A week stretched into two as Kate lingered in North Carolina. She’d gone so long without being recognized that her previous life seemed slightly surreal.

It was a humbling reality check.

She continued video sessions with her therapist, met Lori for lunch most days, and had physical therapy for her knee in the afternoons with her new trainer. She read the first hundred pages of Don Quixote (which gave her a headache), wrote some amazing new lyrics, and enjoyed the freedom to drive around and do whatever the hell she wanted to.

She explored, went hiking in a nearby state park, and wandered through Target to pick up supplies for the apartment. It was wonderful, but already she felt restless. She missed her home. She missed her dogs. She itched to get back to work, to sing, to dance, to feel the love of her fans pouring over her as she took the stage.

She was treading water here in Raleigh, but what came next? How did she pick up the shattered pieces of her life and put them back together?

She had canceled all her previously scheduled public appearances and deleted the social media apps off her phone. It wasn’t until Harry brought it up during a phone call that she realized she’d missed the Fans Voice Awards. Marin Starr had taken home the award that had once meant everything to Kate. She felt oddly distant and unaffected by the loss now.

Kate would be back to reclaim her crown next year.

Her therapist gave her homework every Thursday. This week, she was supposed to come up with two “happy places” she could visualize when she was feeling stressed or panicked. She had to write a full page about each, using all five senses, right down to the smallest detail.

Her first place was the stage. She was singing “Saved,” one of the new songs she’d written that she envisioned as a future hit, a powerful ballad about pulling herself up from the bottom. She was in a small theater, wearing a floor-length blue dress that shimmered beneath the lights. A sole acoustic guitar played behind her. A few hundred of her most loyal fans stood before her, singing the lyrics and filling Kate with their love and support.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, lost in the vision.

Option Two, as requested by her therapist, was completely different. Kate sat on a tropical beach with undisturbed white sand stretching as far as she could see in either direction. Before her, the sea was a perfect shade of turquoise. It rolled with lazy waves that lapped at her feet and caressed her ears with their rhythmic hiss and slap against the sand. The sun warmed her face, and Josh’s arms were wrapped securely around her. His hair tickled her cheek.

She lost herself in the fantasy, allowing herself to bask in the warmth of his arms and the illusion of a happy ending between them. It was so much easier than remembering the truth. Because no matter what Lori said, Kate just couldn’t see any way around the fact that she and Josh were over.

With homework finished, she pushed her journal aside and pulled out the latest batch of fan mail Jenn had sent over. As usual lately, it was filled with stories of rape, abuse, and other hardships her fans had made it through and how her own story had helped them find strength. Her throat clogged with tears as she read them.

In one of today’s letters, the teenage girl who’d written mentioned that she wasn’t able to afford therapy and that her insurance didn’t cover mental healthcare. Kate wrinkled her brow. Lori had mentioned something similar when she’d suggested her mother seek help. Kate had taken for granted the ability to seek help when she needed it, but how many others couldn’t afford the same luxury? As she picked up the pen to respond to the letter, an idea was taking root in her mind. She sat with her head in her hands, staring out the window.

The opening bars of “Dream On” drew her attention to the cell phone beside her. Harry’s handsome face filled the screen.

“I hope you’re sitting down,” he said.

She glanced down at the worn desk chair in which she sat. “Why?”

“I’ve landed you the perfect movie role. Antigone’s Field with Lance Deering. He’s offered you Antigone.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yes. He plays golf with Van Moorse and heard firsthand about your performance in Final Testimony. This is it, Kate. This is the one. Mark Standish has already signed on as Phillip. Shooting begins in Provence, France, at the end of the month.”

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “Oh my God.”

Antigone’s Field was a bestselling novel, the “it” book of the decade. Anticipation over the movie had been buzzing for years. It was a heartfelt drama about an artist who escapes the confines of her American life to paint in the French countryside. Antigone finds success painting the beautiful landscapes of France, but her newly simplified life is complicated by Phillip, an American businessman who sells her paintings and captures her heart.

This was a big-budget Hollywood production. The role of Antigone had been coveted by many of today’s leading ladies, but director Lance Deering had so far been tight-lipped about his choice.

“You’ll be shooting in Provence through June. It’s gorgeous there, the stuff of postcards. Think of the music you’ll write as you gaze out over the lavender fields. I’ll be able to book you in the studio by the time you get home.”

Kate thought she might float right out of her chair. Harry hadn’t even asked if she’d take the part. Of course, she would take it. An opportunity like this came once in a lifetime. She’d made it as an A-list actress. Antigone’s Field was a guaranteed blockbuster, a surefire way to put herself back in the good graces of her fans. And a few months basking in the French countryside?

Heaven.

“How much?” she asked.

“I thought you’d never ask. Ten million. Welcome to the big leagues, my dear.”

She nearly dropped the phone. “Holy shit.”

“Congratulations. You deserve this. Now start packing. We’ve got some prep work to get you ready.”

“Will do. And Harry…there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Mmm?”

“I want to start a foundation.”

“Okay,” he said.

