Page 57 of The Reunion

The coffee suddenly feels too sour in my stomach, the taste too bitter.

Mars sighs. “Unfortunately, when a company becomes a monolithlike Fanline has, not even its founder has the final say on every issue, especially once the investors get involved. It’s difficult in this case because Shine is actually fully in favor of the fresh creative direction—which is a hurdle of its own for us. She insists she’s not done with the financial conversation, but as it stands now, she’s been backed into a corner with the shareholder votes and a handful of issues that have more to do with the merger itself than the show.”

“This is a lot to take in at ten in the morning,” I say, an understatement. I have to leave for the studio in an hour—I wish I had the entire day off to process.

“Take your time, sit with it for a bit.”

I hear a clinking noise through the phone, imagine her stirring a glug of cream into a fresh cup of coffee; who knows how long she’s already been up this morning, dealing with this.

“I know there’s a lot wrapped up in the idea of walking away—but there’s also a lot for you to walktoward, Liv. I’ll support you in whatever you decide, but I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t give you my honest gut feeling, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mars.”

It’s one thing to think theoretically about walking away—but now that it’s a real decision I have to make, I feel a little sick.

“I’ll check back with you about it,” she says. “Don’t talk about what’s going on with anyone until we settle on a decision, not even Bre or Attica.”

Not even Bre or Attica: this is the moment it hits me how big the implications would be if I were to say no—I can’t let on toanyone, not even to the rest of my team, that I’m considering walking away fromGirl. It’s too late to keep it from Ransom, thanks to our conversation last night at his place, but hopefully he knows better than to mention it. If there’s a chance I want to stay, despite everything, we can’t take any risks with it getting back to Fanline. This has the power to cause significant rifts.

After we end the call, I stare out at the water for longer than I really have time for, turning the decision over and over in my head. It stings a bit to know they want to shift the focus away from Honor, but atthe same time, they’ve told her story, and—thanks to our new reunion episode—she and Duke will finally have the happily ever after the world has been begging for. It makes sense to explore the other sisters; I get it.

What bothers me more is the way they’re going about trying to make it happen—betting hard that I’m too attached to the show that launched me to superstardom, too emotionally indebted, to even consider walking away. It isn’t right. They’re expecting me to make big decisions with my heart instead of my head.

The line where sea meets sky blurs. Walking away would affect more than just me; all my worries from last night start to resurface. Would Ransom have a part in the show if I wasn’t in it? Would there stillbea show at all? Would the fandom support my work on other films, or would they turn on me for ruining a thing they love? I think of those friendship bracelets on my nightstand, of the people who sent them. It’s so much more than a show for so many people, and the show is so much more than just me.

Right now, it feels like I alone have the power to ruin it.

My phone vibrates, startling me out of thought:James Robertson will arrive at 11:03 am, it says, the automatic notification alert from the GPS in Jimmy’s Mercedes. That’s only fifteen minutes away, I realize with a panic. I’m still in pajamas—I somehow haven’t even eaten breakfast.

I take a deep breath, watch as the seagull dives back toward the water for another catch.

The fish never saw it coming.

In the time it took us to drive to the studio, I practically could have walked. I’m over an hour late when I finally arrive, thanks to an extraordinarily bad wreck on the 101, and the mood on set is tense. It doesn’t help that my own mood is a bit volatile, between the traffic and my call with Mars and the six texts I’ve received from Attica asking me to post various things on social. I’ve been looking forward to today’s shoot all week—a scene with Ford, Ransom, and an actress named Cassidy,who’s playing Ford’s girlfriend, all taking place at a shabby little diner set made to look like it’s just off the beach of Aurora Cove—but it’s immediately apparent this is not going to be the chill, relaxing day I’ve been hoping for.

I’m barely inside reception when I see Bryan leaning against the back of the sitting room’s plush pink couch, arms crossed. It’s a bad sign: that he’s not mid-shoot means I’ve seriously disrupted the schedule.

I hold my head high as I shift my sunglasses to rest on top of my head and look him straight in the eye. “Morning,” I say with an easy smile, as if I can make Bryan forget it’s technically past noon.

“Your watch looks entirely too new to be broken,” he replies, giving my rose gold Cartier a glare.

“Thank you,” I say. “It was a gift.”

The barest hint of amusement crosses his lips before he catches himself.

“Maybe you can send a gift to my kid tonight when I miss dinner? It’s going to be a late one.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t be staying late anyway, Bryan.” I’m skirting the edge of a razor-thin line, knowing I’ll only get away with it because it’s true—and because I can always tell when he’s irked at the world at large and not just me specifically. Right now it’s mostly the world.

He runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes, making no effort to hide his exhaustion.

“You have no idea. Because you are hideously late.” He gives me a scolding look, but it’s toothless—I’m in the clear. “But between you and me? I needed the break.”

I grimace. “That bad?”

“Ransom’s head is in the clouds,” he says. “You know how he gets when his father’s on set.”

“Mr. Joel is here? Today?” My mind spins, grasping for any memory of Ransom mentioning it last night.

---