“I have a confession: I also needed some girl time,” Annie confides in me, leaning in. “My dad’s been visiting, so he and Tyler talk shop all the time. It’s too much testosterone, and Rose isn’t old enough or loud enough to back me up yet.” She winks and tugs me out to the patio, which has a pool and a sweeping view of West Hollywood.
Annie Jamieson is remarkably down-to-earth for someone with 270 degrees of ocean outside her kitchen. I like her already.
“I get what it’s like to be surrounded by boys working,” I say. “I left most of my friends behind in Denver when we came for Clay’s work.”
She nods sympathetically. “An opportunity comes up and you don’t have time to think. You leap or you fall. What they never tell you is even when you say yes, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
I take a sip of my drink, staring at the sunset. “Are you allowed to say that?”
She bursts out laughing, a hand covering her mouth. “Jesus, Nova, it’s a good thing I don’t drink champagne. I’d have bubbles coming out my nose for weeks.” Once her laughter fades, she says, “You’re right. Once you get all the things, you’re not allowed to say shit. Even if what you wanted doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would.”
My gaze scans the party, landing on Clay talking to Tyler and the entertainment magnate. Harrison, I think his name is.
“So, how do you deal?” I ask.
“You make friends. The kind you can be honest with.” Her gaze lands on a dark-haired woman weaving through the crowd.
Little Queen. The DJ. She played one night in Denver when we all went out.
Annie wraps an arm around the woman’s neck and drags her close. “Tell me you weren’t fucking Harry in the hall closet again.”
“I thought that was reserved for you and Tyler,” the woman deadpans, her eyes sliding between us. “At least at parties.”
Annie gasps. “How did you know about that?!”
“Everyone knows about that.”
Annie laughs and turns back to me. “Rae and I went to school together. Elle too.”
“Nova,” I say, holding out a hand.
Rae takes it with a secretive smile. “The boys are entertaining themselves.” She glances at them. “Tattoos. He with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. They just started talking about American football. They’ll be occupied a while.”
I take another drink, enjoying my new friends.
“Are you and Harrison together?” I ask.
She lifts her hand, a huge yellow diamond on her finger. “He swears we are. I remember nothing.”
“Rae’s the only one who could keep Harry in line,” Annie informs me. “The bigger the ego, the bigger the ego slayer needed.”
“So, does that mean Tyler’s humble?” They exchange a look, and I keep talking. “Because you seem really sweet, I mean.”
Annie grins, her gold eyes glinting.
“That man would crawl for her. In fact, I think he has,” Rae drawls.
“What about you and Clay?” Annie asks.
Between the vibe we have and the alcohol, I feel safe telling them the truth—at least part of it.
“When LA won the championship, I thought everything would be easy.”
“And it wasn’t,” Annie finishes.
I shake my head. “We used to talk all the time. But it feels like he’s shut me out of his head. I wish he would decide what he wants to do next year.” I flash a smile, realizing I’m opening up too much. Even if these women are discreet, this is a party and I’m being a downer. “At least I can work from anywhere, so if he picks a different team, I’ll be ready.”
“Nova’s an artist,” Annie explains to Rae. “And a really talented one.”
Annie pulls out her phone and clicks over to social media.
After looking through some of my pictures, Rae says, “She should do your premiere.”
Golden eyes widen.
“What premiere?” I ask, confused.
“A’s in a film coming out next month. It was supposed to be some small indie thing, but it’s getting rave reviews. They want a collection of portraits of the actors for the opening.”
“You’d be perfect,” Annie insists. “The director tried to pull it together before, but some things fell through.”
“That sounds incredible. I’d be grateful if you put me forward.”
“It’s not putting you forward,” Rae drawls as Annie types on her phone. “There’ll be an email in your inbox in twenty-four hours.”
Five minutes later, my phone dings with an offer.
My chest expands with hope. This is for me, it’s within my control, and it has nothing to do with Clay. I feel as if I’ve stumbled across a tiny gem I wasn’t looking for.
That’s when another message comes through.
Harlan: Mari’s in labor.
My stomach flips.
I text back immediately.
Nova: OMG! How is she doing? Are you heading to the hospital?
Harlan: Already there. Pushing now.
I use the washroom and bump into a figure on the way out.
“Hey.” Clay catches me.
I gaze up at him, tipsy. “Mari’s in labor.”
“Shit. That’s early.”
The way he says it hits me like a wrong note.
“Only a few days,” I respond. “I’m a little sad I couldn’t be there.”
“You could’ve gone.”
My mouth falls open.
Someone comes down the hall to use the bathroom, and I step through an open door into what looks like a guest room.
Clay follows, half shutting it behind us.
“I needed to be here for you,” I say quietly enough my voice doesn’t travel into the hall.
His frown says I’m being difficult. “I’m a grown man, Nova. You don’t need to babysit me.”
“It’s not babysitting, it’s choosing where we’re going to live.”
“Maybe I won’t sign anywhere.”
My throat closes, frustration battling with helplessness.
I used to tolerate feeling like the world called all the shots. There are times, like with the trade to LA, when you have to roll with it. But this feels different.
The curtains in the bedroom are drawn to keep it from overheating in the sun. It lends to the impression that this conversation is secret.
“You won’t open up about what’s going on with you, for months now,” I say, breaking the silence. “I know you got hurt, but you’ve been injured before. This is different.”
Clay rubs both hands through his hair. “I didn’t make you come to LA.”
“I know. I thought we could be happy here,” I whisper as I reach for his wrists. “You got everything you said you wanted. The team. The win. The legacy. There’s a ring with your name on it they’re going to hand you at the first home game of the season. If you know what will make you happy, tell me. Let me in.”
He pulls away, pacing the floor beyond me. Still close, but out of reach.
“I don’t need help. I need the right offer.”