Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

But sleep never comes.

How can it, though, when everything in my life feels like a fucking mess?

Harrison

I am officially the world’s most impatient man.

When only the light of the moon shines through the windows of my apartment and I see it’s half past ten, I throw in the fucking patience towel.

I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for the past several hours, waiting for Rocky to reach out to me, but nothing ever came. I even tried to call her again and again and again…a total of five times since she sent her last text early this afternoon, but she never answered her phone.

Fuck. I can’t take this anymore.

Finally fed up, I take the elevator up to her apartment and lift my hand to knock on the door when Heidi opens it right out from under my fist.

“Step aside,” I say. “I need to talk to Raquel.”

Heidi’s face is stern, as always, but it’s not malicious toward me for perhaps the first time since I met her. Instead, she looks semi-contrite. “I tried, but she doesn’t want to talk to you.” She shrugs. “I think the best thing you can do is give her some time. You know how hormones can be. Give her a couple of days to cool down. Try calling her then.”

“I need to see her, okay?”

Heidi sighs. “All right. Try for yourself. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as she steps aside to let me in, and I go immediately to Rocky’s bedroom door. I try the knob, but it’s locked, so I settle for talking through the door.

“Rocky? It’s me. Please, we need to talk.”

“Go away!” she yells. “I told you I don’t want to be bothered right now.”

“Fine. But I’m going to stay right outside this door until you talk to me.”

“No,” she says back swiftly. “I asked you to leave. Leave!”

“Rock,” I say softly, my heart breaking. “Please.”

“Please just go. I asked you to go. That’s what I need right now, okay?”

I chew on my lips and choke back tears as I step away from the door with a nod. I guess it doesn’t matter what I want or how hard I try.

The decision has already been made.

Raquel Weaver is done with me, and it’s time I got the memo.

My walk is swift as I head straight for the front door. Heidi calls out behind me, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Everything was perfect forty-eight hours ago, and now it’s all gone.

And as soon as I can pack a bag, I’ll be gone too.

The only luck on my side in this scenario is that being the CFO of one of the biggest companies in the world makes it pretty fucking easy to get a flight whenever I want.

Yeah. Some luck. You get to head back to New York with nothing but a hole in your fucking chest.

Raquel

I am tired, my body weighs exactly one million pounds, but I refuse for this night to be over yet before I do the one thing that’s been weighing on my mind and my heart. I need to talk to Harrison.

After a long day on set, I finally drag my used-up carcass into my apartment building at two-thirty in the morning, nearly twenty-four hours after I left.

It’s late, horrendously so, but I can’t help but stop by Harrison’s apartment on the off chance he’ll be willing to talk. Other than the time I spent on set, when I had to get into character and focus on a scene, I’ve been thinking about him. I’ve replayed our disastrous conversation from yesterday over and over again inside my head.

And every time I got an opportunity today, I checked to see if he’d called or texted, but nothing. But I understand. If he needed some time to heal after the way I discounted the decision we’d made together about the exploitation of our baby, I should give it to him. I never should have wavered, no matter what Heidi threatened me with as a consequence, and I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on Harrison.

But the world doesn’t feel right anymore without him at my side, and while I’ve tried to give him some space today after finding out he didn’t want to come on set or talk to me, I can’t do it any longer.

I just need to see him.

I knock feverishly on the door, bouncing on my tired toes and waiting. Waiting for him to hear me and come to the door, so we can put it all behind us.

I knock again, harder this time, but an answer never comes.

I take out my phone, find his name in my contacts, and hit call.

Fuck it. Who cares if it’s the middle of the night? I have to talk to him. But the moment I put the phone to my ear, a message plays. “We’re sorry. The number you’ve dialed is temporarily out of service. Please try again later.”