“Cars pick us up at six-thirty. Red carpet is at seven. Screening at eight. After-party at ten.” I shook my head, chuckling. “Can you believe we’re here?”
The men returned with the promised drinks. After setting them on the tables next to us, all four of them jumped in the pool with the kids.
“I guess they’re in touch with their inner child,” Esme said, taking a sip of the fruity drink Grady had brought for her. She wore a pink bikini and a sunhat over her blonde hair, eyes the same color as the pool, looking not much older than our teenage kids.
“You did this, you know,” Delphine said, sitting in the chair next to me, her long, toned legs already showing signs of a tan. “You made this happen with your hard work and your talent. It’s pretty amazing when you think about it.”
“I agree,” Lila said, her eyes glistening. “We’re all so proud of you.” She wore a modest halter style swimsuit in tangerine and looked like she belonged here in the world of the stars.
“And thanks for bringing us to the party,” Esme said. “This is truly exciting.”
“The kids will never forget it,” Gillian said, patting Leo’s small form nestled against her. “Except for my little lion here.It’ll be family lore by the time he’s old enough to hear about it. Can I tell you how excited I am to go out tonight and wear something that doesn’t have spit-up on the shoulder?” She and Alex had hired a nanny for the evening, recommended by Grady’s sister Mauve. Even though they were rich, Gillian had refused a full-time nanny for Leo. She said she’d think about it once she returned to teaching at her studio, but, for now, she didn’t want to miss a moment.
“I couldn’t do it without all of you,” I said.
“You could, but why would you want to?” Delphine asked.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Let’s toast now, since later it’s going to be nuts,” Lila said. “To our gifted friend. This couldn’t have happened to a better person.”
We clinked glasses, and all settled back into our lounge chairs, content to do nothing at all but watch our kids and our men playing in the pool.
17
SERAPHINA
Istood in front of the full-length mirror, barely recognizing myself. The stylist and makeup people the studio had sent had done something magical. My red hair was swept up in a loose chignon, a few tendrils framing my face. The makeup was subtle but stunning—smoky eyes, nude lips, blush and highlighter that made my cheekbones stand out. And the dress I’d chosen was to die for. Emerald silk that skimmed my curves and pooled slightly at my feet, a slit up one side that was daring without being trashy.
I had a sudden ache for my dad. He would be so proud. I could practically see him standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear, saying something like, “They’re going to be breaking beer bottles over one another’s heads to get a dance with you.”
I only wanted one man to dance with me. At the moment, Hunter was downstairs at the bar with the other men. I’d promised to come down the moment I was ready.
A knock at the door pulled me from my reflection. I assumed it was Esme or Delphine, coming to check on me before we headed down.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened. It was Tyler.
He was dressed for the premiere in a dark suit, a white shirt open at the collar, hair held in place with gel. He looked handsome and grown-up and so much like my dad that for a moment I couldn’t do anything but stare. But wait, something was wrong. He was pale and shaky.
“What is it?” I asked.
He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “You need to see this.” He crossed the room and handed me the phone.
The headline hit me first:
“Lucky to Book a County Fair:” Romance Author Seraphina Sinclair Unloads on Dana King in Explosive Interview
Below it was my author headshot Hawthorne used for press. Next to it was a photo of Dana, looking wounded and ethereal in soft lighting.
I scrolled down.
In an exclusive interview, bestselling romance author Seraphina Sinclair didn’t hold back when discussing Dana King, the ex-wife of her current boyfriend, songwriter Hunter Sloan.
“Dana had an affair. That’s why the marriage ended,” Sinclair stated bluntly. “Dana King was in someone else’s bed, and most of the music industry knew it.”
When asked about King’s upcoming memoir, which paints a less flattering portrait of Sloan, Sinclair grew heated.
