The bell above the studio door tinked as we walked inside. Dread rushed over me like a blast of air conditioning. I hated what Baxter was about to make me do. I hated that I was going to do this.

I pushed the thoughts away. Maybe I could convince her about Baxter. Maybe we could just run away together and never look back.

Violetta went to find our pieces while I wandered over to the cabinets marked "glaze". Inside, there was an array of colors. Different shades, different brands. So many to choose from.

I took down the lavender and a medium shade of yellow and walked over to where Violetta had us set up. She smiled when she saw the colors.

"Nice choices," she said. "I'll get us some brushes."

I waited until she returned to start painting. Or, glazing, I guess was the correct term. I dipped one of my brushes into the purple and smeared it over the pot. The bristles flattened as they dispersed the color in thick splotches that I quickly tried to even out.

Next to me, Violetta used her brush to create small gentle strokes over her vase. The precision she had, along with attention to detail, was mesmerizing.

Why had she ever given up her artistic dreams? Maybe she thought the acting world would be different. It definitely took a certain skill set that I know I lacked. But creativity came in so many shapes and sizes.

Just like the clay she sculpted, creativity molded to the individual.

Violetta looked up from her masterpiece, smiling. "Looks good, Rea. And for a first-timer, too."

I frowned down at my creation. I bet a child could do better. But there was part of me that squealed just knowing I made something that even that famous Violetta Dawson liked.

A smile crept onto my lips. "Thanks, Vi."

For the next little while, we glazed in silence. Violetta hummed along to the background music. She had such a beautiful voice; I could almost imagine what it would be like for us to—

My paintbrush clattered to the ground. No, I had to stop thinking about what 'could be' with Violetta when I knew very well that it couldn't be. I had to stop the madness before it was too late.

Violetta frowned, her paintbrush perched between two fingers. "Rea, are you ok?"

"Don't call me that," I snapped at her, jumping up from the table. My heart pounded in my ears so loud I could barely hear myself think. My feet thudded against the floor as I abandoned my pottery and Violetta and fled to the door.

Outside, the sunlight was blinding, the air too suffocating. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to go.

"Reagan, what the fuck?" The foul language spilled from Violetta's lips as she appeared outside beside me. Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "What is going on with you? Ever since you came back to the hotel room with breakfast, you've been off. And don't give me that crap about us only knowing each other for a few days. Believe me, I damn well know that."

"I can't do this with you, Violetta." I couldn't even bear to look her in the eye. If I did, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep up my composure.

Tears shone in Violetta's eyes. "I don't understand. Rea, I'm willing to make this work. We take it slow, we get to know each other over more than a weekend. Why are you so willing to end this before it starts?"

Because my heart can't take the ache. "Because you were right. This was all a ruse." I fought against the words that didn't even feel like mine as they tumbled out of my mouth. "I only befriended you so that I could write an article and advance in my career. You were right about me all along, Violetta. All of us journalists, we're the same. We're only after one thing. None of this was real, Violetta."

The mango was peeled; the pit, the hard truth, was now exposed to the air, turning it sour.

People passing by steered around us, gawking at the conversation before hurrying away.

Where were the paparazzi when you needed them? This was sure to be front page news tomorrow.

Violetta shook her head fiercely. "No, I won't believe that. Please, Rea." She begged me with her hazel eyes, eyes that lost their shine as they filled with hurt instead. "Tell me you're lying. Tell me you felt something. Because I did and I know you did too, I just know it."

"I can't."

"You don't have to write the article." Her voice came out small and raw.

I turned away. I couldn't bear to look her in the eye and see my betrayal reflected back. "Yes, I do. Why do you think I've had my tablet anytime I'm not with you? I'm taking notes. Everything was fair game, everything I've used to create an image for my readers."

I'm so sorry, Vi. The words fluttered on the tip of my tongue but stuck like glue inside my mouth. Nothing could change this now.

