machine. And signing on with his agency had been one of the best decisions I’d ever made.
He believed in me. And perhaps that was the only encouragement I needed to push toward my next goal.
“Hey.” He came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders while I reached for a spatula. “What do you think about skipping the chicken tonight and going out to eat instead? I’m craving that little Italian place downtown, the one with the breaded artichokes and fresh caprese salad.” He brushed my hair off my back and planted a kiss to my neck. “We can continue this conversation over a nice plate of veal parmesan. And, bonus, there’ll be no dishes needing to be washed.”
I glanced down at the chicken I’d been marinating all day, based on a recipe I’d chosen a week ago when he told me he’d be flying into town tonight. “I do love that place, but I’ve been looking forward to trying this chicken out all week, and—”
He spun me around and touched my chin. “Babe, once this deal goes through, the only meals you’ll ever want to try will be cooked by professional chefs. Come on, let me treat you tonight. I’m proud of you.” He went to the door and shrugged on his jacket before removing my blush cardigan from the rustic wall hook and holding it open. “After all, it’s not every day I get to celebrate the accomplishments of my best client, who also happens to be my beautiful girlfriend.”
2
Molly
“I need a cause.” The words reverberated off the gymnasium walls as if I’d spoken them through a megaphone.
My brother wiped the sweat off his brow with the hem of his shirt—why are guys so gross?—and twisted to find me blazing a trail on the polished floor in my taupe booties. Though Miles worked to school his surprise at seeing me here, of all places, I could have spotted the humored twitch of his upper lip from across the Pacific Ocean. He was a terrible actor—truly the worst. He once got cut from our fifth-grade Christmas pageant only three days before curtain call because he couldn’t stop his nervous chuckle every time Mary’s donkey lumbered on stage, heaving a pillow-stuffed virgin mother. His debut theater career ended abruptly after a fed-up Mrs. Martin told him to bite the inside of his cheeks because there was no such thing as a laughing wise man. To which Miles had smartly replied, “There was no such thing as a wise man at the nativity scene, either. They came later.”
“Morning, sis. It’s nice to see you, too. My trip to Guatemala was great, by the way. Thanks for asking.” He chucked the ball at the wall, retrieving it on the bounce back. “You come to play doubles with me?” At this he cracked a full smile. Prior to Miles taking up wall ball on Tuesday mornings at his church gymnasium, I truly believed wall ball was a pretend sport, like the kind playground teachers made up for the athletically challenged to pass recess. Like hopscotch. Or tetherball. But nope, for some unknown reason, my twenty-seven-year-old brother was all about it.
I enunciated my words a second time. “I. Need. A. Cause.”
He bounced the red rubber ball twice at his feet. “I heard you the first time, and yet I still have no clue what you’re talking about.”
After lying awake half the night, strategizing and typing out nonsensical notes for my assistant Val to find in her inbox this morning, I’d convinced myself that Miles was my best hope for finding the right connection to a cause that would offer both experience—for the Netflix producers—and minimal commitment in light of my sixty-hour workweek. The thing was, Miles couldn’t know about the possibility of a makeover show. Or even the possibility of an audition for one. Because Miles was . . . well, Miles was a saint among humans. If I was gonna ask for help in his area of expertise, then he’d expect my motives to be pure. Which they were. Sort of.
As he looked to me for an explanation, I worked to recall the heartfelt speech I’d written in my head on the way over regarding the importance of serving others. I hoped my stall seemed genuine enough, and not like I was trying to call up empathy from the depths of my being. “It’s come to my attention that I have the platform I have for a reason. Not just to