At the break in the set, she excused herself to go to the bathroom so she could check her email in the bathroom stall. It was a lengthy email from Malaburn with more suggested angles to research along with darts of criticism. She shook her head. He couldn’t bring her down now. She was having too much fun. She sent him a reply that she’d be on it first thing in the morning. She shouldn’t stay out too much later.

The next set went quickly. Rafael and Penny were dancing close. Like dancing with a cute guy was something Penny did regularly. Dating seemed so easy for everyone else.

“Do you want to come to the afterparty?” Jake asked. “I’ll introduce you to Lolly. We hope to sign her tonight.”

An afterparty with a pop star. That was another life. And she’d just been invited to peek inside. She darted a glance at Jake. He looked expectant, waiting for her answer.

She sighed. She wished she could stay out longer, but as Eve had said, it didn’t have to be all-nighters. She just had to take a balanced approach. “I better go home. I have a lot of work tomorrow.”

“Understood.” He didn’t look surprised that she said no. He kissed her goodbye on the cheek. “It’s going to be a late night for me.”

Empty city streets with darkened store windows passed by the Uber driving her home. She was buzzing; it seemed like Jake liked her. Their heated glances, his touch, that warm buttery feeling when he’d held her in his arms. She hugged herself happily. If only she could have stayed out longer, but after all, Jake was working too, and it seemed like he understood. She was going to have a hard time falling asleep. But if she couldn’t sleep, she could always start addressing Malaburn’s latest email. Not likely.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Her phone was ringing. Half asleep, as it was Saturday morning, she fumbled for the phone, only finding it after it ceased. It was her mom with a message to call her back before dinnertime in Paris.

If only she was having dinner in Paris. She had visited her mom in Paris for a week in June in her exchange apartment there. Suddenly, being a romance literature professor able to take a sabbatical in France seemed like a very good career option. With French doors opening onto a balcony, croissants and fresh bread every morning, she’d been tempted to stay herself. Her question of the year was: would the French lifestyle mellow her workaholic mother?

She called her back. “Hi Mom.”

“How are you doing?”

“Good.” Her mom’s voice warmed Audrey.

“How’s work? Are you at work now?”

“No, I’m working from home today.” She stared at the pile of cases on the table in front of her. Highlighters, Post-it notes, pens, all ready to go.