Two weeks later, Tully stood at the window of her enormous office, staring out. She’d known for ages that something was missing in her life. She’d hoped that moving back to Seattle and starting her own show would somehow fill that empty place inside of her, but she hadn’t been so lucky. Now she was simply more famous, endlessly wealthy, and still vaguely dissatisfied.

As always when she was unhappy, she turned to her career for the fix. It had taken her a while to come up with the answer, a course of action that would challenge and fulfill her, but in the end, she’d figured it out.

“You’re insane,” Johnny said, pacing in front of the window that looked out over Elliott Bay. “Format is king in television. You know that. Our ratings are second only to Oprah, and last year you were nominated for an Emmy. Companies can’t line up fast enough to provide giveaways and promos to our audience. These are indicators of success.”

“I know,” she said, distracted for a moment by her own reflection. In the window glass, she looked thin and worn out. “But I’m not a rule-follower, you know that. I need to shake things up a bit. Mix it around. A live show would do that.”

“Why do you need to do this? What more do you want?”

That was the $64,000 question. Why was it that she never had enough? And how could she possibly make Johnny, of all people, understand?

Kate would understand, even if she disagreed, but her best friend was too busy lately to talk much. Maybe that was part of what was wrong. She felt . . . disconnected from Kate. Their lives were on such different paths these days. They’d hardly spoken since the anniversary party. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Johnny.”

“It could turn all Jerry Springer in an instant, and our credibility would be shot to hell.” He moved in toward her, frowning slightly. “Talk to me, Tul.”

“You couldn’t understand,” she said, giving him the only truth she knew.

“Try me.”

“I need to make a mark.”

“Twenty million viewers watch you every day; what’s that, nothing?”

“You have Katie and the kids.”

She saw when understanding dawned. He gave her the poor-Tully look; no matter how far she ran or high she climbed, that look seemed somehow to follow her. “Oh.”

“I need to try this, Johnny. Will you help me?”

“When have I ever let you down?”

“Only when you married my best friend.”

He laughed and headed for the door. “One try, Tully. Then we assess. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”

The deal stayed with her in the weeks that followed. She put her nose to the grindstone and worked like a maniac, giving up her ever-meager pretense of a social life.