Page 37 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

“Like I said before,” says Eli. “There’s nothing much up here.”

“But coffee shops are everywhere.”

“The coffee shop is right here.” Eli taps on the coffee machine.

I don’t doubt that it makes a decent cup of coffee, but my health coach tells me that I should start every day with green juice. It flushes out all the toxins.

I bite my lip, trying to figure out what all the different buttons do. “Can you make me a green juice?”

“He’s still in the middle of the last favor you asked him for,” calls Cash from the living area.

I roll my eyes. This conversation doesn’t concern him.

“Sure,” says Eli. “I should be able to make it.” He serves up toast and two poached eggs for me. “The bread is gluten-free. I had some left over from when one of my friends stayed with us a while ago.” He adds a finishing touch to my food—some weird-looking garnish.

“What’s that?”

“Your green in its natural form,” jokes Cash, approaching from behind. “What is it with you people having to drink everything in liquid form?”

“It’s called being busy,” I answer. “And having a life. Not everyone has time to sit around all day roasting celebrities.”

“You’re a celebrity?” Henry asks, perking up. He walks over and joins us in the kitchen. His pajamas are two sizes too big for him, but he looks cute, and it brings a massive smile to my face. “What kind of celebrity?”

“Oh, nobody big.”

“All celebrities are big. That’s why they’re celebrities.” He stumbles over the last word this time.

He’s stealing my heart, and we’ve only just been introduced. Perhaps, in another life, I’ll have a mini-me who shuffles around in matching pajama sets, with a natural curiosity for the world. But in this life, that can never happen.

“Eat your breakfast, Henry.” Eli ruffles his hair again, setting him up at the table.

I don’t realize I’m still smiling until I notice Cash and Knox both staring at me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I jump.

JULES: Is everything okay, Sienna? Please call me. I’m getting really worried.

My appetite fades as soon as I see the message, the fork falling from my hand and crashing to the plate with a clang.

“Trouble in paradise?” says Cash, at it again with the malicious remarks.

“Something like that,” I mutter absentmindedly, too focused on the dread spreading through my body to give a damn about his obvious hatred of me and Hollywood.

Honestly, I’m starting to feel the same way. Especially when I see the notifications roll through.

There are emails from the costume designers and other people I’m supposed to have met with. My dialect coach keeps pestering me with emails, reminding me that I need to see her immediately. I blame the director. He’s the one who said I needed to work with a dialogue coach, because apparently my British accent in the first Hearts For You movie didn’t land well, and lots of British watchers were offended.

The only people capable of pulling off a Yorkshire accent and making it sound believable are those from the area.

I bring a hand to my temple, breakfast now abandoned. It tastes better than homemade diner food, which says a lot, but I can’t stomach another bite. Not with all this noise buzzing around in my head.

“Is everything okay?” Knox leans forward, concern etched between his brows.

“Everything’s fine,” I sigh, climbing off the barstool. “I have some work calls to make. I’ll be right back.”

I ring Jules as soon as I’m out onto the porch, my pulse pounding.

The sun is shining, but it’s not powerful enough to melt the snow. And I’m kind of glad. It gives me an excuse to avoid responsibility for another day. I’m not in the right headspace to return to LA. Not yet.