Olivia pulls out a tube of lip gloss and begins carefully applying it in the mirror.
“Well, at least you won’t have to do that much longer,” she says with a wink.
Her words catch me so off guard that I just stand there, unable to formulate a response.What the hell is that supposed to mean?I guess I’m quiet for too long because she turns away from the mirror, her face apologetic.
“Oh, god. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you! It’s just that it’s impossible to have a job like that when you’re dating a celebrity. The only way to make it work is to travel with them. Especially when they go on tour. You can’t really make that happen while holding down a nine-to-five, you know?”
My chest tightens as I fully absorb the impact of her words. I’d resigned myself to the idea of Jake traveling for events, but I had forgotten about touring. A few weeks here and there is one thing, but how will our relationship survive if we need to spend months at a time apart? I know firsthand how easily distance destroys a relationship. The way it erodes everything you once shared little by little, until you can hardly remember the way things once were. My relationship with my dad is a prime example.
“Ohmigod, your face! Here, have a Xanax,” Olivia offers, flipping open a monogrammed pillbox and extending it toward me. When I shake my head to decline, she shrugs, popping a tiny white tablet into her mouth and swallowing it dry before dropping the case back into her purse.
“Anyway, I know how you feel,” Olivia continues. “I was in my second year of law school when I met Liam. My parents were horrified when I dropped out to go on tour with him and the band. But, like, what was I going to do, let him spend nine months getting road head from a bunch of prepubescent groupies?”
My head spins as I try to process it all. “So, you just gave up your dream of becoming a lawyer? Don’t you miss working?”
“Oh, trust me, honey, I work.” Reaching into her bag again, she retrieves her cell phone and clicks open her Instagram page. Myeyes widen as she scrolls through the images, all of which feature her rail-thin frame in various designer outfits. What’s even more shocking is that she has 1.7 million followers.
“Being a brand ambassador isn’t easy,” she sighs. “But you can’t beat the perks. I have to rent an extra storage unit to hold all the free clothes.” She looks up at me, her eyes flashing with inspiration. “You should totally become a food influencer! You could be, like, a pre-scandal Chrissy Teigen! Jake’s fans would eat it up.” She tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. “Just remember: whatever you do, never, ever read the comments.”
BY THE TIME Ileave the bathroom, I’m a mess. My hands are slick with sweat and my chest is tight. It takes me a few minutes to find Jake in the crowd. The air is dense with body heat, the deafening bass music pulsating through the speakers. I finally spot him in the back of the room, leaning against a metal beam and holding court with a group of women I don’t recognize. Probably publicists or models or television stars. Who even knows? The one thing I do know is that none of them have been elbow deep in an industrial sink in the past thirty-six hours.
His face lights up when he sees me, then falls as he takes in my expression.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with concern. “Are you okay?”
The women he was talking to sulk off, whispering among themselves. One of them shoots me a look over her shoulder but I ignore her.
Well,I want to say.I was just accosted in the bathroom by a stunningly beautiful Brit who basically told me it was pointless to pursue my career now that we’re in a relationship.But we’re in public and there’s no way I’m going to ruin our night by dumping my personal neuroses on him right now. Besides, the last thing I need is to give the roaming eyes in this room fresh gossip for their blogs.
“Everything’s great,” I say, taking a sip from the glass of champagne in his hand. “We can talk about it later. This is a party. Let’s just have fun.” I look up at Jake, forcing my lips into a smile, but his own mouth remains twisted downward.
“I can’t have fun if I know you’re upset,” he says softly. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
I take a deep, steadying breath.
“Do you think I’m going to quit my job now that we’re together?”
The wrinkle in Jake’s forehead deepens.
“What? Where did you get that idea?”
I recount my bathroom conversation with Olivia. Jake’s brow lowers as he listens. When I finish, he takes both of my hands in his, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Lexi, I would never, ever want you to quit being a chef. This is your dream. And I’m always going to support you, just like you support me.”
Sulkily, I look down to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re going to be staying in New York full-time. What happens when you need to travel? Or go on tour? Practically speaking, how is this going to work?”
Jake shifts from one foot to another, stalling for time, and with each passing moment, it’s becoming increasingly clear that there is no good answer to my question.
“Look, we don’t need to have it all figured out right now. But we’ll make it work, okay? I’ll be in New York as much as I can, and you can come to a show or two when your schedule allows. I won’t give up on us. We’ll find a way.” His eyes dart to the dance floor before he turns back toward me, extending a hand. “In the meantime, would you do me the honor?”
With a resigned huff, I turn on my heel and begin weaving my way through the crowd toward the dance floor. A moment later, Jake’s hand slips through mine, pulling me back toward him. He spins me around so that I’m facing him.
“Hey.” His eyes search mine as he takes both of my hands in his. “Are we okay?”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah, I guess. Everything is just so uncertain, and I hate the way it makes me feel.”
