“I don’t even know how to say it.” I can’t stop grinning. I don’t even have all the answers yet—where will I live? Do I take my dream job or move to LA?—but none of that matters. I can just feel it deep down in my bones that Trevor and I are meant to be. And what’s meant to be will always find a way.
“Oh my gosh, it’s about a guy,” Julie says as her best-friend-instincts must kick in while she looks at me. Her eyes widen. “Is it Trevor?”
I nod, my teeth digging into my bottom lip.
“Trevor themovie star?” she says as if she’s still not sure any of this is happening. To be fair, I’m still kind of in shock about it all, too.
I nod again. “The very same one. Trevor Owens said he loves me.”
Julie quickly slams her Jeep door closed then hooks her arm around mine and quickly walks toward the house. “You have to tell me every single detail. But we need coffee first.”
Inside, she heads to her fancy coffee maker and gets to work brewing two cups of cappuccino. I’m not really sure I even need caffeine right now because I’m so in love I have more than enough energy flitting about inside my veins, but Julie adores coffee so I let her do her thing.
Also…I check my watch. “We have to make this quick because I only have five minutes until he arrives.”
“Then you better spill all the details fast,” Julie says, pointing a finger at me. Her coffee machine spews and rattles as it brews the first cup of cappuccino.
I sit at the kitchen island, bouncing the balls of my feet on the barstool’s foot rail. I tell her about Trevor’s random appearance an hour ago, and how he poured out all his feelings and how I kind of screwed it up big time by being so hesitant. Julie is so focused on my story that she doesn’t even take a sip from her coffee mug. She just rests on her elbows, hands cupping the mug while she watches me from across the kitchen island.
“I can’t believe I hesitated,” I say once I’ve finished summarizing the talk Trevor and I’d had just a short while ago on the front porch. “I mean, I’m really excited about this new job but... does a job matter more than true love?"
"Definitely not," she says with a snort of laughter. “Love matters more than anything. But he said you can take things slow, so maybe you can do both? You can work your dream job here while the two of you date.”
“Long distance?” I say, curling my lip.
She waves away my fears with her hand. “Girl, he’s famous. He’ll just hop on a jet and fly over to visit you every other day.”
I roll my eyes. “That sounds very expensive.”
She winks at me. “You’re very worth it.”
My teeth dig into my lip again. “I don’t love the idea of being long distance, but I’m also smart enough not to rush off and move to another state just for a guy. And he’s not just any guy, he’s a celebrity. What if it doesn’t work out?”
Julie puts a hand on my arm, instantly steadying my panicky thoughts. “Take it one day at a time, Annie. You have a man who just told you he loves you. That’s a good thing. Stop trying to make it bad.”
I nod, drawing in a deep breath. “You’re right. Besides, he’ll be here soon.”
I grin and do a little shimmy dance on my barstool, then I check my watch again. “Actually he’s a few minutes late.”
I check out the front window just in case he’s waiting in his car or something, but he’s not here. Julie and I move to the living room where I’ve got a perfect view of the driveway and we finish our cappuccinos.
Half an hour passes, and then an hour. Julie turns one of our favorite baking competition shows on the television but it doesn’t distract me enough to take away my worry. Maybe he’s late because he got caught up doing movie star stuff. He’s talked about his agent several times. Maybe some big famous producer wants him for a movie and he’s on a Zoom call right now, working out the details. Maybe he’ll show up later with an apology for being late and we’ll kiss and everything will be perfect again.
Except I have the weirdest feeling in my chest. A painful knot of anxiety that sits just behind my sternum. It’s a feeling like something isn’t okay. I look over at Julie and she must sense my worry because she frowns.
“He’s probably just running late,” she says.
“I don’t know. It feels worse than that.”
“Has he texted you?”
I shake my head. “In all this time, we’ve never exchanged phone numbers.”
“Well, where’s your phone?” she asks, glancing around. “Maybe an emergency came up and he could have called the film people to get your number or something. You never know.”
I rush to Julie’s office where my phone is sitting on the wireless charger. I haven’t checked it in a while because there’s no point—I have a job offer, and my best friend is here with me, and Trevor doesn’t have my number.
My anxiety ramps up to epic levels when I see my phone screen. I didn’t think it was possible to have so many notifications at once. Thirty-two missed phone calls, mostly from friends or family members I haven’t talked to in years. Fifty texts. And so many social media notifications that my app just says “100+ notifications” on the screen.
