I relax into her hug, squeezing her back. “Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears at her undying support of me no matter what.
She kisses my cheek and pulls back. “Now, let’s call our publicists and figure out what to say, I mean if he wants to go public with it. I want us to have a plan in place for either outcome.”
I nod and follow her into the kitchen where she pours us each a much-needed glass of wine as we make the phone calls.
Emma
I smile as I review footage from my first documentary interview. It’s so good, I want to pinch myself. My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from Grady. My smile turns into a giant grin.
Grady: I’m cooking for you tonight. Clear your schedule.
It’s been three weeks since our first date. After our brief breakup, if you can call it that, everything has been smooth sailing. I can’t help falling a little more in love with him each time we speak. He’s so much more than that bad-boy rocker I met at the gala.
Me: OK. What are you making me?
Grady: You’ll have to wait and see.
Me: So, I should start guessing now?
Grady: LOL
Me: Mexican?
Grady: Just wait.
Me: Italian?
Grady: You are a pain in the ass.
Me: It’s definitely American.
Grady: (shrugging emoji)
Me: No fair! What if it’s a food I hate?
Grady: Then I guess we’ll get takeout.
Me: Fine. It better be good though.
Grady: Wow, no pressure.
Me: (kissing emoji)
I put my phone down and go back to reviewing my interview.
I’m so engrossed in my work that the next time I look up it’s because there’s knocking at my door. I jump up and run to see that it’s Grady with a bag full of something.
Opening the door, I offer to take the bag.
“I got it,” he says as he follows me into my small kitchen.
“Maybe we should have done this at your house,” I ponder as I watch him unload the bag. There’s fresh bread, deli meats and cheeses, and guacamole.
“This is a meal that we can make anywhere,” he assures me with a grin. “Plus, I know you are busy and didn’t want to burden you.”
“Burden me? You’re the one trying to finish an album.”
He shrugs. “And we will.” He rifles through my cabinets and finds a pan. “Do you like grilled cheese?”
