Jay and I ended up at a sleek rooftop restaurant, velvet-lined booths, soft jazz threading through the air, and a view of the skyline framed like a painting.
The kind of place where celebrities could breathe, eat medium-rare steak, and not worry about paparazzi lurking behind wine glasses. Jay said I needed this. A real meal. A moment to feel normal again. And maybe, he was right.
Lunch started off light. We talked about music, travel, a dream he had where he accidentally officiated a wedding between two cats. He made me laugh, the kind of laugh that started in your chest and shook loose all the tension you didn’t realize you were carrying.
"You good?" Jay asked, swirling the straw in his mocktail. "Like actually good?"
I nodded. "I think so. Just... adjusting."
"Yeah," he said. "You
