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“What about it? You’ve had months, years, honestly, and you haven’t come up with anything.” She softened her expression. “Shaking things up could help.”
Or it could ruin everything.
“Baking means following a recipe, and…” He couldn’t say it.
“You heard the lawyer. You’ll get the recipe ahead of time, and you’ll have Harper with you every step of the way.”
“What do you mean?”
Mitzi bit back a grin. “She’s your wife. You’re married to her. You’re in this together.”
Would they live together? He hadn’t even considered it.
He blew out a pained breath. “I married her on a dare.”
“I don’t care why you married her. The buzz is real. Don’t throw this opportunity away, Landon.”
Mitzi had to mean the reality show, but he couldn’t help wondering if she also meant Harper.
He took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. “What made you look into a reality show baking contest for me?”
“Madelyn.”
There it was—the matchmaker connection.
He eyed the woman. “This is your doing?”
She smoothed her scarf, unfazed by his irritation. “I know people who know people. I understand that you’re looking to alter the trajectory of your career. I simply suggested Mitzi reach out to Luxe Media and Entertainment. I didn’t realize they were looking for celebrity couples for this project. Isn’t it a fortunate twist of fate that you now find yourself a celebrity married to the internet’s newest It girl?”
“It’s not a real marriage,” he said, the words tasting like ash.
“I disagree,” Madelyn replied. “There’s a marriage certificate and video proof the world is feasting on as we speak. You’re as married as married gets.”
He pulled his cap low. “Why are you still helping me? You said you couldn’t keep me on as a client.”
“That’s a fair point,” Madelyn purred. “I might not have matched you officially, but I’m not one for waste. I’ve had quite a while to work on your case, Landon. I see no harm in allowing what’s been put into place to run its course. And I can always lend my professional opinion.”
“And what’s that?”
The matchmaker leaned against the table. “I find that you’re in an interesting predicament. You’re due to take full custody of Aria, and you also need to write new songs. When do you need to send your music to your record label and the Red Rocks Unplugged organizers? I presume they’ll want to hear it before they offer you a spot.”
Mitzi must have shared that nugget of info with Madelyn.
“I’ve got a little over a month.”
A month to pull together a fresh sound and new tracks. Jesus, could it even be done?
“And if they like what you send them, when would you perform at this unplugged concert?” Madelyn asked and turned to Mitzi like they’d rehearsed this bit.
“The concert is sixty days from today,” his manager answered.
“How curious,” Madelyn quipped like it was the least curious tidbit she’d ever heard. “That just happens to be the time frame for the nanny match trial period. But of course, you’re married, so it doesn’t officially apply to you. Still, if you and your wife require the assistance of a live-in nanny, I can put you in contact with another agency.”
No more nanny-match bullshit.
“I’ll figure out the childcare situation on my own,” he answered, irritation slicing through his words. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I don’t know what’s going to happen with Harper. I don’t know if she wants to stay married to me.”
His chest tightened. Why did it hurt so much to state the truth?
