The standing joke in Hollywood is that using a standard-required screenplay format will help get the screenplay read.

Twelve-point Courier font is a necessity.

Two brass brads in white, three-hole-punch paper.

With approximately 90 to 120 pages.

Title is important, although not always.

Yes, to play it safe, I delivered my manuscript to Blake Johnson in that format the day Amelia left. And he said yes.

Yes.

Fangirl got the green light!

The yes came almost six weeks ago, five days after Amelia left, to be exact.

And I’ve spent every single one of those days working my ass off to prove to myself I am the right man for her.

That I can be responsible.

Grown up.

Mature.

I moved out of Maggie’s house to be closer to the studio. And truth be told, to be on my own. I rented a condo in West Hollywood, which I have the option to purchase if I want.

Blake is independently producing Fangirl. That means we are moving at lightning speed. Stars have already been attached, and at my request, Chase Parker is playing Kellan. My mother is directing, and Scott Edwards is producing it.

Preproduction is well under way. Location scouting, storyboards, production schedules, permits, budgets, and more are done.

Production design, art direction, costume designs, rewrites, and more rewrites are almost done.

Purchasing film stock, getting a film crew together, hiring a caterer, renting sound stages and equipment—all almost done.

Shooting—about to begin.

And then there is postproduction, which will be minimized to get the movie out by November.

With so much to do, I can’t believe I agreed to meet Keen for lunch today. I stride down the hallway of the Simon Warren offices on Melrose and open my brother’s office door to see if he is ready to go.

He is not the one in there, though.

Imagine my surprise when I see Cam sitting behind Keen’s desk. I’ve been avoiding him since the day we came to blows. Skipping family meals and cutting his calls short.

Truth is—I feel like a shit for what I did.

I don’t regret what happened with Amelia, but I should have been a man about it and told her brother from the start. Proved I wasn’t the asshole everyone thinks I am.

I stumble over my words. “What is this?”

“We need to talk,” Cam tells me, standing up and placing his palms on the desk.

“Yeah, we do,” I respond, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. Not at all liking the ambush, but knowing it is time to put all the cards on the table.

“Then talk,” Cam says tersely.

Uncrossing my arms, I walk toward him, then stop on the other side of the desk and flop in the chair. “I’m sorry.”

He nods, saying nothing.

“I fucked up. I should have told you about what was going on between your sister and me.”

His eyes narrow. “And what exactly was going on?” There’s a challenge in his voice. Something like, say she was your plaything and I might cut your balls off.

With a huge intake of breath, I rub my jaw with my hands. “We…” I pause, pulling my hands down my face. “We started out just having fun.”

His entire body goes live wire.

I quickly add, “Or that is what I told myself. It was never just fun, though. She is a very special woman, and I knew that from the minute I saw her on your porch.”

“Yet, you kept her at a distance?” His tone is angry.

“I did. I was a coward. I said it was because of you, but it was all me. I knew I wasn’t right for her.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because I’m in love with her.” I tell him bluntly, surprising even myself, but knowing it’s true.

His eyes narrow. “And so let her go?”

“Yes, she deserved more.” It’s why I’ve worked my ass off. It’s why I can’t get her out of my mind. It’s why I texted her.

Sitting down, he steeples his hands, and the corners of his mouth quirk down even farther. “That’s really fucked up.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Fuck you, you don’t get to judge. I love her, and want what is best for her. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

“I’m not judging. It’s just if you love her, you have a funny way of showing it.”

His laugh is dry, and I consider my next move carefully. I can tell him to fuck off, that his sister or not, I want her, or I can be calm and act like a man.

Almost instinctively my eyes dart to the wall and the collage of photos Maggie hung. They are of everyone in our happy, little unconventional family. All of us sitting around a bonfire at the beach. On Christmas morning when Maggie gave us all socks she had attempted to knit while she was pregnant that looked more like ass warmers, if there were such things. Of the life we’d all built because we had no one else. Of the life I want desperately to remain a part of. Sure, I’d always have my brother, but I want Cam and Makayla, too. And Amelia. I clear my throat, emotion taking hold of me, and then set my gaze on Cam.

Those gray eyes so much like his sister’s narrow on me. “Ignoring her for the past six weeks isn’t any way to win her back.”

Shock tears through me. “You’re okay with this? I mean with her and me together?”

Cam shakes his head at me. “She’s my sister, for Christ’s sake. All I care about is that she is happy, and if you make her happy, what do I have to complain about?”

I stare at him, my mouth open.

Cam stares right back. “You don’t have a lot of faith in our friendship, Brooklyn, or in yourself for that matter.”

I slam my hand on the desk. “That’s bullshit. The last thing I wanted was to do anything to separate this family we’ve built. It’s the only fucking one I’ve ever had.”

Cam circles the desk and comes to stand beside me, offering his hand. “Then don’t. I think you’re a great man, Brooklyn. I’d be happy for my sister to end up with you. And I think she would, too. If you ask me, you’re the only one who thinks it isn’t possible. That thinks she’s out of your league.”

“Everything okay in here?” Keen is standing in the door.

I look at him, and then at Cam. “Yeah, I think it is.”

“Does that mean you’ll start coming to Sunday dinners in Laguna again? Because I’m sick and tired of cleaning up all by myself.”

“Fuck you, fucker,” Cam says. “I help.”

Keen leans against the wall and props a foot up. “Yeah, right—you help by laying your ass on the couch and warming up the television.”

“That’s bullshit,” Cam remarks, and looks at me. “Tell him, Brooklyn—tell him how much I help.”

I make a face. “Keen has a point. You do end up watching football most of the time.”

“Fuck you,” he says with a smile. “And just so you know, my sister arrives in a few hours.”

“She does?” I ask.

He lifts a brow. “Yeah, she’s moving here. And what are you going to do about it?”

I start pacing a tight line in front of my brother and my best friend. “I don’t know. Do you think she’ll talk to me?”

“Not sure,” Cam breathes out. “She told me you texted her yesterday, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

I pause and ease into one of the two chairs beside him. “Yeah, I did, but when she didn’t answer I just assumed it was her way of telling me to go to hell.”

“You know what they say about assuming.” Cam smirks.

In a surprise move, Keen picks me up from under my arms. “Stop being a pussy and go get the girl. Shit, you write movies for a living—don’t you want to know how this ends?”

Standing on my feet, I shrug out of his hold, and then grin at him. “Yeah, motherfucker, I do.”

“Then tell me,” Keen demands, with amusement in his tone.

“The only way it can. With me getting the girl,” I answer, and head out the door to LAX.

To get my girl.