“Can you believe it’s happening?” She holds my arms and squeals. Finally, it’s not forced excitement for the sake of cheering me up. Her eyes sparkle with the same sheen of the glitter on her lashes, and she’s squealing. “You and me, together—shit, Andi, we’ve been dreaming of this day for years!”
My heart speeds up a bit, and it’s the first sign I’ve had all day that my decision to return to Los Angeles was the right one. I smile at her. “I wouldn’t be here without you,” I tell her. “You are… You mean everything to me.”
She blinks, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of mistiness in her eyes. “We’re a team. You and me, Andi. We’re doing this together—and guess who’s going to be in the audience?”
I moan. “I don’t want to know.”
“Better that way.” Lisa winks, but it doesn’t help the butterflies flapping about in my stomach.
She met with Nick Bennett shortly after I did, and he told us to start practicing our material for the audition in front of a live audience. This is our first show ever performing stand-up together, as a duo, and it’s happening because Nick Bennett worked his magic in bringing the show to life.
There’s a crowd out there; I can feel it. Rick was whistling when he came backstage a few minutes ago to announce the ten-minute countdown to show time, and he never whistles. He hates people.
But tonight, people must be making him money, because Rick made his son show up to sling drinks. For the first time ever, Phil (from the mailbox) doesn’t have a front row seat. He lives here, and even he didn’t arrive in time.
“Agents, other comedians, casting directors, producers, directors.” Lisa flops on the couch. “Is this what it feels like right before we make it?”
“Don’t jinx anything! We haven’t made it yet. I haven’t retired from Peretti’s Pizza, and until I have, I’m not jumping to any conclusions.”
“Capisce,” she says. “Then let’s get our asses out there and make it.”
We grasp hands for a moment, our fingers squeezing, the excitement zinging between as we make our way toward the stage. Rick is shouting that it’s show time, Phil is whistling from the back row, and preshow chatter is at an all-time high as the guests wait for the main event.
Lisa lets go of my fingers just before we head on stage, but not before she takes a second to wink at me, smile, and give a word of encouragement. “You ready to dream big?”
I laugh, because I can’t help it. I’m nervous and exhilarated, a feeling I never thought would be possible so soon after leaving Ryan’s bed this morning. A pang of longing hits me, and I find myself wishing he were in the audience tonight too, sitting next to his buddy, Nick.
I shake off the wishful notions as we emerge underneath the lights. All thoughts of Ryan disappear as I stare into the crowd. Lisa is laughing, smiling, waving at everyone, but I freeze. It’s a full house, a full frigging house. I don’t care that the house is small in the scheme of things—I’ve never played a club where there was standing room only. People are standing at the back, and every chair is taken.
Thankfully, Lisa has her wits about her and opens the show, cracking a joke about this being both of our first times, and it goes over well. I turn to face her, still trying to make my feet move forward. This is how it’s going to end, I think. I’m going to die right here of stage fright, and poor Lisa’s going to be left doing the show alone.
This isn’t how I planned to die.
Then, I see him, and I decide that maybe I can’t die yet.
That shaggy brown hair, those fairytale eyes that could melt a woman’s heart from across the room, that powerful torso that’s built to play, to protect, to hold me close under the shelter of the stars. Ryan Pierce.
In his hands there’s a stack of pizzas—at least ten of them—and I recognize the logo on the edge of the box: Peretti’s Pizza. He’s in the middle of handing out slices to all of the audience members, and everyone looks thrilled by the hot and ready pies. He’s even given an entire pizza to Phil.
My heart—what’s left of it—shatters into little pieces. I think it’s breaking for the sole purpose of seeing if he’ll be the one to put the pieces back together again. His eyes lock on mine, and mine lock on his, and in that moment, I am ready to give up everything.
But he gives his head a slight shake and flicks his chin toward Lisa. I follow his gaze and find Lisa there, holding the microphone out to me, her eyes expectant. I snap to it, a surge of adrenaline kicking my fears to the curb. My longing for Ryan is replaced by my loyalty to Lisa—at least for now—and I vow to not let her down.
I grab ahold of that microphone, and a beat later, a natural smile finds my face. I step forward to the edge of the stage and, just as we rehearsed, we run through our ten-minute bit. The audience is laughing, chuckling—I think Phil wiped a tear from his eye. I’m on cloud nine, cloud ten if that exists, cloud freaking nineteen if I can find it.
Rick flashes the red light at the back of the room, and I catch a glimpse of a grin on his face. We’re a hit, I just know it. I pass the mic back to Lisa and she wraps up with our final practiced joke, and the crowd erupts.
Throughout all of it, my eyes scan over Nick—who’s giving us a smile that looks like dollar signs—past a casting director that I know has worked on big blockbusters, past everyone until I find him. Ryan.
“Thanks, folks,” Lisa says. “Enjoy the pizza. Order Peretti’s, and have a great night!”
Lisa drags me backstage before I can run to Ryan, and I go, but only because she’s on the verge of tears. She’s jumping up and down, hugging me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m in shock.
“We nailed it!” she cries. “We’re going to make it, Andi, I know it! Did you see the room out there?”
I manage to hug her back, and her arms are like pythons squeezing the life out of me. I go limp and work on taking deep breaths, but it doesn’t work. Then I lose all of my breath when the curtain to the backstage area opens and it’s Ryan, alone, holding a pizza.
Lisa must hear the catch in my breath because she pulls away, asking if I’m okay.
I nod, and she follows my line of sight.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Right. Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to Nick. I’ll leave you two alone to…well…”
She squeezes my fingers and, with a final smile, disappears.
Ryan and I are alone, and the air is crackling with tension. I equally want him and wish him away. If we can’t make this work, seeing him will only make the pain of losing him ache longer.
“I brought you something,” he says with a wink, breaking the silence. He lifts the pizza box higher. “I figured you’ve delivered me enough sustenance to last a lifetime, and it was time to return the favor.”
“Peretti’s?” I look at the box. “I don’t understand.”
He sets the box on the table. “I needed to talk to your dad.”
“What?” My heart thumps in my chest. “Why?”
“It’s too soon to ask you to marry me, Andi, and we have too much to figure out,” he says. “But I wanted him to know my intentions.”
I blink, fidgeting with the lace on my shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m not understanding…”
“I want to date you, Andi.” He steps forward, takes my fingers in his hands—hands that are large, warm, and capable of so many wonderful things. “But I don’t want to date you for one night. I don’t want to fake date you or have you play some stupid game. I play games for a living. What I want with you is real.”
“But your agent…”
“She’s not my agent,” he says, his jaw firm. “I went to her office this morning to set the record straight. She offered to sign me, and I said no.”
“Why? Ryan, you can’t! These are your dreams, what you’ve worked for your whole life. Maybe I overreacted when I left this morning. We can figure things out, make something work—”
“I don’t want to make something work, I want to be with you—out in the open, for the whole world to see. I just need you to say yes. Tell me you’ll give me a chance to make things right.”
I hesitate. “But—”
“We’ll figure out the details. I want you to have your career, and I’ll have mine. We can have a condo in Los Angeles and a house in Minnesota—whatever it takes. I will do anything to be with you, Andi. Anything.”