“He said I’m his dream, Kelley!” I clutch the phone to my ear as I pace my room. It’s really more like a large closet these days since I spend all my nights with Tate in the master.

“But you didn’t tell him you love him?”

“Well, no. And thanks for pointing that out… Can we just focus on the fact that a man told me I’m his dream?”

“That’s…great.”

I pause. “Your voice makes me think otherwise.”

“No! I’m happy for you, really. It’s just, what does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s saying.

“Well, you’re going out now. For real.”

“Right…”

“Then what about the engagement?”

I glance at the sapphire weighing down my finger. It serves as a constant reminder of what Tate and I are to everyone. I know what we really are, but the world see us as some fairy-tale couple getting married next spring. Tate had dropped that hint during one of our six interviews last week.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t think it changes that we stay engaged until Tate lands a part.”

“But you’ll stay together after he gets that, right?”

I frown. “I would think so.” A real relationship doesn’t come with an expiration date.

“So, then…” Kelley trails off.

“I know, I know!”

“Well, maybe you should start asking yourself these questions!”

I storm over to my closet to pick out an outfit for tomorrow. “I can’t think about that right now. I have my audition tomorrow afternoon. Just let me get through it first.”

“That’s what you said about your audition last week.”

“So?”

“So I think there’s always going to be something to distract you. Something that’s vying for your attention…”

I snort. That’s not true. I’m not running away from my problems.

“And I think you’re ignoring the reality of your situation,” she continues.

Crap.

“I know I’m being a total killjoy, and you have my approval to rain on my next parade, but I’m trying to be your friend. Friends don’t let their bestie drive drunk—on vodka and love.”

I slump against the wall. “I know, and you’re right. This is something I have to figure out because I’m positive Tate’s not thinking about it either.”

“What was your plan, anyway? Have a really long engagement until you two are ready to get married? Like, coast from a fake engagement into a real one?”

I cringe. “Something like that?”

“Charlotte!”

“What!? I mean, it sounds bad when you put it like that…” The line falls quiet. “Kel?”

“I’m here. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Only a fatal flaw in your super well-thought-out plan.”

“Hey! Go easy, now. It was a draft…and you might as well just say whatever it is.”

“You’re not going to like it,” she warns.

“Spill.”

“Okay.” Kelley sighs. “What if Tate never proposes?”

The dress I had picked off the rack slips from my hand.

“I mean, I don’t doubt that you two are in love, even if you haven’t gotten around to saying it, but people have different beliefs about marriage. I don’t want you to set yourself up for something that may never happen.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Harsh, Kel.”

“I know,” she moans. “Brutal honesty is my curse. But I’m only looking out for you. It would be my dream come true if you and Tate rode off into the sunset, hand in hand, and starting making ridiculously beautiful and talented babies.”

I give a sad smile. Mine too—except with a little more time between the sunset and making babies part. But the dream is one I share, deeply and passionately.

“Alright,” Kelley says. “Enough sad talk about hypothetical futures. Why don’t you go back to basking in the glorious rays of your man, and just cross that bridge when, or if, it comes.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

“When’s your audition tomorrow?” Kelley asks, steering the conversation into safer waters.

“Four o’clock. I’m really getting nervous, too.”

“You’ll do fine. Tate’s taking you, right?”

“Yup. He said he’ll wait in the lobby the whole time.” I smile at the memory of Tate holding my hand as he promised me that I’d only have to look at the theater doors and remember he’s on the other side.

“That’s a relief.”

“You have no idea. I don't think I could do this without h—” I pull the phone away as the gate buzzer goes off. “Kel? I have to go. Someone’s at the gate.”

“’Kay. Talk to you after your audition. I’m here if you need me!”

We hang up as I reach the control panel. “Hello?”

“Bel Air Florist for a ‘Miss Laine’?”

I glance over at the screen. Sure enough, a florist van is idling in front. “That’s me. I’m buzzing you through.”

I grab my shoes and open the front door as the van pulls up to the walk. The man hops out, slides open the van door, and disappears inside. He resurfaces a moment later with the largest bouquet of red roses that I’ve ever seen.

I gasp as he draws closer. Between the roses are flecks of green and white—ivy and baby’s breath. It’s beautiful and romantic and I know exactly who it’s from.

“Miss Laine?” he asks, holding out the arrangement.

I grunt under the weight of the flowers. “Yes, thank you.” I stumble back inside, heave the bouquet onto the kitchen counter, and rummage through the foliage for the card.

