I Gave Up My Career for Him, Until I Walked Away for Good

"Are you really willing to give this up?"

Marcy Kowalski had been my agent for six years. She had never once asked me a question twice. Now she leaned across her glass desk, tapping the contract with one red nail.

"Ivy. Look at me. This is the lead in a Desmond Ruiz film. Do you know how many girls would kill for this?"

I stared at the signature line. Three years. I had waited three years for a role like this.

"I know."

"Then sign it."

"Adrian's movie starts shooting next month," I said. "His mom just had her second fall. He needs someone at home."

"He needs a *housekeeper*." Marcy's voice went flat. "Hire one. You're an actress."

"He needs me."

She sat back and laughed. It wasn't a kind laugh. "Honey, men like Adrian Cole don't need anyone. They just get used to having someone."

I picked up the contract. The paper felt heavier than it should have.

Then I tore it in half.

Marcy didn't move. She didn't yell. She just watched me tear it again, and again, until the pieces fell on her desk like confetti at a party nobody wanted to go to.

"I want to be with him," I said.

"Okay." She swept the scraps into her trash can with one hand. "Don't call me in five years and cry."

---

I didn't call her in five years.

I was too busy.

I learned Adrian's schedule better than his assistant did. I cooked his meals, low-carb during shoots and comfort food after. I drove his mother to physical therapy every Tuesday and Thursday. I stood beside him on red carpets in dresses that made me look supportive, not stunning. When a critic shredded his performance, I read the review first so I could soften it before he saw it.

The tabloids called me "Hollywood's Perfect Partner."

Nobody called me an actress anymore.

"Adrian," I said one night, rubbing lotion into my hands at the vanity. "My cousin's getting married in June."

He didn't glance up from his script. "That's nice."

"We've been together five years."

"Mm-hm."

"I was thinking maybe we could set a date. Even a small one. Just family."

The pages stopped turning.

He set the script on his chest and smiled at me in the mirror. It was his press smile. Warm. Practiced. "Babe. You know the timing's wrong. This next film could change everything for me."

"You said that about the last one."

"And the last one got me here." He reached out, caught my wrist, and pulled me onto the bed beside him. "After this. I promise. Okay?"

His thumb traced circles on the back of my hand.

I nodded. I always nodded.

---

The new film was called *Northbound*. His co-star was Sienna Marsh, twenty-four years old and everywhere at once.

At first it was one photo. Adrian and Sienna laughing at a table read.

Then a video. Her arms around his neck at a fan event.

Then a headline: *Adrian & Sienna: Hollywood's Hottest New Pair?*

I was folding his shirts when his mother, Margaret, wheeled into the laundry room holding her tablet.

"Have you seen this?" She turned the screen toward me. Sienna, kissing Adrian's cheek on a talk show couch. "That girl is all over my son."

"It's for the movie," I said.

"Is it?" Margaret's eyes narrowed. "When his father said things were 'for work,' I ended up raising a boy alone."

I smoothed a collar that was already smooth.

---

Adrian came home past midnight. I was waiting in the kitchen with the lights on.

"Hey." He dropped his keys in the bowl. "You're up late."

"You held her hand on the red carpet tonight."

He paused halfway through loosening his tie. "What?"

"Sienna. You held her hand. For the whole walk." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "And yesterday you had your arm around her waist at the photo call. And on Monday—"

"Ivy."

"—she sat on your lap at the press junket, Adrian. On your *lap*."

He laughed.

Not a nervous laugh. A real one, like I had told him a joke. He crossed the kitchen in three steps and wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"You're jealous," he said into my ear. "That's kind of cute."

"I'm not being cute. I'm asking if it's too much."

"It's promo, babe. The studio wants chemistry. Chemistry sells tickets." He kissed my neck. "You were in this business. You know how it works."

*Were.* He said it so easily.

"Do you remember what I gave up?" I asked.

His arms loosened, just a little. "Of course I remember."

"Then don't make me feel stupid for it."

"Hey." He turned me around and cupped my face. His eyes were soft and brown and sincere. They had always been his best feature on camera. "You're the only woman I come home to. Sienna is a coworker. That's it. Trust me?"

I searched his face for a long time.

"Okay," I whispered. "I trust you."

"That's my girl." He kissed my forehead and headed upstairs. "I'm gonna shower. Long day."

---

His phone was still on the counter.

I wasn't going to touch it. I had never once gone through his phone in five years. I picked up his keys to put them away properly, the way I always did, and the screen lit up beside my hand.

A message preview.

**Sienna 🌙**

I didn't mean to read it. My eyes did it before my brain could stop them.

*Are you staying at my place again tonight? She won't find out.*

The keys slipped out of my fingers and hit the marble floor.

Upstairs, the shower was running.

And Adrian was humming.