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“Well, good morning to you both.” Cressida’s eyebrows were raised to Botox malfunction levels as she swept past us, ushering us into the breakfast room, which was decorated in the wedding colors of purple and sand. The affair was more casual than the reception, with a buffet set up against the far wall and guests milling about in friendly clumps.
“I like your boyfriend, Uncle Ambrose. Bring him around more.” Holding a croissant, a bleary-eyed Lex wandered over in a rumpled T-shirt. “He gives good advice.”
Lex winked, but Cressida frowned. “I don’t think that’s—”
“Mother.” Lex adopted a long-suffering tone. “Don’t you want Uncle Ambrose happy?”
“Of course, dear. I only meant not to burden him…er…them with long-term expectations.” Cressida gave me a pointed look I chose to ignore in favor of letting Lex continue their lecture.
“Better that than writing their breakup announcement for them.” Lex stuck their tongue out, completely unaware of how close their retort struck the truth and how much I wished I could stay this happy. Undoubtedly, I needed to be working on a breakup story, not daydreaming about later when we’d be alone and could get back to kissing.
Except, later, the wedding events would be over. We’d be back in my car, and yes, alone, but also without any incentive to keep the ruse going. If I was lucky, I might be able to convince Harley to fool around that night when we stopped. But what about when we were back in LA?
The giant unknown of whether we could keep a friendship, maybe even one with benefits, going was such a distraction that I barely tasted my food. We ended up at a table with Cressida, Lex, and a few other decidedly hungover wedding guests. Nearby, our mother was lively as ever, engaged in a discussion with the newlyweds about sights to see in Hawaii, where they would be going for their honeymoon. And as a further testament to how wrapped up in Harley I was, I’d almost entirely forgotten that Cressida had news about the show to tell me.
“So, about my emails…” Cressida’s voice was low, and I had to blink a few times to remember where my focus was supposed to be.
“You sound ominous.” I narrowed my eyes and scooted my chair closer so I could hear her better. Harley had run up to our room for Hercules’s carrying bag because he’d been restless, switching between our laps.
“Sadly, for once, I’m not being dramatic.” Her mouth pursed as she sighed, giving her a pinched expression and further heightening my sense of doom. Appetite gone, my stomach clenched.
“Tell me. And don’t try to sugarcoat it.”
“Fine. We’re on the cancellation block. The studio sent a list of proposed cuts.” She held up a hand as I groaned, continuing over me, “It’s not official yet, but it’s gone from vague rumor to true risk. It should hit the press anytime now as word of which shows are in danger gets out.”
“But we have a good following.” I tried to match her quiet tone, but pain still leached into my voice. “And Bishop’s plot arc is nowhere near complete. We have all sorts of plans for next season.”
The show had a fabulous writing staff, but I was still the creator. I knew where the ship—in all senses of the word—was headed, and there was so much left to do with the show, so many themes to explore.
“I know you do, darling.” Cressida patted my arm, which did nothing to stop the acid from rising in my chest. “But I think maybe the controversy and political messaging are getting to the network powers that be. And we’re hardly a cheap show. Another reality competition show in our slot would likely be far less expensive for them.”
“And more of a draw than our niche audience.” I sighed because Cressida had a point. Damn it. “But they can’t cancel us. We have too many loose threads hanging. The fans will riot.”
“I’m sure they will.” Cressida was pragmatic, as always. “But not much we can do other than wait until they announce the final cuts. It’s out of our hands.”
“Ugh. I hate this.” For once, I was the dramatic one, slumping in my chair. “How are you so calm about the prospect of cancellation?”
“We’ve been through this before with other shows.” She shrugged like Traveling was just another show, interchangeable with any other, and not the most important project we’d done to date. “I’m almost immune to it at this point, and if the worst happens, I’m sure other opportunities will present themselves, either with this network or one of the others.”
“The headhunters will sweep in for you the second word of the cancellation gets out if it happens.” I pursed my lips. Even with the show ongoing, Cressida got offers for an executive role with the other networks.
