“You mean… move to New York with you?”

“I don’t think I could ever be happy living away from you,” I said.

Sofia reached out and took my hand. “We’re sisters,” she said simply. “We’re together even when we’re not, do you understand, mi corazón? But New York is not the place for me.”

“I’m not going to leave you by yourself here.”

“I won’t be alone. I have the business, and our friends, and…” She paused and colored.

“Steven,” I said.

Sofia nodded, her eyes sparkling.

“What is it?” I demanded. “What?”

“He loves me. He told me.”

“And you said it back?”

“I did.”

“Did you say it back because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings or because he’s the first man you’ve ever experienced foreplay with, or because you really love him?”

Sofia smiled. “I said it back because I love him for his heart, his soul, and his interesting, complicated brain.” She paused. “The foreplay doesn’t hurt.”

I gave a wondering laugh. “When was the moment you realized you loved him?”

“There wasn’t a moment. It was like uncovering something that was there all along.”

“It’s serious, then? Living-together serious?”

“Talking-about-marriage serious.” Sofia hesitated. “Do we have your approval?”

“Of course you do. No one’s good enough for you, but Steven’s as close as you’re going to get.” I braced my elbows on the table and pressed my fingertips against my temples. “The two of you could handle the business,” I mused aloud. “Steven can do what I do. You’re the only truly indispensable person around here – you’re the creative engine. All you need are people to make your ideas happen.”

“What would it be like for you,” Sofia asked, “hosting a show like Rock the Wedding? Would you have to come up with ideas?”

I shook my head. “I imagine most of it will be preplanned and staged. My role will be to flail around like Lucy Ricardo and then pull everything together at the end. There’ll be pratfalls and manufactured crises, and countless views of my cleavage and my weird dog.”

“It’s going to be such a big hit,” Sofia said in awe.

“I know,” I said, and we both squealed.

Sobering after a minute, she asked, “What about Joe?”

The question made my stomach hurt. “I don’t know.”

“Lots of people do long-distance,” Sofia said. “If two people want to make it work, they can.”

“That’s true,” I said. “Joe’s got enough money to travel as much as he wants.”

“It could make the relationship even better,” Sofia volunteered. “You would never get sick of each other.”

“Quality time instead of quantity.”

Sofia nodded vigorously. “Everything will be fine.”

Deep down I knew all of that was bullshit, but it sounded so good that I wanted to believe it. “I don’t think there’s any need to mention this to Joe until after I go to New York, do you?” I asked. “I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily.”

“I wouldn’t say anything until you know for sure.”

I lasted for most of the weekend without saying a word to Joe, but it nagged at me. I wanted to be up front with him, even though I was afraid of what he might say. I had problems sleeping, waking up repeatedly throughout the night and going through the next day exhausted. This cycle was repeated for two more days, until finally Joe turned on the light at midnight. “I feel like I’ve got a sack of puppies in bed,” he said, a note of exasperation in his voice, but his eyes were warm. “What’s going on, honey? Why can’t you sleep?”

I looked at him in the lamplight, at his concerned face and disheveled hair and that broad chest. I was suffused with a terrible feeling of longing, as if no matter how closely he held me, it would never be close enough. I huddled against him, and he murmured quietly, tucking the covers around us both. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

I told him everything, talking so fast that it was a wonder he could follow. I told him everything Jasmine had said about Trevor Stearns and Rock the Wedding, and how this was a chance that wouldn’t come my way again, and how it was everything I’d ever dreamed of.

Joe listened carefully, interrupting only to ask a question now and then. When I finally paused to take a breath, he eased my face away from his chest and looked down at me. His expression was unreadable. “Of course you have to talk to the producers,” he said. “You need to find out what the options are.”

“You’re not mad? Upset?”

“Hell, no, I’m proud of you. If this is what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

I nearly gasped with relief. “Oh, God. I’m so glad to hear you say that. I was so worried. When you think about it, a long-distance relationship doesn’t have to be bad at all. As long as the two of us —”

“Avery,” he said gently, “I haven’t agreed to a long-distance relationship.”

Bewildered, I sat up to face him, pulling the silk straps of my nightgown back to my shoulders. “But you just said you’d support me.”

“I will. I want you to have whatever makes you happy.”