CHAPTER 57

"Table for Emily Carlton," I tell the woman at the front of the trendy restaurant in LA. I follow her back to a table tucked into the corner. "You requested something with privacy. How"s this?" she asks. "Perfect. Thank you." I sit facing the door and watch people drift in. The full weight of my attention is on this meeting. I don"t even know this woman, but I want to like her—and I want her to like me. I smooth the skirt of my simple black dress and wonder if I should"ve worn my hair up instead of down. The nerves didn"t hit me when I confirmed the meeting time, not even on the charter flight with my dad, Timothy, and Shane earlier today. They"re hitting me now. A waitress comes by and offers me the drink menu. "Would you like something?" "Sure, I"ll have a glass of pinot grigio." I recognize her the second she walks in. Her hair is red like mine, and her mouth pulls into a startled smile. "Emily. Oh