  &quot;That thing you wanted me to keep an eye out for? I&quot;ve got a lead on it,&quot; Jacob says over the phone as I shift out of my car at the studio the next day. &quot;Four bedrooms. Ocean view. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Don&quot;t drool on your shoes.&quot; I shake my head as I grab the front door and head inside. Shane waves at me, and I nod. &quot;Get the realtor to chase it down for me.&quot; &quot;Done. Long as I get first dibs on bedrooms.&quot; I&quot;ve been saving for a place on the beach. My plan is to get my surgery, fix my hand, and get back to my album in warm weather&mdash;no more cold winters that make my hand feel useless and broken. But that&quot;s not the only reason for my upbeat mood. I could chalk it up to my surgery coming up soon, but it&quot;s not that. It&quot;s the time I&quot;m spending with Emily, but also creatively, helping Shane. Hell, I even started 

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  <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">There&quot;s nothing like the morning after a night that doesn&quot;t end. Last night I rewrote the final song for the musical completely while staring at the studio before falling asleep in my chaise lounge, my notebook on my lap. The fog I&quot;ve been wrestling with cleared and I accomplished what I&quot;ve been trying to for months. I was so sure of it, I took a screenshot and sent it off to Miranda Tamayo last night. When the sun comes up, a slice of vibrant orange on the horizon, the paper is on the patio next to my chair. My phone buzzes with a message from my writing partner. It&quot;s short and sweet. Miranda: That&quot;s it.   Satisfaction and pride settle in me as I shift out of the chair, rubbing a hand through my hair. The tile cool under my bare feet, I stretch my sore m

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  <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">Timothy Adams is a sore loser. We play games on the plane back from New York. It&quot;s been a while since I traveled first class, but with him, I wouldn&quot;t care if we were stuffed in with the bags. Sitting next to him, hearing him laugh and seeing him smile, is amazing and maddening. &quot;It&quot;s a word game app,&quot; he argues, jerking his chin at my phone in his hand for emphasis. &quot;You&quot;re going to win by default.&quot; &quot;That&quot;s not true,&quot; I say, wrenching the device away from him. &quot;Man up and compete already.&quot; He narrows his gaze. &quot;You&quot;re going to attack my masculinity in the middle of a commercial flight?&quot; Then I feel a tickling at my waist and stifle a surprised shriek. &quot;Sorry,&quot; I say to the flight attendant and t

&quot;That thing you wanted me to keep an eye out for? I&quot;ve got a lead on it,&quot; Jacob says over the phone as I shift out of my car at the studio the next day. &quot;Four bedrooms. Ocean view. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Don&quot;t drool on your shoes.&quot; I shake my head as I grab the front door and head inside. Shane waves at me, and I nod. &quot;Get the realtor to chase it down for me.&quot; &quot;Done. Long as I get first dibs on bedrooms.&quot; I&quot;ve been saving for a place on the beach. My plan is to get my surgery, fix my hand, and get back to my album in warm weather&mdash;no more cold winters that make my hand feel useless and broken. But that&quot;s not the only reason for my upbeat mood. I could chalk it up to my surgery coming up soon, but it&quot;s not that. It&quot;s the time I&quot;m spending with Emily, but also creatively, helping Shane. Hell, I even started work with the songs Zeke sent me, though I&quot;m not about to admit it until I go back to LA. Which I

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