Keira
I woke up at seven to make sure I had time to review my notes before the interview, my stomach a tangled knot of nerves that had nothing to do with cameras or scandal for the first time in what felt like forever, just the ordinary, uncomplicated anxiety of wanting something badly enough that the wanting itself felt fragile.
Ryder made coffee while I ran through my talking points one final time, the apartment quiet except for the soft hum of the espresso machine and my own murmured practice answers.
"You've got this," he said, setting a mug down beside my laptop. "Whatever happens, you've earned this shot."
"Thank you." I squeezed his hand once before he headed off to get ready for the ring ceremony himself, leaving me alone with my nerves and the countdown to ten o'clock.
The in
