“Just for the night. I…There’s a lot to digest, and I wanted you to get just one good night of sleep.”
Not gonna happen, I nearly blurt. If my cell phone isn’t going to keep me up, my thoughts will. But then I remember how overwhelming just walking through the two airports was, and I think I can manage to last just one more night without my handheld information highway. I finally nod in defeat. “The triplets?” I ask.
“Asleep,” she confirms with a soft smile. “Though Gus fought until the very last yawn. I’m sure you’ll have them crowded around your bed earlier than you’d like.”
“I missed them,” I tell her.
“They missed you. And your grilled cheeses.”
That gets a smile out of me. I take my bags and head for the expansive sliding glass door leading out into the backyard and the pool house.
“I filled your mini fridge with mineral water and fruit leather,” she says. “Do you need anything before bed? A late-night avocado toast? Jana picked up some Ezekiel bread at the store.”
“I’m good. I ate on the plane,” I lie. I don’t know why, but now that I’m with someone from the outside world—even if it’s just Erica—all I want is to be alone.
“Oh God, don’t even get me started on plane food. It’s just dehydrated astronaut—”
“Erica, did you know?” The question is eating away at me. “Surely you knew.”
Her brow furrows with confusion.
“Did you know the network was going to have him choose Sara Claire all along?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and leans her hip against the counter. “I…did, but, Cindy, you yourself made it very clear you weren’t going into this expecting to find anything. This was about visibility for you from the get-go.”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice flat. “I guess that changed.”
“Cindy.” The way she says my name is so gentle, just like the night she told me Dad died. It stings, still. “Was it…real for you?”
“I’m pretty sure nothing on that cheap ratings-grab excuse of a television show is real. It’s trash. The whole thing is trash, and so is everyone who has anything to do with it.” The second the words have left my mouth, I regret it. “I gotta go to bed.”
Erica masks the hurt on her face by pursing her lips in a thin smile. “Don’t forget that you chose this, Cindy. Good night.”
The next morning, it’s not the triplets who are waiting for me. Instead, Anna and Drew stand hovering over me with multiple cell phones and devices in their hands.
“We can’t let her sleep any longer. These requests are rolling in and I can’t keep track,” I hear Drew say through my foggy, partially asleep state.
“I’m up,” I grumble. “I’m up.”
“She’s up!” Anna echoes.
Drew holds three lattes hugged to her chest. “Oh my God, finally. Have you been online? Talked to anyone? Anything?”
I shake my head, unable to string together many words so soon after waking up.
“We got your phone out of Mom’s safe,” Anna says as Drew hands me a coffee. “The lock combo was—get this—90210. Is Mom old? Do we need to teach her about how to make good passwords or whatever?”
“Extra whip,” Drew says as she plops down on the bed beside me. “I can’t believe you’re back.”
Anna cozies up on my other side. “And that we’re all three together again.”
They both lean their heads against my shoulder as I take a nice long sip. After a few blinks and a yawn, I manage to say, “I’m so glad to see you both. I am. But did someone say something about my phone?”
Anna fishes a phone out of her sports bra and hands it over. “For safekeeping,” she explains.
“I’ve already sorted your in-box,” Drew tells me. “Interview requests, old friends trying to creep in on your newfound fame, job offers, famous or semifamous people reaching out to say hi—apparently, James Van Der Beek is aBefore Midnightstan; who knew?—and managers and agents looking to pitch themselves to you.”
“Wait, how did you know my passcode?”
