by Tash Skilton
I laugh again.
More guests greet me, asking how I’ve been. It occurs to me that if I hadn’t been lonely when I was a kid, I might never have taught myself to cook, found so much joy in it and become so good at it. I might never have appreciated how wonderful it is to have true friends. The empty space inside me from back then is overflowing now, but if I’d never had that empty space, it couldn’t be filled so deeply with gratitude as an adult.
“It’s exhausting being you,” Sam says, referring to the cake.
“It took us two days and three attempts! Didn’t it, Nina?” Matty calls out.
My heart jumps into my throat when I see her. She wears a pencil skirt and sequined top. She looks breathtakingly, terrifyingly beautiful.
“Hi, Sebastian.” Her expression is hesitant as she meets my gaze.
I don’t reply.
She cuts the first slice of the cake, her hands shaking, and holds the plate out to me. “Have you ever had the chance to try it, before giving it to everyone else?”
“Thanks.” I take the plate from her. “It looks good.”
Instinctually, we move to a quieter location in the room.
“I’m so sorry I broke your heart,” Nina says, her eyes glistening.
We stand there looking at each other, and my heart is a bass drum reverberating through my entire body, my entire soul. I’d like to reach for her hands, stroke her hair, pull her to me. But I don’t do any of those things.
“I’m a catch,” I tell her simply.
I don’t say it to hurt her, or prove anything to her. I hadn’t planned on saying it all. It just fell out.
Janine was right. A job doesn’t give you self-esteem. Other people don’t give you self-esteem. Self-esteem comes from within, and I know what I bring to the table: myself. My loyalty. My caring nature. My love of cooking, my love of taking care of friends and family, of making them laugh. I’m a fucking catch, as a friend and a boyfriend, and it doesn’t matter if Nina agrees, because I know it’s true.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “You are.”
I nod, and pick up the slice of cake she gave me. “I’m going to say hi to everyone. See you later.”
I turn and walk away.
“Wait! Please?”
I look back, to see Nina get down on her knees.
As though maybe, for today, in this one moment, I’m her king. The eyes of everyone in the room fall on us.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sebastian Worthington, will you do me the honor of dating me? From a distance, in separate apartments?”
I gaze down at her. “You want me to date you?”
“Properly. Slowly.”
I must seem confused because she quickly explains. “We’ve basically lived together since we met, either down the hall in the dorm, or in the next room, or shacked up.”
I never thought about it that way before, but it’s true.
“This thing between us is far too amazing and singular to burn through quickly,” she says. “I want us to last forever and I think we forgot a few steps. I don’t want to skip any of them. Let’s carve out a deliberate space for us, not a convenient one. Let’s build in time apart so the time we do share with each other is sacred. Something to plan for, and look forward to, and delight in.”
A grin slides onto my face. “Does this mean we’ll talk on the phone?”
“Yes.”
“Phone sex?”
She grins back. “Why not?”
“La la la, youngster in the house.” Matty covers Maritza’s belly as though protecting the baby’s ears.
Nina looks up at me from the floor, resolve written all over her face. “I promise to say good night and leave, but always, always come back.”
I respond with a solemn vow of my own: “I promise to slow down, to give us space so I can value the time we do spend together. I promise to see you as you are, a person in the world who’s allowed to have doubts and fears and make mistakes, just like me.”
“I promise to be open and honest, to tell you the truth, and have uncomfortable conversations. To not spend the night and stay up late except on special occasions,” Nina adds.
“That sounds awful,” Sam jokes out of the side of his mouth.
“It sounds perfect,” I breathe. And it does. Perfectly messy. Perfectly us.
“Is that a yes?” she whispers. “Will you date me?”
I pull Nina up so she’s standing, so we’re face-to-face, equals.
So we can fall into the best kiss of our lives.
Epilogue
NINA
Five Months Later
I’m putting the final touches on the Bacon-Wrapped Water (Sprite) Chestnuts, a galley of Sebastian’s cookbook propped up on my kitchen counter. It’s paperback and flimsy so it keeps closing on me, but the hardcover—which releases in two months, just in time for the CoRaB season finale—is going to look beautiful. We went through several channels to ask Francis Jean to approve a blurb (“The cake’s so good, it makes you want to sing and dance!”), but never heard back.
There’s a knock on my door and when I open it, the real-life version of the author photo I was just staring at is grinning at me. He bends down to give me a kiss and I reciprocate so warmly that we are full-on making out within seconds.
“Uh,” Sebastian says after a minute. “Are you sure we need to have other guests tonight?” He keeps kissing me, finally forcing me to playfully push him away.
“Yes! Come on, it’s your big night!” I take the postcard that’s sitting on my mail table and hold it in front of my lips to deter him from kissing them. It’s a picture of Sebastian in his debut role as portly, balding Brothel Owner in episode 602 of Castles of Rust and Bone, airing tonight.
Sebastian grimaces. “Well, at least we now know what that ‘unspecified publicity’ on my pay stub means.” He takes the postcard that his agent mailed out all over town and shakes his head. “This is the most unflattering photo anyone’s taken of me, ever. And that includes the three months Millie tried to document our lives Big Brother–style and I didn’t know she had set up a hidden camera aimed at our toilet.”
