“Fair warning:the entire Hastings clan will descend upon us the moment we get inside.” Dante laughs, pocketing his phone.
“Wait, let me do my family tree recitation one more time,” I say, inhaling deeply in what I hope is a calming breath but feels more like preperformance hyperventilation. “Alec, Brooklyn, Cameron, Ezra, and Francesca. Parents are Selene and Leo. Cameron’s with Daphne, Ezra’s with Hazel, and I’m currently having an existential crisis.” I tick off each name on my fingers like I’m counting down to launch. Luckily, his siblings are named in alphabetical order, from oldest to youngest, which makes them easy to remember.
“You know,” he says, “most people just wing it and hope for the best.”
“I just want them to like me,” I confess, my voice small. What I don’t add is that their approval feels like a life raft in an ocean of uncertainty—which is probably not the healthiest metaphor I’ve ever come up with, but hey, we’re working with what we’ve got.
Dante opens the car door for me, and immediately we’re bombarded by screaming paparazzi.
“Reese! Reese! Over here!” they shout, cameras flashing like strobe lights.
“Did you cut your hair during a breakdown?”
“How long have you two been dating?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Reese, are you checking into rehab?”
“Is it true you’re taking a break from acting?”
The questions make my stomach turn. Not a single one aboutRobyn Hood. I push down the thought as Dante shields me from the chaos. The cameras continue their relentless assault as we make our way inside the elegant On Cloud Nine hotel overlooking the San Francisco coastline, where we’re greeted by a luxurious space filled with fashion-forward guests and the subtle scent of expensive perfume.
The Hastings family is clustered together, and I have to steady myself. Even after years in Hollywood, where beautiful people are basically a currency, this family is different. They’re unfairly, outrageously gorgeous, the kind of beauty that makes you want to check if there’s spinach in your teeth or if your dress is on backward. Dante’s father, Leo, is distinguished in sleek black, while his mother, Selene, shines in emerald green, her curls doing that perfect, caught-in-the-light thing that makes it look like she’s glowing.
Together, with their children around them, they’re startling.
“Everyone,” Dante announces as we reach them, “she needs no introduction, but I’ll do you all the honor anyway, my Reese.”
His Reese.
My heart flutters at the words, but not for long, as a whirlwind of energy in a shimmering metallic silver suit with sparkling flames dancing up the sleeves practically ricochets into our space.
“Is that my scarf?” She points at Dante’s neck, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“You forgot it in your car, so I put it to good use,” Dante drawls, tugging at the scarf with a cocky smirk. “Though I guess I can’t complain about you raiding my closet, little sister.”
“Ugh, he’s impossible.” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically before turning to me with practiced nonchalance. “I’m Frankie. Thanks for those signed posters, by the way. They look great in my trailer at the track.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“Hey, since we’re here…” Frankie pulls out her phone with a mischievous grin.
“Don’t you dare,” Dante warns, swatting the phone away.
“Oh, stop! I’d love a photo.” I laugh, earning an approving smile from Frankie. She bends down, and we take the photo, our cheeks pressed together.
“Oh my god, you are fucking ripped!” Frankie squeals, looking at my biceps, which are clearly visible in my gown. “Your arm muscles are nicer than Dante’s.”
I do feel strong tonight.
Another figure approaches, her movements graceful and precise. “Don’t mind our youngest,” she says with a gentle smile. “I’m Brooklyn. And can I say, we were obsessed with your movies growing up! We used to act them out in the backyard.” I notice how conversations around us quiet, replaced by scrutinizing glances that dart away when caught.
“Oh my gosh, you never told me that!” I exclaim, poking at Dante’s chest.
Frankie snorts. “Probably because he’d have to admit he dressed up as your character fromHeartland Heritage.”
“Complete with cowboy boots and belt buckle.” Brooklyn’s pink lips curl into a smirk.
