I bite my lower lip. “You don’t think that’s…I don’t know, cheating?"
At this, he laughs loudly. I glance behind me and see Evan looking at us. I turn back toward Leo.
“Advice is only as good as where it comes from, and I know you don’t know me well, but if I would have listened to the people who told me I wasn’t good enough, I wouldn’t be here now. No one gave me permission to open this restaurant. I decided I was good enough to have it myself, and while I have some investors, I would have done it with or without them,” he says. “I don’t know why books have to be any different. What you do isn’t going to make everyone happy, but making everyone happy is an impossible task. I think if you make a few people happy in the process of making yourself happy, maybe you’ll discover your dream wasn’t as far away as you thought.”
I’m pondering what Leo just said when my phone buzzes. I pick it up.
Evan
Is Leo trying to ask you out?
“Evan wants to know if you’re trying to ask me out,” I say.
“Tell him if he doesn’t ask you out soon, I’m definitely going to be.” His words come with a flirtatious wink.
I shake my head. “I’m not going to tell him that.”
He smiles. “Okay. Well, I’ve got to go back to the kitchen. If you didn’t get enough for your interview, I’d be up for a second date.”
I laugh. “Okay.”
“And good luck, Rachel Perry. With, well…” Leo’s gaze flicks toward Evan, lingering just long enough to make his point before snapping back with a knowing smirk.
I’m going to melt into a puddle of embarrassment right here on his gorgeous restored wooden floors.
There is nothing going on between Evan Michaels and me.
Absolutely nothing.
Unless, maybe, there’s a little bit of something.
I stand to leave, and as quietly as possible, I exit through the front door, hoping Evan isn’t watching me but kind of hoping he is.
Chapter 26
Evan
I’msittingonthefloor outside Rachel’s hotel room after wrapping up the fan experience with Sophia early. We have a couple hours before the forum, and I know this is the last place Melanie would want me to be right now, but it’s the only place I feel I’m supposed to be.
I’m just not brave enough to knock on her door yet.
In most areas of my life, fear isn’t part of the equation. I like control. I’m good at it. Well-practiced at it. It’s part of the very fiber of my being, stitched into my knee-jerk reactions and sharp words that I should have taken sandpaper to before saying.
Control is who I am, or who I’ve had to be.
I can cut a thousand words from a manuscript without blinking.
I can make a grown editor second-guess their entire existence with a single email.
I can survive on black coffee and spite for days at a time.
I can even control how much of my emotions I let my little sister see.
But this?
On the other side of this door is a woman and a conversation I can’t script.
And that scares me, because I’m realizing that the entire time I thought I’ve been protecting myself from Rachel, I’ve been slowly letting her in.