“I think you look hot,” I say as I kiss him on the cheek. “Now have a seat. Take a load off.”
My new apartment is small and it’s going to be a squeeze to fit ten people in here tonight, but the beauty of it is that it’s all mine. Sayeh loaned me the money for the deposit and when my dad offered to help subsidize some of the rent, I let him. My new temp agency job doesn’t quite help me make ends meet all on my own, but it did let me finish my spec script. The Reboot has currently been entered into two screenwriting competitions and—most excitingly—an HBO fellowship program that would provide me with a year of mentorship in a real writers’ room. I should be hearing back any day now.
Sebastian has just settled on the couch when the door buzzes. Sam comes in with Trina, a girl he met at PodCon. She’s brought a bottle of prosecco and is dressed as a punk centaur so I already like her. Dina and José come in next. They’re my new friends from the office where I’ve been stationed these past six weeks. Dina immediately launches into a conversation with Sam while José compliments me on the hors d’oeuvres, for which I immediately offload credit on Sebastian.
“You made them!” Sebastian says.
“Yes, but I just followed the recipes you created. You’re the real star here,” I say.
“How about we just give you split credit and leave it at that?” José says. “You can be the hors d’oeuvres version of the Coen Brothers. Or the Wachowski Sisters.”
“Um, can we not be related though?” Sebastian says as he puts a very unbrotherly arm around my waist, cupping my bottom.
I shrug. “I mean, in CoRaB-land, it’s the only way to have a lasting relationship.”
Sebastian laughs as he gives me a kiss.
José looks confused. “Just what is it I’m about to watch?”
“The greatest time travel/high fantasy/cen
taur-appreciation mindfuck of your life,” Sebastian says. “Walk with me. I’ll give you a down and dirty prologue.”
The doorbell rings again and it’s Matty and Maritza. I give a loud guffaw when I see them. Maritza, who’s set to pop any day now, has taken advantage of her huge belly to cosplay as Sebastian’s brothel owner character . . . and so has Matty. They’re both sporting bald caps, warts, and two sets of terrible teeth.
“Are you kidding me?” Sebastian says when he sees them.
“We wouldn’t celebrate your big debut with anything less,” Matty says solemnly as he claps him on the shoulder.
Celeste and Sayeh arrive next, with two bottles of Goop-endorsed organic wine.
“Is Celeste back with her ex?” I quietly ask Sayeh, who rolls her eyes.
“This week. Like, I don’t have time to constantly be a love doctor for all of you all the time, you know?”
I smirk at her. “It ain’t easy being a mogul and wise beyond your years.”
“Don’t I know it,” she huffs as she pops a bacon-wrapped date in her mouth.
Sam joins our conversation, looking delighted. “How do you know my podcast sponsor?”
“Your what-now?” I ask.
“Celeste is my first podcast sponsor. Killing it with the holistic therapy subscription boxes.”
I have so many questions but they’ll have to wait; the doorbell rings again and I catch a glance at Sebastian’s perplexed face.
“Who’s missing?” he asks as he counts everyone in the room.
I grin as I hold the doorknob. “I have a surprise for you,” I say, and open the door with a flourish.
Standing there, about twenty pounds lighter than we last saw him, is Stanley, our old RA.
Sebastian’s eyes widen. “Stanley!” he says, as he goes over to give him a hug. “How are you, buddy?”
Stanley remains standing stiffly, unsure what to do at the unusual show of affection. “Uh. I’m good. Here’s the cover charge Nina said to bring.” He holds out a bottle. Sebastian takes it, reads it, and gives a burst of laughter. Then he turns to me, his eyes shining with love and memory.
I hear Matty and Sam greet Stanley warmly and ask him if he’s excited to see the show. “I mean,” Stanley says, “it’d be pretty hard to fuck up worse than season five, but I have faith. No one minds if I live-tweet this, right?”
I walk over to Sebastian and lightly touch the bottle of farm-fresh goat’s milk Stanley just handed him. “I’ve achieved power beyond my wildest dreams,” I tell him with a wink.
We look at each other, barely able to hold in our giggles.
“I’ve achieved everything beyond my wildest dreams,” he says, as he leans in and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Me too,” I say as I clasp his hand. “This is my favorite show.”
But I’m not looking at the TV. I’m looking at our entwined hands, and then up at Sebastian’s beautiful face, the face I can lean over and kiss anytime I want. Because when you kiss a friend, the friendship doesn’t have to die. It can be transformed into something even more profound; rooted in camaraderie, but with wings.
I touch my lips to my best friend’s and I can hear him say, right before we kiss, “And it was ever thus.”
Acknowledgments
A huge thank-you to agent Victoria Marini, for her grace and guidance during the particularly tough challenge of pandemic writing (and living).
So many thanks to all the wonderful and hardworking people at Kensington: Alicia Condon, Jane Nutter, Jackie Dinas, Alexandra Nicolajsen, Kristine Noble, Lauren Jernigan, Carly Sommerstein, and Elizabeth Trout.