There was nothing else I could say, so as much as I hated to do this, I walked away from her, effectively marking the end of my vacation and disintegrating everything that could have been into nothing.

The day didn't get much better after I ran away from Violetta. I was angry. I was angry at Spencer, for planting the seed; at Hayden for not discouraging my—whatever it was—with Violetta; at Baxter for pushing me away from Vi.

But mostly, I was angry with myself.

"You always sabotage right when everything is getting good!" Mari accused me. "You care more about your work—"

"And you're never around either!" I threw back at her. "Don't you dare make this just about me. You know we're both at fault."

"Don't give me that bullshit. I have clients who I can't let down." Mari glanced down at the diamond ring on her finger. "I know I work a lot, Rea. That's what I have to do as a travel agent. But you have way more flexibility than me."

"And with that comes a lot of deadlines I have to meet," I argued. "I bring my work with me when I fly out to see you because I can't just not write my articles."

Mari stayed silent for a minute. Then she stood up, and aggressively unzipped her suitcase.

"Mari, wait. Listen—"

What's the point?" she snapped, shoving in clothes haphazardly. "Even when we have these moments together, it's like you're not even here. You're spending our time off writing your articles. Always with your stupid, goddamn articles."

"Marianne, I don't want to lose you," I said, my voice breaking. "But I can't be the wife who has to always schedule time to see their partner. I want a life with you, Mari. That's why I want to marry you."

Marianne glanced up at me, tears in her eyes. Her face looked more tired, the initial giddiness from the proposal three months earlier all but gone from her features. ​​"And I can't be with someone whose work is more important than the woman they're marrying." She took a breath. "So tell me that you can be my wife. My wife. Tell me you won't put your work before me anymore."

I stood by her, frozen. There was the truth and there was the reality. "I want to," I whispered.

"But you can't make that promise," Marianne finished for me. She lifted the diamond ring off of her slender finger. "Then I won't do this, Reagan. Not anymore."

My phone stayed silent, the lack of notifications driving me crazy. A public fight, especially one involving such a hot star, seemed like just the thing that celebrity gossip channels thrived on.

"Hey, stranger."

I looked up, swiping at my eyes. Conrad, Mari's brother, stood in front of me. "Hey, what are you doing out here?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I sort of caught wind of your blow up with Violetta. Actually, the whole internet did."

"And you're here to do what, exactly?" I snapped at him. He didn't deserve it, but everything that happened with Violetta brought up so many things about Marianne that the words just tumbled out before I could stop them.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. What you said to Violetta, how you said it...Reagan, you know she has a point."

I nodded. "I do. That's not what this is about." And so I told him everything, from Spencer's original assignment to Baxter's manipulation. As I spoke, understanding and anger flashed across his face.

"Does Violetta know that you did all of that because of Baxter?" he asked.

"No, I-I couldn't tell her the truth." I looked down at my hands. "Even if I did, it wouldn't change anything."

"Wouldn't it?" Conrad crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't keep using your work as an excuse, Reags. It didn't work for Mari and it sure as hell isn't working for Violetta."

My throat constricted at the mention of his sister. "How am I supposed to even think about being with someone as beautiful and talented as Violetta, someone who sees what she wants and goes for it, when I can't even let myself accept who I am?"

Conrad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "When we love someone, we make sacrifices. We grow with them, we fight with them, but most of all we make it count where it matters. I know you, Reags, and I've followed Violetta for a while. You both needed the chance to find someone who made you feel complete. I would've loved to have you as a sister if you married Marianne. But I can see now that Mar wasn't who you needed; Violetta is. And she's not going anywhere."

Everything I'd known for most of my life was work. Work to make money. Work to make a name. Work, work, work. I'd lost so many people because of it, but I'd also gained perspective, especially in the last three days. It was clear now what I had to do.

I got to my feet. "Thank you, Conrad. I owe you so much."

He winked. "All you owe me is finding your happy ever after."