I can’t believe I’ve been caught having party sex by one of Hollywood’s greatest legends. Me of all people.

Not that she technically caught us, but considering the smile tugging at her mouth and the twinkle dancing in those famous blue eyes, I’m pretty sure she knows.

Her smile widens, flashing brilliantly white teeth. She’s eighty-five years old, and she still looks amazing, the classic bone structure of her face coupled with the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth making her look like a goddess of wisdom.

“You must be the young woman Wyatt’s dating,” she says in that wonderfully famous throaty voice. “Kelsey, isn’t it?”

I’m already holding tight to Wyatt’s hand, but now I squeeze it tighter in an effort not to hyperventilate. Anika Segel is talking to me.

I draw a breath and pretend like I’m calm. “Yeah. That’s me. It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’ve been a fan forever. The Girl in the Moon is one of my all time favorite films. You gave such an amazing performance it’s hard to believe it was your first role.” The words spill out on top of each other, and I’m certain I must sound like a starstruck fan. Especially since that’s exactly what I am.

“Well, aren’t you sweet. And I understand you’re something of a performer yourself. A dancer, isn’t it? Wyatt’s said some lovely things about you. He’s said you’re quite talented, but then again he would, wouldn’t he?”

“Grandmother . . .” he says with a warning tone.

“I’m just saying the only real judge is Kelsey herself. Assuming she’s not one of those ninnies who refuses to be self-critical. The things you see on television these days . . .”

She waves her hand as if wiping away the lingering words, then peers at me. “So, my dear. Are you any good?”

“I—well, yeah.” I draw a deep breath, awed that she’s standing here chatting with me. “I am.”

“I believe you.” She steps back and looks me up and down. “You certainly have the look of a dancer. I’ve known many, you know. Gene and I spent a great deal of time together. At any rate,” she continues, looking at me seriously, “you must speak to Lorelei. The project she’s working on has several dance numbers.”

My stomach tightens at the thought. “Oh, I don’t know . . .”

“Nonsense. You must. You’re far too pretty and Wyatt says you’re far too talented not to be a success.”

“Oh. Well, I’m flattered,” I say.

“And I’ve embarrassed you. I’m so sorry, dear.” She leans in confidentially. “Wyatt mentioned you blush.” She turns her attention to Wyatt, who looks a little pink himself. “You’re right. It’s charming.”

“I think it’s time to see to the other guests, Grandmother.”

“He’s trying to get rid of me,” she says to me. “But I can take a hint. Ta-ta, darlings,” she adds, then turns and walks off, calling out, “Martin! You old devil, do come give me a hug.”

“She’s wonderful,” I say, as Wyatt takes my hand. “And so normal.”

“She is,” he says with a laugh. “Wonderful and normal. And we’re very close.”

“I was surprised you told her about me.”

“Do you mind?”

“No,” I say, pulling him to a stop and putting my arms around his waist. “I like it.”

I tilt my head up for a kiss, then sigh happily.

“She’s right about the dancing,” he says. “I don’t understand why you’re hesitating. I mean, surely you’re not still hearing your father’s voice in your head. Not if you’re doing my show.”

“He’s still there a little bit,” I admit. “But definitely not as loud.”

“So why not go on auditions? Not for the small performances you do, but for the theater. For a company.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say, then sigh. “Maybe after all this time, I’m afraid that if I start chasing my dream I’ll never catch it.”

I look at him as I say those words, and see a flicker of something in his eyes. “What?”

“I was going to say that it’s not the result that matters, but the chase. But considering how much I have riding on this show coming off successfully, maybe I’m not the person to say that.”

“No, you’re not.” I hip-butt him. “We’re a lot alike, you know. Must be why we’re dating.” I grin. “You told your grandmother we’re dating.”

“Aren’t we?” he asks.

My smile is painfully broad. “Absolutely, we are. But why didn’t you tell her I’m doing your show?”

We enter the ballroom and are suddenly surrounded by celebrities. It’s like standing in the middle of an entertainment magazine.

“So? Why didn’t you tell her I’m the girl?” I press, as a waiter comes by with glasses of wine.

“She doesn’t know about the project,” he says, and I freeze, my wine not quite to my lips.

“Really?”

“She knows there is a show. But that’s it.”

I nod slowly. “You want to be a hit. To prove you’re a Segel.”

