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I pull out my phone, though Jackson is meeting with Kyle now, he told me to call to let him know how it went. And honestly, he’s the only person I want to talk to right now.
He answers after the first ring. “Hey, wildcat.”
My shaking hands settle as soon as I hear his voice. “Hey.”
He must sense it in my voice. “It went well,” he states.
I smile. “I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“Come on, wildcat. Don’t tell me the politically correct response. You fucking rocked it, didn’t you?”
I laugh. “Okay, yeah, I feel really good about it. They had me read an extra scene for Sydney.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I had been set on Camilla for so long, I hadn’t even thought about Sydney until we taped the audition with Tom. And doing that scene with Jackson had felt so right. Sydney’s her own person, but she’s also overlooked. Which has a lot of her being too comfortable staying in the shadows instead of taking risks. Much like myself.
“I’m good with it. The thought of playing Sydney is actually exciting me more than Camilla. It’s clicking. And I got the sense that Sydney has a bigger role since it’s a series, not a movie.”
“I think you’d be a kick ass Sydney. Tell me more.”
“Well, I had a good rapport with everyone. I wasn’t sure what to expect with everything that’s happened. All I know is I had a good audition and right now that’s all that matters. I’m happy.”
“And I’m happy for you, wildcat.”
“How’s it going there?”
“Good. We met up about thirty minutes ago. I remember him now. We haven’t talked about a lot yet. He’s only a few years younger than me. I found out he aged out too.” There’s a heaviness in his voice.
“Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah. It’s a little weird, but good.”
“Okay. Have a good time. I’m almost back to the hotel. I have a massage appointment waiting for me so I’m going to be all nice and relaxed for you when you get back.”
“Oh?”
“Mmm-hmm, all oiled up and wrapped in that fluffy robe and nothing else,” I say in a flirty voice.
He groans. “Wildcat, you’re killing me.”
“I’ll be in our big bed waiting for you when you get back.”
“You better be. Enjoy getting pampered, wildcat.”
Two hours later, I feel like a million bucks all snuggled into our luxurious king-sized bed, not even bothering with the robe. I check my phone to see if Jackson’s texted about when he’ll be heading back, but there’s nothing from him. I toss it back on the bed then glance out the window at the glimpse of the city I’ve called home for ten years.
Except it’s never felt like home.
Living in Los Angeles has always been part of the job, and honestly, I would happily live in Austin or move back to San Antonio. It’s a crazy thought considering Jackson and I haven’t even talked about the future of our relationship.
A relationship that would have to endure lots of long-distance, even if I change my home base. Is it too soon to be thinking of uprooting my life? Even if I’m happy to leave L.A. in my rearview mirror, are we ready for that kind of commitment?
It feels like we are.
I’ve never felt so deeply, so utterly connected, during sex in my life like I did yesterday on the plane.
It’s not too much. It’ll never be too much. Not with us.
