Page 83 of A Love Song for Dreamers

A Broadway show costs millions to stage, and most don’t make that back. Then there are the unicorns, the ones that resonate—Phantom of the Opera,Rent,Hamilton. They cover all manner of things, but they stay withus.

“They’re not all like that,” he goes on at my expression. “A production has to capture people in the right way, at the right time. Most never dothat.”

“That’s why we try. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s hard.” I lean over the railing, staring out at the bright lights of the city as Icontinue.

“I used to think being in the spotlight was about talent or worthiness or luck. But it’s more than that. It’s a thousand choices to try something when you’re afraid, to say yes when it’s easier to say no, to believe in what you’re doing on those days you don’t believe inyourself.

“Do you believe in this enough to fund this?” I blurt, turning towardhim.

His face goes blank, but I’m not here for validation. There’s something more I need fromhim.

“I’m sure people ask you for money every day,” I say. “But I’m not asking you to invest in me. I’m asking you to invest in this.” I gesture behind me. “This idea, this story, this possibility. If you honestly believe it will move people—that’s what we’re all trying to do. I know I’m enthusiastic. But don’t mistake it for naïve. I’ve seen a lot of this industry. I understand you need to make a profit. But I also know you wouldn’t be in it if there was anything else that would satisfyyou.”

I take in his impassive face, my hands fisting at my sides as my heart falls into mystomach.

But after a moment, Jeffrey laughs softly. “You must have been influenced by yourfather.”

Once the question, the deflection, would’ve made me angry. It doesn’t anymore. “We’re always influenced by the people in ourlives.”

“Would he be attaching himself tothis?”

I shake my head. “I won’t ask him, and neither will you. It’s not hisstory.”

He turns that over as I stare out over the street, the people laughing and the cabs passingbelow.

“Well,” he says at last, “we’ll reserve himtickets.”

My glass slips, and I fumble to grab it before it hits the patio. “You mean you’ll fund it?” When I look up, he’ssmiling.

“It’s a fabulous story, and I have a couple of directors in mind. But I won’t pretend some of the appeal isn’t standing right in front of me. Your talent, energy, charm… You’ll make a stellarlead.”

My heart kicks as I drop into one of the chairs on thebalcony.

“Something wrong?” heasks.

“Just waiting for the blood flow to return to myhead.”

I want to tell Tyler. As the conversation inside drifts through the glass, I want to call him. It’s everything Iwanted.

But also, it’snot.

It’s been a week since I came back to New York. Tyler’s back in LA now, finalizing the deal on his new house. We left things in a good place but agreed it was best to keep some space between us for a while, which is why I haven’t reached out to him and he hasn’t reached out tome.

I’m still reliving our time together this summer, the days and nights in Dallas and LA. I decided to write them out like a diary, to preserve them like the perfect memories they are, but every time I start, it’s too fresh and it hurts too much, so I close thebook.

“Are you allright?”

I blink to see Jeffrey, his glassraised.

“I’m great.” I rush to clink my glass tohis.

Sadness makes this moment bittersweet. I try to focus on the good, but my heart’s stillheavy.

* * *

“How’d it go?”Elle jumps on me when I enter our apartment. It’s two in the morning, and I’m ready to fall into bed, but I give her the news, and she shrieks, wrapping her arms around me. “Shit, A, you’re making ashow!”

“Apparently.” My grin stretches across my tiredface.

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