Hills.
This is spacious, like our house but with a killer view. The house is modern, all glass, with doors swept wide open out to a marble terrace with an infinity pool. A five-piece band is playing on one side of the pool.
When my dad takes Shay to meet the head of the biggest music magazine on the planet, Tyler huffs out a breath next to me.
“She’s not ready.”
“She’ll figure it out.” He holds my stare, but Beck and I drag him toward the bar. Beck insists on champagne all around.
“I have news,” he declares, looking handsome in a pale-blue dress shirt that sets off his dark hair and eyes. “My pilot got picked up. We have a ten-episode run. We start filming Monday.”
“That’s amazing!” I hug him.
“Yeah. I play a cop with psychic powers.”
“Wasn’t that Jennifer Love Hewitt?”
He shrugs and settles his hands on my temples while Tyler looks entertained. “I see you going home with me tonight, gorgeous.”
“Stick to acting.” Tyler grabs Beck’s arms and shoves them away.
Beck’s eyes dance, and he looks past us. “Oh. No, I’m going home with him.”
He takes off, and Tyler turns toward me, stepping close enough his jacket brushes my bare arm. “How are you? We haven’t had a chance to talk alone since you met your mom.”
I eye him in the twilight. “She was perfectly nice.”
“But.”
“But she wanted things other than me.”
His expression clouds. “I’m sorry.”
“I should’ve known. You were right. I thought she’d be good in all the ways he’s not. Patient. Easygoing. Flexible. But it’s easy to forget your parents’ pluses.”
Like that my dad cares about family way more than money.
The band plays Sinatra, and Tyler glances toward the half-full dance floor. He shifts so the railing is at his back, the soft lights playing over his handsome features.
“I want to ask you to dance. But if we do, everyone in here is going to know we’re together. They’ll be like, ‘Who’s that handsome asshole with Annie Jamieson?’”
I throw my head back and laugh. “No, they’ll be like ‘Who’s that bitch with Tyler Adams?’”
He shakes his head. “He’s probably in love with her,” he continues in a mimicking voice.
I snort champagne up my nose, and the bubbles sting. “He’s probably using her to get to Jax,” I say in the same gossipy tone, searching out my dad and Shay on instinct.
“Except we know the truth.”
I arch a brow, waiting.
“Her dad’s not the prize. It’s always been her.”
My body tingles. He’s watching me intently, intensely.
We’re standing on the edge of the world, and it has nothing to do with the balcony or the view or the people.
My heart’s telling me this moment is right—he’s right. That in all the times I lost faith, I always came back to him. I love him. Not then. Now. Always. Tyler’s the dream I never gave up on, and I never want to leave his side.
I thought my dream was this musical—it was the final way to cement my belonging in this industry in a way that felt right to me.
But I know I belong. Tyler helped me see that.
And listening to my heart, I know I have another dream.
Him. Us.
Maybe I could stay.
I take a slow breath, my heart pounding.
But before I can respond, my phone rings.
It’s Miranda Talbot. “I have to take this.”
I squeeze Tyler’s arm, and he frowns but nods as I duck toward a quiet corner.
I answer her call. “Hi. What’s up? It’s after midnight where you are.”
“Ian killed the reading.”
Ice settles into my veins, and I blink back my surprise. “Wait, what? It’s been scheduled for months.”
“He just sent a private email around to tell the other funders to say he’s lost confidence in the direction of the show and won’t host the reading.”
Shock slams into me. “Shit. Can you reassure them?”
I have all their contact information from the research I’ve been doing.
“I can try, but my words will only go so far. I have other news. I didn’t want to worry you until we knew for sure, but I’ve gotten a breast cancer diagnosis.”
I nearly drop the phone as fear seizes my gut. “Miranda, are you okay?” My eyes squeeze shut. “Of course you’re not okay. Tell me everything.”
She explains how they found it, that they’re looking at options. All I hear is that my writing partner and mentor’s health is at risk.
We may not be the kind of friends who braid each other’s hair, but since we began collaborating more than two years ago, I’ve learned so much