I grip my phone a little tighter, then finally, finally type out a message.
Me: Sweet dreams, Fangirl. Miss you.
I stare at the screen for a long moment.
It’s not enough. Not nearly. But it’s all I can give her right now.
And if that’s not enough? I might lose her before I even get the chance to keep her.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly as I take the stairs down to the parking garage of the production office in downtown LA.
I do have a plan for us though.
It’s a terrible plan, half-baked at best. The kind of reckless, impulsive move that belongs in one of Will’s brilliant but disastrous ideas—the ones that usually end with us talking our way out of trouble or, more often than not, paying someone off.
But right now? It’s all I’ve got.
Amy mentioned Melinda’s signing in London. She will be there. She told me herself. She said she planned to grill Melinda about the casting decision and about me. The irony isn’t lost on me.
But when she talks to me, I’m notJake Hollander. I’ve never been. I’m Eli.
And she has no idea that I’ll be there, standing just a few feet away, watching her before she even realizes.
The event is small, exclusive—only 125 tickets sold. A closed-door signing for the most dedicated fans. Officially, Melinda is the only announced guest, but she’s arranged for two surprises.
Maggie Myer.
And me.
Maggie, one of Britain’s newest rising stars. She skyrocketed to fame after playing the plump, unconventional, yet completely enchanting heroine in a wildly popular period drama. She’s brilliant, sharp-witted, and adored bycritics and audiences alike. And now, she’s been cast as Celandine.
Melinda has been given the honor of announcing it exclusively at the signing.
The scenario is already playing in my head, something straight out of a Hallmark film. I’ll spot her first… Amy. She’ll take a seat, probably near the front because, of course she will. She’s Amy, the guardian ofPersefia, the girl who has more passion for this series in her pinky than most people have in their entire bodies.
I smile at the thought as I navigate the hell that is LA traffic.
Maggie and I will be introduced. We’ll take our seats beside Melinda. Fans will start lining up to get their signed copy of the latest installment,The Shattered Crown. And when it’s finally Amy’s turn, she’ll step up, eyes full of fire, already mid-glare because she’s my girl. My fierce, stubborn, beautiful girl who doesn’t let anyone get away with anything.
She’ll be mad. Furious, even. And I’ll wait.
I’ll watch as she squares her shoulders, preparing to unleash whatever rant she’s been crafting in her head since she laid eyes on me. But before she can get the first word out, I’ll look up, meet her gaze head-on, and say, "Hey, Fangirl."
And for one fleeting second, before the fire ignites in her eyes, I’ll wonder if she’ll ever forgive me at all.
Not in the polished, carefully measured voice the world knows as Jake Hollander.
Not in the deeper, calculated tone Will once coached meinto adopting. No. I’ll say it as Eli.
And she’ll freeze.
For a second, maybe two. And then? She’ll be angry.
But I’ll speak to her, really speak to her, and she’ll understand. She’ll forgive me.
And then I’ll take her in my arms and kiss her. I’ll take her home and make love to her. Worship her the way I’ve wanted to from the moment I realized she was mine.
And the next night? I’ll take her to theExplosion Protocolpremiere, her hand in mine, the whole world watching.
