I stare at the screen as the reception swells behind me—champagne popping, laughter rising, string quartet shifting into something upbeat.
Four hundred guests tomorrow for the Beckman wedding. A budget that rivals the revenue of small countries.
And now I’m alone.
I close my eyes briefly.
Control.
I handle it. I always handle it.
I text back something professional. Something gracious. Something I don’t feel.
Then I slide my phone into my clutch and walk back into the ballroom with a smile so seamless no one notices it’s glued on.
Two hours later, I find my bestie, Quinn, by the bar, glowing in a way that only women freshly in love do. Nathan Knight, Jonathan’s brother, has his arm around her waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her hip.
Easy. Comfortable. Certain.
“There she is,” Quinn says, pulling me into a hug. “I heard about the bustle incident.”
“Just another Saturday.” I accept the champagne she hands me. “You two are disgustingly happy.”
Nathan grins. “We aim to offend.”
They laugh together. Effortless.
I watch them for a second longer than I mean to.
After everything they survived—the public fallout, the separation—they chose each other again. Not because it was convenient. Because it was worth the fight.
“I’m glad I had front-row seats to the epic romance,” I say lightly.
Quinn bumps her shoulder against mine. “You’ll get yours.”
I smile in the exact way I’ve perfected for these moments.
“Sure.”
My phone vibrates again.
I almost ignore it, but habit wins.
* * *
Apex Entertainment
Subject: Congratulations, Lyla!
* * *
My stomach drops.
* * *
Congratulations. After reviewing thousands of applications, we are thrilled to offer you a spot on Paradise Found. Filming begins in two weeks…
Ten days. One hundred thousand dollars. National exposure.
