Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

My stomach growls in a message from the baby. Eating is important.

Heidi—and everyone else in the room including Ben—laughs. “You’re engaged, Raquel. Yes, it’s that important that you sit together.”

Ben pats my knee, and I suddenly want to start crumbling buildings like King Kong. I know it’s at least partially the hormones, but dear God, does the man have absolutely no respect for the personal space of strangers?

Fearful that I’ll come out of my skin if I stay here any longer, I get up from my spot on the couch and make my way into the bathroom. I conveniently have to pee, so I take a deep breath, do my business, and wash my hands.

After a brief pep talk in the vanity mirror, I make my way back out to the living room, only to find that Ben the space-hogger is taking up my entire spot now. I maintain my approach because surely he’ll move when he sees I’m returning, but I make it all the way to the arm of the sofa without him moving an inch.

I clear my throat, and he looks up at me…and smiles.

No movement. No recognition. Just blatant freaking space-hogging.

I jerk my head toward my spot, ruling out any and all possibilities of being subtle, but he still doesn’t take the hint. “I’m good,” he says to me instead. Like I was fucking offering to get him something.

It’s sudden, but I find myself unequivocally connected to the girl in The Exorcist.

My head is quite literally spinning.

This fucker has got to be the worst fake fiancé on record, and I’ve seen a lot of them.

But Harrison is gone, and the horse is already out of the barn. There’s no turning back.

Golden Globes, here I come.

Harrison

Frank Sinatra would probably roll around in his grave if he knew how quickly I’m leaving his beloved New York, New York behind.

It’s official. I’m leaving the place I’ve called home since I was ten years old to head to the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, California.

Although, personally, after being privy to the inner workings of Hollywood courtesy of Rocky’s manager and PR team and God knows who else is on her staff, I’m not impressed.

But I’m more certain now than ever that I’m doing the right thing.

Moving to California allows me to be close to my future child, and thankfully, I don’t have to risk the career I’ve worked so hard for in the process. I will continue to work bicoastally as HawCom’s CFO, and I’ll be able to sleep easier knowing I’m close to the baby that’s growing inside Rocky’s belly.

Some people might think I’ve lost my mind, but I’ve never been one to put too much thought into what other people think. I guess that’s a gift I learned from my late father.

I am the creator of my own destiny, and being the best father I can be is the destiny that I more than want to create.

Boxes litter the room around me, the contents of which contain anything and everything I’ve acquired over the last ten or so years of my life.

My TV, though, still hangs on the wall in front of my couch, the screen alight with the pageantry of a Hollywood red carpet. Sadly, it took me a pathetic amount of time to Google what channel this awards show was even on.

It’s the Golden Globes, by the way. Not the Big Hollywood Night or the Famous People Event, as I had originally searched.

Rocky wears a floor-length, cream-colored gown with an embellished deep V in the front. It cuts down through her cleavage all the way to the apex of her growing baby bump. It’s not huge yet, but I could swear she’s grown—our baby has grown—even since I left California four days ago.

And I can’t stop myself from wondering about the current state of her mind since she’s yet to call me.

I didn’t want to leave without talking to her personally, but when Heidi answered her door early that morning, she said Rocky had already left for the day and wouldn’t be back until that night.

With a dinner meeting with my boss and one of our largest investors, I had to head back to New York. I figured writing her a personal note before I got on the plane would at least give her the option to get in touch with me anytime she wanted while I’m here.

And I guess that’s still true—she just hasn’t wanted to contact me, I guess.

This is hard, I remind myself. And it’s harder on her.

She didn’t plan this baby any more than I did, and as she’s the person actually carrying it, her life has been upended more than just theoretically. She’s had to change the way she does everyday tasks and adjust to all the new things this means for her career.