Quickly, she outlined what she had in mind. His news had cemented her decision. Hell, she could fund the entire thing on the salary from this movie.

“I think that’s wonderful, on all ends,” he told her.

“I’ll be home on Monday. Can you get things rolling in the meantime? I’d love to have it set up before I leave for France.”

“Consider it done.”

She hung up with a happy feeling stuck in her chest. There was one more item on her to-do list, and she picked up the phone to make another important call.

---

Josh turned off the Pacific Coast Highway and pulled up in front of a black wrought iron gate. According to the “Map of the Stars” in the passenger seat, this was Kate’s Malibu home. Not that he could see her home. From the driveway, he had a lovely view of her trees. At least here in California, she had privacy. No wonder she considered this home.

Feeling somewhat like an intruder, he stepped out of the car and walked to the buzzer beside the gate. He pressed it and waited, but there was no response. The video screen remained dark, although she could very well be watching him from inside. The beady eye of a camera peeked from the ivy that ran over the metal bars of the protective fence.

“Kate, if you’re in there, I just want to talk. Please.” He waited, then walked to the other side of the gate and peered through the bars for a better look. Through the foliage, he glimpsed a Spanish-style white stucco wall and a sliver of a sapphire-blue pool.

Kate’s house was as closed off and protected as the rest of her. And it illustrated her parting point perfectly. They did belong to different worlds.

The thing was, he didn’t care.

He loved her, he needed her, and if there was any remaining chance for them, he meant to fight for it. He waited and pressed the buzzer several more times, pleading with her to let him in. Was she there? Had she seen him and turned away?

Dammit, Kate. Last week, he’d called her cell phone only to be informed by the operator that the number was no longer in service. Now, he’d flown three thousand miles, and he was going to discuss this with her in person, one way or another.

Finally, he got back into his rented Mustang convertible. Maybe he’d enjoy a ride up the coast and try again later. He had the whole weekend before he had to return to New York. If she was in town, that should be more than enough time.

But by Saturday evening, he was beginning to have doubts. He’d driven by after dark and seen not even the faintest glow of light from the house behind the trees. There’d been no activity on her social media accounts since before Christmas, over a month ago. A Google search on her name produced no recent photos. It seemed unlikely she could be here in LA without the paparazzi knowing about it. But if she wasn’t here or in New York, where could she be?

He stood at the window of his hotel room on Sunday night, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Defeat sat in his gut like a slab of granite. Of course, it had been a long shot coming here. Even if he’d found her, who knew if anything would have changed? At least he could feel he’d given it one last shot. He could have told her that he loved her.

But as he stared at his phone, willing it to ring, a crazy idea occurred to him. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was a desperate man. He opened the camera app and started recording. “My name is Josh Randall…”

His heart was racing by the time he’d finished, his palms damp. He sent the video to Gabe. His buddy would know how to do what needed to be done. The rest was up to Kate. It was a long shot at best, but it was the only shot he had.

With a heavy heart, Josh packed his suitcase and headed for the airport, alone.

---

“We’re going out,” Kate told Lori the moment she stepped through the door.

“Um, okay.” Lori dropped her purse on the kitchen counter. She kicked off her black pumps and rubbed the arches of her feet. “What’s the occasion?”

“You’re looking at Antigone Marion. I leave for Provence in two weeks.”

Lori’s eyes widened. “As in, Antigone’s Field?”

She nodded, grabbing her sister in an impulsive hug. “I can’t even believe it. Pinch me.”

“Whoa.” Lori spun her, and they sprawled over the couch. “This is huge! I mean, it is, right?”

“Huge,” she agreed. “And celebration worthy.”

“So you’re going to France?”

“Until June.”

Lori cocked her head. “What about Josh?”

Kate tucked her knees under her chin as the niggling pang she’d ignored all afternoon exploded into a full-blown, heart-shattering pain in her chest. By the time she got back from France, he’d have left for his sabbatical in Spain. And by the time he returned next spring…well, who knew where she’d be by then?

“It’s over. It’s been over.”

“Kate—”

She threw out a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“You can’t wait that long to tell him you love him.”

She looked away. “Who said I was going to tell him?”

Lori sighed. “You should tell him.”

“I can’t.”

Lori leveled her with a hard look. “You’re running away instead of facing your feelings.”

That hit uncomfortably close to home. “How would it ever work, anyway? My life is in LA. His is in New York. I travel all the time. Everyone knows long-distance relationships don’t work.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Kate stood and walked to the window. “This is too big. I can’t pass it up. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“You’re choosing your career over your life.”

“My career is my life.” Her voice sounded flat. For a few months, there had been more to life than her career. Now that she knew how it felt to be in love, to wake each morning consumed by thoughts of Josh, of touching him, of being touched, the depth of the emotional connection that had existed between them, her perspective had been forever altered. The prospect of returning to her old life only left her feeling empty inside, and that scared the hell out of her.

Lori stared at her a long time in silence. Then she shrugged. “Well then, congratulations. Let’s go celebrate.”

The funny thing was, Kate no longer felt like celebrating.