To Char, Good luck tomorrow, you’re going to kill it! Sorry I can’t be there, but remember that I’m in your heart, rooting for you, and that we’ll celebrate Gunner-style when I’m back. Yours, Famous Guy.

I’ve dialed Tate’s number by the time the card hits the countertop.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, babe. What’s—”

“You’re not coming tomorrow?” I practically shriek.

“What?” He curses under his breath. “Did they deliver your flowers already?”

“Yes. And your note says you can’t be there! What’s going on?”

“Christ, I’m so sorry. I told Marcus to have them delivered later this evening so I could call you first.”

“You had Marc pick them out?” My eyes flick to the enormous bouquet sprawling across the counter. It suddenly doesn’t seem so thoughtful or romantic.

“Well, yes…but only because today’s been ridic—”

“Did you even write the note?” I’m upset to discover that tears are beginning to form in the corners of my eyes.

I will not cry, darn it.

“Of course! Charlotte, please let me explain…”

“You’d better. Because I’m having a hard time understanding why you’d break your promise.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I have to go to New York tonight. I’m taking a red-eye straight there after filming wraps up, but I don’t even know when that’ll be—” He sighs. “Today’s been rough. Nothing is going as it should, everyone’s screwing up scenes and lines…”

I wipe a tear off my cheek. Okay—you get ONE tear, Laine.

“…and this sudden call to New York just makes things worse. I tried to reschedule with them, but tomorrow’s the only day the director, producer, and choreographer are all in town.”

I frown as my conscience steps in. Tate sounds exhausted and genuinely sorry. He didn’t ask for this, so why am I being ridiculous?

“It’s okay, Tate. You sound like you’ve had a tough day.”

“It’s one for the books. The only thing getting me through it is the thought of seeing you, and now that’s gone.”

I sigh. He knows how to blow the hot air right out of me. “You, me, and a bottle of wine kinda night?”

“Definitely. And maybe a little between the sheets action…”

I giggle.

Tate groans. “God, Char, I’m getting hard just thinking about you in my bed, wearing nothing but that naughty black thong—”

“Tate!”

“What?”

“People could hear you.”

“Nope. I ducked into my trailer when you called. I’m all alone—well, me and Little Gunner…”

“I’m not having phone sex with you.”

“Why not?”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s have a little fun together when you swing by to pack.”

“I can’t Char,” he says, the playfulness gone from his voice. “I have to leave straight from the set. Marc is coming by the house to pack for me.”

Those annoying tears return, but this time from sadness. “Oh… Well, I’m going to miss—”

I stop as a voice mutters something in the background. Tate holds the phone away to answer. I catch “five minutes,” and then a door shutting.

“Hey, babe? I’ve got to go. We’re tackling that scene again. Tenth time’s the charm, right?”

“Right, no problem,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You go ahead.”

“I’ll text you when I’m leaving for the airport, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper hoarsely. I have about ten seconds left in this “I’m cool” act.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

I’m about to pull the phone away when he speaks. “Oh, and Char?”

“Yes?”

Five seconds…

“I’m going to miss you, too, babe.”

A tear escapes and rolls down my cheek as the line goes dead. I stare at the wall for a few seconds before everything finally hits me.

The phone tumbles from my grasp as I collapse in a heap on the floor. The tears I’ve walled up come pouring out. They stream down my cheeks in rivulets, leaving hot trails of disappointment, frustration, and hurt in their wake. I’m not a crier, but…how did Tate put it?

This is one for the books.

I know I’m being selfish. It’s not like Tate wants to miss my audition, the one he promised to be here for, or go to New York at the drop of a hat. He’s only doing what I told him to do: follow his dream. I don’t ever want it to be an either-or situation between me or his career. I should be happy he’s taking my advice…

Right?

I take a deep breath, trying to slow the tears streaming from my red eyes. Too bad I’m not. This still hurts. I’m still disappointed. And my heart is still bruised. He said I’m his world, but what if our relationship does have an expiration date? It might not be today or next month or next year, but eventually, it could end if Tate’s afraid of commitment.

I remember Kelley’s words of warning. Tate may not be the kind of man who believes in marriage. And that’s fine. Not everyone has to believe in marriage.

But I do. I want to share my heart, my life, my last name with someone. I want to exchange vows with them in front of everyone I love. I want a life partner, a teammate, a best friend as we move through the challenges of life together.

That’s where everything falls apart in my poorly made plan, because Tate may always choose his career over us. And that’s something I have to come to grips with…or risk being hurt over and over, time and time again.

I wipe my cheeks and push myself up off the floor. No more tears tonight. I have the audition of a lifetime to prepare for.