“You sound like Mom.”
“Good.”
I force a weak smile, swiping at my eyes. “You really think this is a good idea? It sounds absurd. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Do what you do best, Stevie. Perform. Give it your all. Who knows? Maybe you’ll make some connections while you’re out here. I’m sure Lex will introduce you to producers.”
My pulse flutters at the thought. “I guess that’s a silver lining.”
“Sis, this entire opportunity is a silver lining. You’re going to live in a giant condo in the heart of Hollywood, go to fancy dinners and events, swim in the ocean, eat caviar—”
“Gross.”
She sighs. “This is going to be life-changing. I promise.”
I flick my eyes to hers. “Mom and Dad are okay with this? They aren’t losing their minds?”
“They’re already planning the wedding.”
“Oh God. That’s not helpful.”
“Kidding. But they support you, no matter what. They know what this could mean for you and your future.”
I imagine it.
My future.
Last week, my future was eating pickled gummy bears on the couch until the end of time, wallowing in my shattered dreams and part-time job at a piano bar. No boyfriend, no direction, no hope. But now…
“Okay,” I murmur, the word nearly cracking me in two. “But only because you’re making me.”
Her jade eyes brighten to a near-emerald glow. “I will one thousand percent take responsibility for this. Hold me fully accountable, please. It’ll be the shining star on my résumé.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Mist shimmers in her gaze. “I’ll miss you eventually. After you decide you never want to come home.”
“Yeah, right.” I smile back at her. “We can pretend.”
***
Less than an hour later, I’m standing in the foyer of Lex’s enormous, polished condominium. Blacks, grays, whites. Crystal and stone. It’s a colorless oasis of wealthy, bachelorhood dreams. “Holy crap.”
Lex saunters ahead of me, tossing his sunglasses onto the huge marble island that gleams jet-black with shimmery gold veining. “Make yourself at home.”
Home.
This type of living is so far out of my price range, I can’t wrap my head around even spending a single night here.
I move slowly through the entryway, discarding my lone suitcase by the door. “This is…”
“It’s four walls. A place to sleep.”
“There are four trillion walls.”
He scratches at his mop of hair, the sun-kissed tips glinting under a modern chandelier. “We should probably lay some ground rules.”
Frowning, I step into the kitchen off the foyer, grazing my fingertips over the lustrous stone island. “Ground rules? Are there things I’m not allowed to touch?” He’s worried I’m going to break something. That’s fair. I did fall off a stage once. “A mysterious, off-limits west wing?”