He meets my eyes, then nods.

“You’re going to,” I say sincerely. “This show. I have such a good feeling.”

“I’ve had a good feeling ever since you joined,” he replies, then leans in for another kiss.

I hear a catcall and pull away, confused.

Or, at least, confused until I see Griffin and Nia approaching from a few yards away.

“Hey, man,” Griff says to Wyatt. “Good to see you again.”

“Love the dress,” Nia says, then smiles at Wyatt and extends her hand. “I’m Nia.”

He arches a brow. “Nia Hancock?”

She glances at me. “Gorgeous and psychic. Quite the combination.”

I roll my eyes. “Wyatt Royce, meet Nia Hancock.”

“Best friend, protector, and sometimes job facilitator,” she says. “The pleasure is mine.”

“Why are you here?” I ask her, and she glances toward Griff.

“He’s here because he’s working on that movie with Lorelei. I’m here because his usual date—that means you—bailed on him.”

“Excellent,” I say. “Anyone else here I know?”

“Know?” Nia says. “I don’t think so. Know of. Definitely.”

“She’s been playing the celebrity sighting game as we walk the house,” Griffin says.

“I think that’s cheating here. I’m pretty sure my grandmother invited all the celebrities. At the very least, she crossed the ninety-five percent mark.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Nia says. “You’re Wyatt Segel.”

“I thought you knew that,” he says, but Nia’s scowling at me. “You never told me he was one of those Segels.”

I shrug. “Sorry. It never occurred to me.”

She swoops her right hand under her left arm. “Water. Bridge. Moving on. The point is that everyone is here. And now I need to borrow my girl,” she says to Wyatt. “Because we totally have to gossip. Fair enough?”

To his credit, he laughs, then kisses my cheek. “I’ll find you.”

“You better.”

Nia and I head off, with her pointing out everyone I don’t recognize. “That’s Nikki and Damien Stark,” she says gesturing towards a man I recognize as the tennis star turned billionaire entrepreneur.

“He paid a million for her nude portrait,” I say, feeling a kinship with the woman. “It was supposed to be anonymous, and then someone found out.”

I shiver, thinking how awful that would be if it happened to me with Wyatt’s show.

“And that woman they’re talking to is Jane Martin—she wrote that movie about the kidnapped kids. And the guy to her left—isn’t he hot?—that’s Dallas Sykes.”

“Really?” One of my guilty pleasures is reading the tabloids, and he was all over it for a while. “They called him The King of Fuck. I guess he slept around.”

“They’re married now,” Nia says. “But there was so much scandal, remember?”

I don’t, and she’s about to clue me in, when two stunning women walk over and introduce themselves as Wyatt’s mother and sister. Like Anika, they’re both down to earth, and before they continue to mingle, Lorelei stresses that I really should audition. “I can’t get you the role, but I can get you access. And in this town that’s important.”

“Thank you,” I say, and I really am grateful, even though I probably won’t ever take her up on it.

We wander some more, and I realize after a while that Nia has been steering me to a quiet corner. “Okay,” she says once we’re sitting on a small divan, fortified with fresh glasses of wine. “Tell me what’s up with Wyatt.”

I consider dodging the question, but Nia’s my best friend. And I don’t really want to dodge. I want to talk.

So I tell her the one thing that I’ve been holding inside. The one thing that’s been building in me for days. “I think I’m in love,” I say, but instead of congratulating me or even arguing with me, Nia rolls her eyes.

“Girl,” she says, “you fell in love twelve years ago. Love is not your issue.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Everyone thinks that love is the end. Fall in love and live happily ever after. That’s bullshit, sweetie. Love is work. Like serious fucking work.” She lifts a shoulder. “And I worry for you.”

“For me? You don’t think Wyatt will work at it?”

She slouches back against the divan. “I don’t know him. Not yet. Not really. I’m sorry, Kels, but if you want the cold, honest truth, you’re the one I worry about. You’ve put yourself in a box for so long, sweetie. I’m not sure you can fit anyone else in there with you.”

I start to say something, but she talks over me.

“Which means the only way it’ll work is if you come out of the box. And I don’t know if you can do that. Not if it gets hard and scary. Because Kels, you’re the girl who’s always playing it safe. And sweetie, love doesn’t have a safety net.”