—Sarvenaz Tash
Hollywood Ending was written in 2020, during personal and global turmoil. The books I read that year provided a true escape, and I hope any readers going through a tough time right now were equally transported by these pages. I needed this book for many reasons, including as a reprieve from the outside world.
Sarvenaz, thank you for pouring your talent and humor into Nina and bringing her to life so beautifully. Celeste’s antics made me laugh out loud, the details you created for CoRaB and the Kingdom of Six were brilliant, and your narrative voice is unmatched.
Super-agent Victoria Marini, thank you for your steady hand and calm assurances.
Alicia Condon, thank you for your spot-on editing wizardry! I had fun brainstorming titles with you.
Also at Kensington, thank you to associate publisher Jackie Dinas, creative director Kristine Noble, director of social media Alex Nicolajsen, production editor Carly Sommerstein, publicist Jane Nutter, social media manager Lauren Jernigan, assistant editor Elizabeth Trout, and proofreader Kate Brandt.
Thank you to all the folks at Droemer Knaur, our German publisher, for your enthusiasm.
Thank you to my rapid-fire beta readers, Rachel Murphy and Amy Spalding, for your encouragement and insight. Rachel, I’m so grateful we could be together that June. Amy, I owe you for keeping me sane (as much as possible). To my parents, Earl and Ros Hoover, thank you for all the FaceTimes and babysitting. Your sage advice and loving support mean the world.
The book Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd provided fun research, as did a certain internship I took at a certain network TV show during college that certainly did not inspire any moments in this book. Myriad fabulous and/or bizarre jobs I had in Hollywood during subsequent years made a few fictionalized cameos as well.
My POV character Sebastian Worthington hails from Sherborne, Dorset, a place I hold dear. Thank you to my mom’s side of the family for letting me borrow it! I also want to thank Ithaca College (where, yes, Vivarin actually came in our welcome packs—back in 1995 at least—and where I met my IRL “friend-to-lover” Joe), and Los Angeles, in all its wackiness, for being my home since 1999.
If Ghosting was a love letter to New York City, this book was LA’s chance to shine; and if “work is love made visible” (Gibran), Elliot and Joe are my forever inspiration.
—Sarah Skilton
Ghosting: A Love Story
LEAVE IT TO THE EXPERTS—TO BREAK ALL THE RULES
Online Dating Ghostwriting Rules to Live by
MILES
Dumped by his fiancée, not only is Miles couch-surfing across New York City, but downsizing has forced him to set up shop at a café. Also, he no longer believes in love. Not a good look in his line of work . . .
Do not present a “perfect” image. No one will trust it.
Nor should they.
ZOEY
Zoey’s eccentric LA boss sent her packing to New York to “grow.” But beneath her chill Cali demeanor, Zoey’s terrified to venture beyond the café across the street....
Think of your quirks—such as cosplaying B-movies from the 1980s—as a “Future Honesty.” Save these as a reward only for those who prove worthy.
The only thing Miles and Zoey share is their daily battle for Café Cru-dité’s last day-old biscotti. They don’t know they’re both ghostwriting “authentic” client profiles for rival online dating services. Nope, they have absolutely nothing in common.... Until they meet anonymously online, texting on the clock . . .
Never remind the client you’re their Cyrano. Once you’ve attracted a good match, let the client take over ASAP.
Soon, with their clients headed for dating disaster, both Miles’s and Zoey’s jobs are at stake. And once they find out their lines have crossed, will their love connection be the real thing—or vanish into the ether?
CHAPTER 1
To: All Tell It to My Heart Employees
From: Leanne Tseng
Re: New “Office Space”
Team,
Although the last couple of months have been challenging, I want to take a moment to commend you for being so open and adaptable to our new direction. I also hope you are all enjoying the freedom and independence of working remotely. (I came across this article in Wired about the future of offices. We’r
e trendsetters!)
Also, whoever programmed my phone to play “Tell It to My Heart” for all incoming messages. . . I appreciate the joke. It played very well at our “Farewell Office” office party. But no one—not even the so-called geniuses at the Genius Bar—can seem to disable it.
Would you please come clean and get over here to change it back? For obvious reasons, if I ever have to listen to that song again, I will 100% murder someone. And no one gets paid if your CEO is in jail.
Yours,
Leanne
MILES
It’s fine. It’s absolutely fine.
So what if my ex-fiancée just posted a photo of her ringless fingers cradling what is very obviously a baby bump. So what if we only broke up six weeks ago and, look, I cannot claim to be an expert in women’s reproductive health or anything, but I’m pretty sure that is not what six weeks pregnant looks like. So what if I, in a split second of confusion and elation, texted her “Are we having a baby?” with an actual goddamn baby emoji next to it just in case she needed a visual representation of the word “baby” and got absolutely no response even though the read receipt confirms she saw it.
So either the baby is mine and Jordan has decided she’s not going to let me be a part of his or her life. Or . . . Jordan was cheating on me before she dumped me, shattered my heart, and stole the apartment.