Page 59 of Falling Like Stars

The urge to reply is strong; with herculean effort, I put my phone down because that’s what Rowan wants. What she needs. And I decide to follow her example and pay more attention to what I need. Like selling the house and finishing my divesture from Eva.

Before I can get off the couch—which I’m not in a hurry to do—my phone vibrates with a new call. I glance at the number with its St. Louis area code.

“Shit.” I pick up and gingerly put the phone to my ear. “I’m hungover. Have mercy.”

Admitting weakness was my first mistake.

My twin brother, Jeremy, inhales. “Well, hello Mr. Fancy Pants,” he bellows. “Too much Dom Perignon at the Brown Derby with Robert De Niro? How is ole Bobby De Niro, these days, Zach? Eh, Zach! ZACH!?”

“Okay, okay,” I say, covering my eyes to keep them from popping out of my head. “I’m a dick. I get it.”

Jeremy makes a tsk tsk sound. “You don’t even call your own mother on Oscar night. Your own mother, Zachary.”

“I texted,” I say helplessly. “It was a long night. Some stuff went down. Not all good.”

My twin picks up on my tone and instantly downshifts from his usual happy-go-lucky shit-talk. “Let me guess. Eva.”

“Naturally.”

“I was surprised that you took her. We all were. What happened?”

“Usual bullshit.”

With a little side of domestic violence and God-knows what else.

“Anyway, it’s over.”

Jeremy snorts. “If I had a dollar...”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. But she’s lost her mind. I’ve turned it all over to my lawyers and I’m selling the house.”

“Sounds serious. Damn, Zach. Why don’t you come out here? Take a break from the Hollywood scene?”

“Can’t. Too much work to do.”

“You’ve been working nonstop since Godsent,” Jeremy says. “We hardly remember what you look like.”

“Check your mirror. I look like you, but hotter.”

“I walked into that one.” He laughs. “Hey, your speech was excellent, by the way. Thanks for the shout out. Mom was crying her eyes out, and Dad was pretending he wasn’t. We’re all so damn proud of you, bro.”

My own eyes sting. “I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Zach,” Jeremy says. “You sure you can’t come out for a bit? Jump on that private jet of yours, at least for a weekend?”

I nod, trying to think over my pounding head. “Yeah, okay, let me get my shit sorted over here first.”

“Good. And bring your Oscar. There’s a chick here I’m trying to impress.”

“When is there not?”

Jeremy laughs, loud and heartily. Growing up, people would tell us my older brother—older by four minutes—was a less cerebral version of me. Always laughing, always up for a good time. But Jeremy was never bothered because he’s smart as hell and just as observant. Like now.

His laughter falls out of his tone. “But Zach? No fucking around, I’m worried. You don’t sound good.”

“I told you, I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re hungover. But you don’t drink much. Something’s off; I can feel it. My super-twin powers have been activated.”

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