Fallon
If one more person asked me where my husband was, I was going to scream.
The award event was glamorous — all glittering lights, designer gowns, and the hum of excitement in the air. It should’ve been perfect. A night to celebrate, network, and remind the world why I was good at this.
But all anyone wanted to talk about was Reid.
“Fallon! Fallon, over here!”
The photographers called out from the sidelines, their cameras flashing in quick bursts as I stepped onto the red carpet. I smiled — the one I’d perfected years ago, the one that said I’m fine even when I wasn’t — and posed, my dress flowing like liquid ink around me.
But the questions started almost immediately.
“Fallon! Looking stunning tonight! But we have to ask — where’s Reid?”
The smile never wavered. But my fingers
