only to see Carly dancing that very night at a club in West Hollywood.
She fell back against the pillow, trying to understand.
That’s when she got it. The resentment, the unreturned messages, the late night excursion. It was what she’d feared all along.
Carly was more important to her than she was to Carly.
She’d simply refused to accept it until now.
Lauren stared into the quiet of her hotel room and focused on the lights of LA just outside her window. What was she doing here? Chasing an old dream from when she was too young to know any better? Whatever gratification she got from her recent successes wouldn’t last and shattered in the face of what she’d lost in Carly.
She didn’t want it under these circumstances. Any of it.
Without giving it another moment of consideration, she flipped on the light, retrieved her suitcase, and set to packing for the third time in two months. She found a reasonable fare home on the internet, if she didn’t mind traveling early. She definitely didn’t. She needed to get the hell home.
Chapter Eighteen
Carly rolled her shoulders as she walked through the lobby of the Hilton. She smiled at a few of the tourists who’d turned immediately in her direction the second she walked by. She posed for a selfie with a teenager waiting alongside her at the elevator bay. As she rode to the fourteenth floor, her nerves fired. She had what she wanted to say prepared in her head. She’d spent the morning at her kitchen table getting her thoughts in order, even taking notes on one of Lauren’s Post-it pads.
At Carly’s request, Alika had booked her on both Celebrity Game Night and Pyramid, for which she would begin practicing soon. She decided to shed her stupid ego and now looked at them as a truly fun opportunity. Why not enjoy herself a little? Maybe reminding the world that she was out there would jump-start her career. Maybe not. That part mattered less.
She knocked on the door to room 1422—Lauren’s room. Lauren had texted her the room number the night she’d checked in. She waited, realizing she should have called first, given that Lauren clearly wasn’t in. Behind her, a housekeeper arrived with a cart. He was an older gentleman and smiled at her like they were best friends.
“At first I thought, I know you, but nah, you’re a movie star.”
“Yes, hi. I’m Carly. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Henry. Pleased to make your acquaintance, as well.” He smiled some more as he turned and opened the door to Lauren’s room. He gestured toward it. “You were knocking on this one?”
She nodded. “But my friend is out, so I’ll give her a call and come back later. Thank you.” She turned to go.
“She checked out.” He headed inside, but the cart propped open the door.
Carly frowned and peeked her head around the door into the hotel room. “Checked out? Are you sure?”
“Yep.” He pointed at his clipboard sitting on top of the cart. “This morning.”
“Do you know where she went?” It was a dumb question.
“Sorry. I just get a list of vacated rooms to turn around.”
“Thank you,” Carly called over her shoulder and left in confusion. Maybe Lauren had returned to her place, which would be ideal, because it was what she wanted anyway. As Carly waited for the valet to return with her car, she turned to the doorman on a whim.
“Did you see this woman leave earlier?” She turned her phone around and showed him a photo.
He pointed at the screen. “Ah, yep. She had trouble getting her Uber driver to pick her up in the right spot. Had me talk to him for directions.”
She crouched in excitement. A lead. “Any idea where he was taking her?”
“Yep. The airport. That was a few hours ago.”
“No.”
He winced apologetically, sensing it was not the answer she wanted. “Yes.”
Carly’s spirits fell from her chest to the pavement. How was that possible? She took out her phone and called Lauren, something she now felt like an idiot for not doing over the last few days. No answer, which made sense. She was likely on a flight. She looked to the doorman again, whose name tag read Mike. “So what am I supposed to do now?” She had no idea why she thought Mike would know.
“I always find a nice breakfast cheers me up. I’m a flapjacks guy.”
That’s the sentence her brain decided to play for her over and over as she returned home, directionless. I’m a flapjacks