All That Really Matters, Nicole Deese [best detective novels of all time .TXT] 📗

most polished Hollywood grin at me. “Project New You auditions. I got a call from Al Richards and his team. He loved your video. And despite some of your professional hiccups as of late, he and his wife seem smitten with you. They’ve asked to fly you in for a final screening audition next week—said your empathetic attitude is exactly what they’re looking for in a host.” He touched the leather satchel he wore across his body. “I even brought their initial contract terms and negotiations with me to look over with you. I figured I could take you out for a drink, and we could talk everything through together, make sure you’re completely comfortable before I give them the go-ahead to arrange your travel.”

My eyes shot to his, my mouth opening and closing without sound.

“I know, I know.” Ethan chuckled. “I was surprised, too—”

“I don’t understand. I didn’t think you sent in my original audition video, so how can I be a finalist?” Whatever hope I’d had of Ethan forwarding my audition video compilation to producers had died the second we’d broken up in Malibu.

“I didn’t send one in.” He blanched. “Al actually saw a recent video post from you on your channel. It’s what edged out your competitors. He said it was exactly what he was looking for.”

But since I could count the number of videos I’d posted this summer on one hand, there was only one that made any sense. Only one that . . . “Do you mean my last livestream?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Turns out, I was right about you volunteering for such a needy place. Partnering with a cause might have won you the opportunity of a lifetime.” He glanced at the building behind my back, as if he knew a thing about The Bridge other than its name. “Molly, Al’s handing you a chance to go after everything you’ve ever wanted.” His smile actually looked genuine this time. “All our dreams are about to come true.”

Only, my dreams were already coming true, and strangely enough, none of them had to do with hosting a TV show in Hollywood for disadvantaged youth. Not now that I’d been given the chance to be part of the real thing, a real program that transformed real lives and offered real hope, support, and connection.

My dreams were here—with Silas and the kids and this program.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. But I have to turn it down. I’m needed here; it’s where I want to be.” Firm in my decision, I took a step back, only to have him advance two.

“Molly, I know you’ve been in a different headspace as of late. I get it, I do. You needed a break. But this whole enlightenment thing you’ve been experiencing, it’s really just fame fatigue. It’s what happens when you work in the spotlight for so long without taking a step back for self-care. I realize now that I should have been more attentive to you, but I promise everything will be different this time around. Better. Whatever you need, I’ll make it happen for you.”

My hands grew damp, sticky with a perspiration I only felt when trapped. “I can’t go.”

“Of course you can,” he cooed. “I’ll help you every step of the way. And don’t worry about your hair. You’ll have access to the best extensions and stylists Hollywood has to offer, as well as one of the most renowned celebrity therapists in the business. She’s an expert in these issues, and she’ll help you work through everything you’re struggling with here.”

“No, stop. You’re not hearing me, Ethan. I don’t want a Hollywood stylist or a therapist.” How had this conversation taken a turn down this road? Confusion threatened to squeeze out all rational thought. “My life is here. It’s the only place I want to be.”

“You can have Val back, just like old times, but better.” He pulled out his phone, held it between us like an olive branch. “I’ll call her right now in front of you and double her pay, tell her she has a job working with you again if you’re willing to leave all this behind and get your priorities straight again. Come back with me to Seattle tonight. We can talk everything out there before heading to LA next week. You’re so much more than this, babe. Everyone at Cobalt knows it. It’s why we’ve let so much slide. Your missed posts for our biggest sponsors, your lack of livestreams, your . . . poor judgment calls.” His eyes lingered on my hair. “But your potential remains like nothing we’ve ever seen. That record-breaking reach you had last spring, those numbers we saw with your last sponsored campaign, your latest live—you’re at nearly nine hundred thousand followers. We can triple that when you take on this show. Your net worth will be ten times what you made last year. Ten times, Molly! You just need a reset, some time away to clear your head and get back in the game.” He tapped his phone screen with his finger and clicked into his contacts, scrolling down to Val’s name. “Come on, Molly. Don’t let some fame fatigue cost you your entire career. Or Val’s happiness.”

Vivid memories swarmed my thoughts, of the highs he spoke of, of the unprecedented paychecks and the VIP parties and the constant goal planning for bigger and bolder opportunities to be the best in my industry. . . .

I blinked, only to refocus on the phone screen in his hand, on Val’s contact name.

My mind flipped back to her text. Her pronouncement.

“Val doesn’t work for you anymore. She quit.”

Ethan lowered his phone, a flicker of distress crossing his features momentarily. I didn’t know the why behind her decision, of course, but for Val to quit a secure job as a single mother meant she’d had a darn good reason to jump ship.

And I was likely looking at him.

Ethan recovered quickly. “We both know she’d come back in a heartbeat if she knew she could work with you again.”

“Molly?