate, yes."

A doctorate?! My jaw nearly dropped. He was practically a genius! Faith was really going all out. "Well, Dr. Architect," I said, my voice playful. "Will you join me for a drink? My treat."

He hesitated, glancing towards the main bar, then back at me. A slow smile spread across his face. "I suppose… one drink wouldn't hurt."

I beamed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards our VIP lounge. "Come on! You're going to love my friends."

We walked back into the opulent lounge, the music momentarily forgotten. My companions, all professional charmers, immediately greeted him.

"Welcome, Jasper!" one of them announced, mistaking his hesitant entry for another hired hand. "The more the merrier!"

Jasper. So that was his name. He looked utterly bewildered, opening his mouth to speak, then closing it again. The music, thankfully or unthankfully, was just too loud. His attempts at explanation were swallowed by the bass.

I, meanwhile, was delighted. I clapped my hands. "Let's play a game! Truth or Dare!" I pulled him onto a vacant sofa, pouring him a drink. He sat stiffly at first, then, slowly, a reluctant smile touched his lips.

Just as I was about to dare him to sing a terrible karaoke song, the lounge door burst open. Faith stood there, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. She stared at me, then at Jasper, then back at me, her expression a mixture of shock and utter disbelief.

"Bailey Glass!" she shrieked, her voice cutting through the thumping music. "What in God's name are you doing?"