A Love Song for Dreamers - Piper Lawson Page 0,57
that.”
“That’s why we try. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard.” I lean over the railing, staring out at the bright lights of the city as I continue.
“I used to think being in the spotlight was about talent or worthiness or luck. But it’s more than that. It’s a thousand choices to try something when you’re afraid, to say yes when it’s easier to say no, to believe in what you’re doing on those days you don’t believe in yourself.
“Do you believe in this enough to fund this?” I blurt, turning toward him.
His face goes blank, but I’m not here for validation. There’s something more I need from him.
“I’m sure people ask you for money every day,” I say. “But I’m not asking you to invest in me. I’m asking you to invest in this.” I gesture behind me. “This idea, this story, this possibility. If you honestly believe it will move people—that’s what we’re all trying to do. I know I’m enthusiastic. But don’t mistake it for naïve. I’ve seen a lot of this industry. I understand you need to make a profit. But I also know you wouldn’t be in it if there was anything else that would satisfy you.”
I take in his impassive face, my hands fisting at my sides as my heart falls into my stomach.
But after a moment, Jeffrey laughs softly. “You must have been influenced by your father.”
Once the question, the deflection, would’ve made me angry. It doesn’t anymore. “We’re always influenced by the people in our lives.”
“Would he be attaching himself to this?”
I shake my head. “I won’t ask him, and neither will you. It’s not his story.”
He turns that over as I stare out over the street, the people laughing and the cabs passing below.
“Well,” he says at last, “we’ll reserve him tickets.”
My glass slips, and I fumble to grab it before it hits the patio. “You mean you’ll fund it?” When I look up, he’s smiling.
“It’s a fabulous story, and I have a couple of directors in mind. But I won’t pretend some of the appeal isn’t standing right in front of me. Your talent, energy, charm… You’ll make a stellar lead.”
My heart kicks as I drop into one of the chairs on the balcony.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Just waiting for the blood flow to return to my head.”
I want to tell Tyler. As the conversation inside drifts through the glass, I want to call him. It’s everything I wanted.
But also, it’s not.
It’s been a week since I came back to New York. Tyler’s back in LA now, finalizing the deal on his new house. We left things in a good place but agreed it was best to keep some space between us for a while, which is why I haven’t reached out to him and he hasn’t reached out to me.
I’m still reliving our time together this summer, the days and nights in Dallas and LA. I decided to write them out like a diary, to preserve them like the perfect memories they are, but every time I start, it’s too fresh and it hurts too much, so I close the book.
“Are you all right?”
I blink to see Jeffrey, his glass raised.
“I’m great.” I rush to clink my glass to his.
Sadness makes this moment bittersweet. I try to focus on the good, but my heart’s still heavy.
“How’d it go?” Elle jumps on me when I enter our apartment. It’s two in the morning, and I’m ready to fall into bed, but I give her the news, and she shrieks, wrapping her arms around me. “Shit, A, you’re making a show!”
“Apparently.” My grin stretches across my tired face.
“So, you did it, and NT wasn’t even involved,” she muses. Before I can argue, she heads for the kitchen and pours shots of bourbon. “Cheers.”
We toss them back, and the warmth burns down my throat.
I think of Miranda’s reaction when I called her on the way home, how ecstatic she’d been despite the late hour. I debated whether to tell her tonight or tomorrow, but hearing her reaction, I was glad I didn’t wait.
“You tell Tyler yet?” Elle’s gaze over the shot glass is full of meaning.
I shake my head.
“He deserves to know—it’s his story too,” Elle goes on.
I pour us both another shot and pass her one. “I feel like I pulled it from the air.”
We toast and toss this one back too.
“Come on.” Elle sets her shot glass on the counter and leans a hip against it, her lips twisting. “A