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“I will.”

“And Sam?”

I turned around.

He smiled at me. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I smiled at him before walking away.

By the time I stepped outside, Leanne was waiting at the curb. Her red convertible sat in front of Dad’s house with the top down and music playing from the speakers. She had one arm stretched across the passenger seat and oversized sunglasses covering half her face.

I opened the door and climbed inside.

“You’re cutting it close,” she said as I pulled the door shut. “I was starting to think Henry had convinced you to stay for lunch.”

“He was too busy trying to convince me that chocolate cake is an acceptable breakfast food.”

Leanne laughed as she pulled away from the curb. “Your father has two private cooks and enough money to eat whatever he wants for the rest of his life. Let the man have his cake.”

“His cholesterol is high. Everyone in that house knows it, but they keep sneaking him desserts.”

“You do realize he’s their boss, right? I don’t think they’re sneaking him anything.”

“They’re enabling him. I told Elena to cut him off.”

“You’re becoming your mom.”

I turned toward her.

Leanne glanced at me, and her smile softened. “I meant that in a good way.”

“I know.”

Mom used to do the same thing. She watched what Dad ate because he never did. She complained about the butter his cooks used, made him order fish instead of steak when we went out, and somehow always knew when he had eaten something he wasn’t supposed to.

Now I was doing it.

I looked out the window as Leanne drove. “How did your meeting go yesterday?”

She smiled immediately as she kept her eyes on the road. “They want me to meet with an agency in New York.”

I sat up straighter. “The one you told me about?”

“Yes, but don’t get excited yet. It’s only a meeting.”

“You have been doing this since you were a kid. You’re allowed to be excited when something good happens.”

“I know. I just don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

Leanne had been around fame her entire life. Her dad used to play for the Lakers, and she had done commercials and a few sitcoms as a kid. Acting had never been her dream, though. Modeling was what she wanted for herself. Now agencies outside California were beginning to notice her.

“So what happens if the meeting goes well?” I asked.

“They’ve been talking about sending some of their girls overseas. Paris, Milan, maybe London.”

I stared at her. “You’re saying that as if you just told me you might drive to San Diego for the weekend.”