Lauren squinted at the clock in the darkness of her hotel room. The angry green numbers told her it was after two and she’d yet to fall asleep. She fell back against the pillow with a petulant sigh. Her brain wouldn’t stop running through all the possible options. She touched the lonely pillow next to hers. She’d met success in Hollywood, yes, but she hadn’t found happiness. She’d been infinitely happier back home, and never so happy as when she’d had Carly with her.

Just the thought of her made Lauren’s heart hurt. Understanding that sleep was outside of her grasp, she sat up in bed and took out her phone. Because she was apparently a glutton for punishment, she googled Carly’s name, partially because she wanted to see her face, and also because she wondered if there’d been any casting news.

When she saw an article on The Hollywood Reporter’s website about her taking the Hennessy job from Carly, she went still. Scanning the short piece left her hands shaking and her stomach nauseous. It was bad enough that Carly didn’t get the role she’d so badly hoped for—it was worse that she’d lost it to Lauren, and exponentially unfair to have her nose shoved in it by the press. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Carly, but she’d been shut out. She shook her head and scrolled, pausing on a photo of Carly posted by a fan to Instagram. Lauren squinted and clicked on the photo, blowing it up larger, only to see Carly dancing that very night at a club in West Hollywood.

She fell back against the pillow, trying to understand.

That’s when she got it. The resentment, the unreturned messages, the late night excursion. It was what she’d feared all along.

Carly was more important to her than she was to Carly.

She’d simply refused to accept it until now.

Lauren stared into the quiet of her hotel room and focused on the lights of LA just outside her window. What was she doing here? Chasing an old dream from when she was too young to know any better? Whatever gratification she got from her recent successes wouldn’t last and shattered in the face of what she’d lost in Carly.

She didn’t want it under these circumstances. Any of it.

Without giving it another moment of consideration, she flipped on the light, retrieved her suitcase, and set to packing for the third time in two months. She found a reasonable fare home on the internet, if she didn’t mind traveling early. She definitely didn’t. She needed to get the hell home.

Chapter Eighteen