I’m in a sour mood as we leave the party and head toward the car an hour later, Nia’s words still ringing in my ears.

Wyatt glances at me, his brow furrowed. “You want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Just best friend stuff.” Not exactly a lie, but also not the truth.

He looks like he’s going to argue the point, but the chirp of my phone signaling an incoming text cuts him off.

Since it’s probably her, I dig in my purse for my phone, only to frown when I see that it’s not from Nia, but from one of the other teachers.

“Nia?” Wyatt asks, and I shake my head and hand him the phone.

“Another kindergarten teacher. I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Maybe she sent it to the wrong person.”

It makes sense, and I start to tap out a response to let her know her text went astray. But I’m distracted by the fact that both Damien Stark and Siobhan—who I met once at Wyatt’s studio—are standing by Wyatt’s Navigator.

I know Siobhan’s connection to Wyatt through the show, of course, but it takes me a second to remember that Damien Stark is the patron of the Stark Center for the Visual Arts, where Wyatt’s show is scheduled to open.

I slow my pace, cold dread building inside me.

“Should I even ask?” Wyatt says.

“It’s not good.” Stark pushes off the car and walks to Wyatt.

“Considering you don’t exactly get involved with the day-to-day operations of the center, I assumed as much. Tell me fast,” he says. “If it’s bad, you might as well get it over with.”

“Should I leave you alone?” I ask them.

“No.” Wyatt takes my hand. “You’re with me.”

“She needs to stay anyway,” Damien says. “I’m sorry, Kelsey.”

The dread in my stomach forms into a hard knot. Because there’s no reason for a man like Damien Stark to know my name. Not unless I somehow ended up on his radar. And I shouldn’t. Because my photos are supposed to be anonymous. No one’s supposed to know except me and Wyatt and JP.

But they do. I can see it in their eyes. Stark and Siobhan.

“What happened?” I demand.

“Leah,” Siobhan says, exhaling slowly. She passes me a digital tablet displaying a collage of social media posts. I’m too shocked to really focus. But I see enough. One of Wyatt’s images of me with my face blurred out. And it’s side by side with photos of me teaching dance and playing Red Rover at a kindergarten picnic.

“What are these?” I whisper, as beside me I feel Wyatt getting stiffer and stiffer with rage.

“Rumors,” Damien says. “She started a rumor campaign, apparently with the blessing of Roger Jensen. It seems he told her that she’d be getting you a ton of free publicity.”

I clap my hand over my mouth, fighting a sudden urge to be sick.

“She told us everything,” Siobhan said. “JP saw the post on Instagram and realized she must have taken it from the office one day when they were going to dinner. She got close to him on purpose. Presumably, she clued in that Kelsey is your primary girl.”

“That little bitch,” Wyatt says.

“She’s been fired. I have Charles on damage control. My lawyer,” he adds, looking at me.

“But it’s out there already,” I say, passing Stark my phone. “People know.”

A combination of anger and frustration wash over his face. “Damn that girl.” He passes the phone back to me. “I’m so sorry. But please know that if you do lose your job, the center will cover your salary until you find a new one.”

“That’s nice of you,” I say, “but no.” I hug myself in defense against the cold that has seeped into my bones. The icy chill from the cloud of doom that I’ve known was out there since the beginning.

“Kelsey,” Siobhan begins, “you really should—”

“No,” I repeat, my voice low. “I knew this would happen. It’s my fault as much as Leah’s.” I turn to Wyatt. “I pushed the envelope. I did all the things my dad warned me about. And see?” I demand, my words bitter and hard. “See what happened?”

“It didn’t,” he says. “Leah’s idiocy is all on her. It has nothing to do with you.”

He holds my hands tight. “This will be okay.”

“But it won’t.”

“We can still do the show. And if you are fired, you can audition for shows. You can teach older kids. You can choreograph music videos. This can be a beginning, not an end.”

“I’m sorry,” I say to all three of them as tears stream down my face. Then I meet Wyatt’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Kelsey, please. You make the show. Your beauty. Your sensuality. Baby, I need you. Griffin needs you. And if you’ve already lost the job there’s no reason not to do the show.”

But none of that matters. Not now. Not when the weight of every lecture my father ever gave me is crashing down on me. “I’m sorry,” I say before I turn to walk away. “But I really just can’t.”