It’s not that New York has better food than LA, I realize. They’re both wonderful in different ways. I keep thinking, “I can’t wait to tell Miles that I . . .” and then stopping myself, midsentence.

I think back to why I went along with Mary’s crazy suggestion that I fly out to New York. Why I accepted the tickets, and packed a bag, and got on that plane, and headed to the East Coast. I’d spent so long being afraid of change, of trying anything new, and suddenly, as we went wheels up at LAX, I’d felt so electrified my body could barely contain it. Then the fast pace, noise levels, chaotic crowds, and subway fears took over. Without Miles, I don’t think I ever would have gotten out of that headspace.

If it turns out my time in New York was only an extended dream sequence, and I’m heading back to LA at the end of the month, I’d better make the most of this city while I still can.

My phone call with Night-Light Films is set for tomorrow at noon.

I can admire Mary without trying to be her. I can acknowledge that her work inspires me, without emulating it. I’m not her cookie cutter or anyone else’s, and what’s more, I don’t need to be. Can I trust my own talent? Trust my own instincts?

I guess we’re about to find out.

CHAPTER 35 - MILES

CHAPTER 35

MILES

I think Zoey’s ghosted me. I text; I call. I get no response. I get Aisha to text her and she gets nothing in return either. I can’t exactly blame Zoey. After all, I did it to her first. But I need to talk to her.

I keep hoping I’ll run into her. But I don’t. Not at the café, not in our hallway. I don’t even hear her. One day, I knock on her door and then find myself with my ear pressed up to it, checking for signs of life. There’s not even the sound of a whirring air conditioner. I don’t think she’s there.

Feeling dejected, but not wanting to fully entertain the possibility that she really might be gone for good, I head to Tompkins Square Park for a run. That’s when I spot an altogether different set of familiar faces.

Bree and Jude, together, stepping out of Cheese. They are both chuckling, leading me to guess that Jude has made some sort of Little Jude joke.

Jude spots me before I can decide whether to walk by without acknowledging them and gives me a huge grin. “Miles!” He comes over and slaps my shoulder.

I smile back. “Hey, Jude. How are you doing?”

“I’m great!” he says, sounding like he really means it. He pulls Bree over. “Babe, come here. You have to meet someone. This is Miles. My profile ghostwriter.”