Page 95 of Archer

I typed back with shaking fingers.

Harper: Two minutes.

I released a breath and looked at Archer. “Showtime.”

He moved to my left, positioning himself where he could see the screen but stay invisible to the camera.

Now, all I had to do was complete the interview while acting naturally and lying.

Suddenly, the ring light felt more like a bulb on a string used for interrogation in old crime dramas. I had to tell the world that Archer and I weren’t together anymore. That I was single, ready, and available for another man’s love.

The concept churned my stomach.

The laptop hummed beneath my fingertips as I clicked the interview link. My reflection disappeared, replaced by a loading screen. Then David McKenzie materialized. David was in his early thirties with wire-rimmed glasses and the kind of easy smile that caused everyone to let their guard down.

Country Now was one of the bigger music blogs. Alexis had pulled some serious strings to land this interview.

“Harper! So good to see you.” David waved at the camera. “Thanks for making time for this.”

I smiled and channeled the version of myself who performed for crowds. The version who wasn’t completely anxious and a little terrified. “Thanks for having me.”

“I’ll keep this casual, nothing too intense. Sound good?”

“Perfect.”

He glanced at something off-screen. Notes, probably. “All right, let’s start with the big question everyone’s asking—where have you been?”

The laugh that came out of me sounded almost natural. “Well, David, I’ve been taking some much-needed time away. I’m not sure if you know this, but my grandmother passed earlier this year, and I realized I needed to take a step back and reconnect with what matters.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. She was an incredible woman.” The words flowed easier now, muscle memory from years of interviews. “Gram taught me to play guitar and introduced me to country music. She lived here, on the North Carolina coast. I’ve been staying at her cottage, trying to finish the songs I started before she died.”

David’s expression shifted to something sympathetic. “That must be difficult.”

“It has been. But it’s also healing.” I let myself glance over my shoulder, toward the ocean. Let the camera catch it. “Being here, surrounded by her things, hearing the crashing waves that I grew up falling asleep to, has helped me remember all the reasons I fell in love with music in the first place.”

He leaned forward, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “And you’re working on new material?”

“I am.”

Archer’s presence registered at the edge of my awareness, solid and steady as I spoke.

“I’ll admit the process was slow going at first, but I’m finding my voice again. And there’s inspiration everywhere here.”

“Can you give us any hints about what fans can expect?”

The song I’d written two nights prior flickered through my mind. “Of course. Well, as I mentioned, I’ve been through a lot these last few months, and that has definitely transferred into my music. These songs are different. They’re more personal and raw. At this point, I think I could write an entire album about survival and resilience. Never letting fear win.”

David’s expression sobered. “Speaking of fear, there have been some concerning rumors online. People speculating about why you left Nashville so suddenly. We didn’t know about your grandma, but I have to ask…was there something more that sent you away?”

My pulse hammered. “People always speculate. That’s natural and understandable. We try to make sense of why things change.”

“Fair enough.” His practiced smile returned. “But you’re okay? You’re safe?”

“I’m very okay.” I forced myself to hold his gaze through the camera. “I’m exactly where I need to be right now.”

“That’s good to hear.” He glanced at his notes again. “Let’s talk about your personal life for a second. There have been rumors of a new boyfriend. You were with Blake Stewart for some time. Now, there’s someone new. Tell us about him.”