CHAPTER 57 (1)

“Table for Emily Carlton,” I tell the woman at the front of the trendy restaurant in LA. I follow her back to a table tucked into the corner. “You requested something with privacy. How’s this?” she asks. “Perfect. Thank you.” I sit facing the door and watch people drift in. The full weight of my attention is on this meeting. I don’t even know this woman, but I want to like her—and I want her to like me. I smooth the skirt of my simple black dress and wonder if I should’ve worn my hair up instead of down. The nerves didn’t hit me when I confirmed the meeting time, not even on the charter flight with my dad, Timothy, and Shane earlier today. They’re hitting me now. A waitress comes by and offers me the drink menu. “Would you like something?” “Sure, I’ll have a glass of pinot grigio.” I recognize her the second she walks in. Her hair is red like mine, and her mouth pulls into a startled smile. "Emily. Oh my God.” I shift out of my seat as her gaze runs over me. “You’re beautiful.” Her eyes mist, and I let her hug me. “Hi… Mildred.” I can’t say “Mom.” The word sticks in my throat. “Thank you for meeting me.” She’s beautiful too, early forties and still completely fresh-faced and slender, her black jumpsuit revealing long, tanned legs. “I was surprised to hear from you after all this time.” “I’m sorry it took so long. I wasn’t ready.” Her brows pull together. “Of course.” The waitress comes by to offer wine, and Mildred jumps at it. “Tell me everything,” she says once the waitress departs to get our drinks. “I’m not sure where to start,” I confess with a smile. “Wherever you want.” So I tell her about how I grew up in Dallas, then attended Vanier for two years before getting a gig working with Miranda Tamayo writing a new show for the stage. “You’re writing for Broadway,” she gushes as two glasses are set in front of us. “I always wanted to be on Broadway. Do you think you’d have a role for me?” I shift in my seat. “We haven’t even gotten funding, not to mention cast it. But maybe? It will be a lot of work until previews.” “Oh, I see.” Her face falls. “You must know everyone in the business.” I start to say “no,” but I stop at the last minute. “I have worked with a lot of people. I’ve kept pretty busy since school. And every person I meet teaches me something.” “I’m sure. There are so many rich, handsome men in New York,” she insists. “Right.” It takes effort to hold my smile in place. “But tell me about you. How long have you been in LA?” “Ages. I’ve done commercials. And guest appearances on a couple of network shows,” she says with pride. “But I’ve always known there’s something bigger out there for me. Do you feel that way?” My chest expands at her description. I know that feeling. I’ve lived it. Maybe it didn’t come from the world. Maybe it came from the woman in front of me. “Yes. I do.” Her eyes glint as she reaches over the table and covers my hand with hers. “How’s Eddie? I heard he launched a label recently.” “He’s excited. He’s actually in LA, too, for an event later tonight.” The second the words are out, Mildred sucks in a breath. “And you’re going? I’d love to see him again. And meet some of your friends.” The way she says it has me hesitating. “From the letter you wrote to me, I figured you and my dad hadn’t parted ways on the best of terms.” “Well, I’m sure we’ve all moved past it now. He’s quite a charmer. We’d have plenty to laugh about now. Is his wife at this party too?” I slide my hand out from under hers to reach for my wine even though my stomach is suddenly unsettled. “She’s not. And as for the party—I don’t know the host well enough to invite a friend. Dad’s focused on promoting a new artist.” She seems to sense me shutting down and leans in. “Well, I bet the money is better in music than the stage.” “Probably,” I concede. “I don’t think people go to Broadway for the money. But if you want to be part of something incredible and touch people every night, it’s the place to be.” Mildred laughs. “It sounds exhausting.” I try to keep the conversation on her because every time it comes back to me, I end up feeling as if she cares more about what I can do for her than who I am, what I like. We finish our glasses of wine, and I make my excuses before putting her in a cab to go home with a hug that’s shorter on my end than hers, one I wish I could lean into but can’t. By the time the car pulls away, I’m actually aching to go to an industry party with the people I love. “How did I score two handsome dates to this event?” I ask. “Correction. I scored two handsome dates.” Jacob shifts across the back seat in the limo and hooks an arm around my neck. Five of us are in the limo—Dad, Shane, Jacob, Timothy, and me. High-end carpooling isn’t usually feasible in LA, but Jacob surprised us by showing at our hotel, so he came with us. Despite the weird meeting with my mom and the fact that tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane leaving this city without Timothy, I’m grateful for the company tonight. My dad looks up from his phone for the first time and shakes his head. “Haley will be okay,” I insist. “Serena’s with her.” “You won’t miss your kid being born, Big E,” Jacob states. We get out of the limo, Shane lingering behind. I grab her arm and whisper in her ear, “You recorded a single this week that’ll be the first release from my dad’s new label. This is your coming-out party.” “I’m not sure I want one.” Her uncertainty has empathy rising up. “He didn’t either,” I say, nodding toward Timothy, his confident strides eating up the sidewalk. At the doors, Timothy turns, looking for me. “You ready?” “You bet.” I take his arm. We make our way past security into the house of a huge producer. I’ve been to these parties in New York, though a Chelsea loft party has a different feel than a house in the Hills. This is spacious, like our house but with a killer view. The house is modern, all glass, with doors swept wide open out to a marble terrace with an infinity pool. A five-piece band is playing on one side of the pool. When my dad takes Shane to meet the head of the biggest music magazine on the planet, Timothy huffs out a breath next to me. “She’s not ready.” “She’ll figure it out.” He holds my stare, but Jacob and I drag him toward the bar. Jacob insists on champagne all around. “I have news,” he declares, looking handsome in a pale-blue dress shirt that sets off his dark hair and eyes. “My pilot got picked up. We have a ten-episode run. We start filming Monday.” “That’s amazing!” I hug him. “Yeah. I play a cop with psychic powers.” “Wasn’t that Jennifer Love Hewitt?” He shrugs and settles his hands on my temples while Timothy looks entertained. “I see you going home with me tonight, gorgeous.” “Stick to acting.” Timothy grabs Jacob’s arms and shoves them away. Jacob’s eyes dance, and he looks past us. “Oh. No, I’m going home with him.” He takes off, and Tyler turns toward me, stepping close enough his jacket brushes my bare arm. “How are you? We haven’t had a chance to talk alone since you met your mom.” I eye him in the twilight. “She was perfectly nice.” “But.” “But she wanted things other than me.” His expression clouds. “I’m sorry.” “I should’ve known. You were right. I thought she’d be good in all the ways he’s not.