Happy New Year. It’s a little after 12 here, and I’m afraid I won’t be awake when it turns 12 there. Go have fun at your party.
Another way Cal was thoughtful. He never begrudged me a good time or the Hollywood experience.
I snagged a champagne glass off the counter and took another picture of it, the staff in a flurry in the background. I attached it to my simple text…
To you too, Cal.
I slipped my phone back into my clutch purse and decided to join the party again. As soon as I made my way back to the dining room where the majority of guests were standing around a ginormous charcuterie display, oohing and aahing but not eating much, Bella Dash found me.
“Hi, Billy. How are you? I haven’t seen you since we filmedSuper Lady.”
I wasn’t one to cause a commotion in public, but at this point I was ready to text Frank to send the car around for me. He was having a quiet night with his partner at home since there was plenty of security at Brad’s. “I’ve been busy.The Tiderecently came out.”
“And you became an aunt.” Bella looked at me with a smarmy expression, and I wanted to slap it off her face.
“Yes, Ford and Jamie had a beautiful baby girl,” I said instead, defending my sister-in-law, who Bella had tortured (along with my mother as her partner in crime).
“Well, not Jamie per se.”
God, I despised Bella and her backhanded snark. “You know what? Keep your ideas to yourself.” I spoke softly. “You’re everything bad there is about this town. Watch out, Bella. One day you’ll be forty and searching under rocks for roles. Maybe wanting a family and realizing you gave all your youth to the very city you live in…”
“Is that how you feel?”
I decided this argument wasn’t worth my time; Bella was as green with envy as her emerald-colored sparkly pantsuit. “Good night, Bella.”
I moved through the adjacent room with practiced grace—mostly from my political upbringing—and wished Brad a happy new year. We made promises to get together in the next few months. I sauntered over to Cameron Diaz, telling her I recently watchedThe Holidaywith a friend, and we decided she was a much better actress than me. We both laughed, and I decided to call it a night on a happy note, thoughts of Cal drifting through my mind.
Of course, Frank didn’t follow his plan—he showed up with the driver and escorted me out of the house and into my condo. His final words almost choked me.
“I hope you find happiness this year, Bill.”
Problem was, I had found it, but in the wrong gift wrap for me. My life required sparkles and bows, and my heart craved recycled paper and twine.
Callum
Iwalked through the airport in LA and felt as if I’d been transported to some imaginary world. I knew it was a balmy fifty-five degrees outside, but it was a sea of Ugg boots and straight blond hair. As I neared the baggage claim, I looked for a driver with my name on a placard. I’d wanted to handle my own transportation, but Billy insisted Frank take over. I’d been at my colleague’s fertility conference at Stanford for three days, and I was anxious to see Billy, so I agreed. Now, I was regretting the choice. I was my own man and capable of getting to where I needed to be.
Apparently, Frank didn’t care. He was in charge of who came and went from Billy’s condo, and that was why I was currently waving to a dude holding a sign that readMr. Rubble. Dressed in a dark suit, long black hair sleeked back into a low ponytail, and aviator sunglasses, the dude was Los Angeles through and through. I couldn’t help but laugh. It was also clear the sign was Frank’s way of messing with me—I wanted to be Mr. Flintstone.
Or at least Wilma’s more-than-a-friend friend.
“Hi, Callum?” The daunting six foot five man in front of me bent down and whispered when I stood in front of him.
“That’s me.”
“Great. Sampson,” he said, holding out his hand to shake mine. I obliged and then he started moving. “Luggage?”
“Just this.” I looked at my carry-on and thought it must be unusual for me not to have many bags.
“Let’s go. I’m right out these doors.”
He walked through a set of double doors, and sure enough an extended Cadillac Escalade with blacked-out windows waited.
He opened the rear and stole my bag before I could protest. I took advantage of the moment and let myself into the front passenger seat. I wasn’t riding in the back like some kind of celebrity.
If Sampson minded, he didn’t let on. After getting into the driver’s side and pulling the car out, he spoke. “Ms. Conway is at a read-through. She requested I take you to her condo, and Glory will be there.”
“Do you work for Billy?”
