Page 157 of Happily Never After

“It’s fine,” Jack added. “It flew north. Here,” he said, reaching into his back seat and pulling out a new Taser. “In case the chipmunks stage an uprising next.”

“Deadbeat Dad’s got jokes.” Claire snatched the stun gun from him. There were five more inside concealed beneath various pieces of furniture, but she wasn’t going to turn her nose up at a free weapon. Not after everything they’d been through in the past month. She turned on her heel and cut across the yard. Charlie followed her, but Brianna stuck her head inside the car.

Even under the blue tone of the streetlight overhead, Brianna looked like an elf princess from a fairytale as she skipped lightly over the asphalt and came back with a gallon-sized storage bag that looked to be full of cookies.

“Mom made us cookies. They’re vegan, but I can confirm that they’re edible,” she said, brandishing the bag.

“Let’s go back inside. I don’t want to shame-eat these where they can see us.” Claire stepped into the foyer and snapped the door shut behind them.

CHAPTER SIXTY

To Do:

- Find a sneaky place to do Ted Talk power stance

- Make sure Bri’s flowers were delivered

The limo pulledto a stop in front of the TCL Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard. Claire’s heart thumped in her chest despite her anti-anxiety medication.

“Why am I nervous? This is Bri’s movie. No one here knows or cares who I am.”

“Well,” Luke said, climbing out of the leather-padded seat and resting his hand on the door. “You are a nationally recognized proposal planner and the person who changed the Hollywood sign. And Bri’s sister. And, you know, a surviving victim of a serial killer.”

“Great. Thanks for the reminder.” She flapped her hands at her side, but they were still numb. Maybe another round of yoga breaths would help. If she didn’t get out of the car now, whateverHollywood A-Lister was behind them would surely tell their driver to ram them.

“Deep breaths, Clairebear,” Charlie said in her best Alice impression. She looked as bossy and unbothered as ever in her form-fitting eggplant cocktail dress. Bill had been called to yet another lawyer emergency, so she was third-wheeling for the night.

Claire straightened the shoulders of her glittering, champagne-colored evening gown. A pair of brand-new Manolos, thanks to her tip from Brad, peeked out from beneath the hem. She glanced out the back window of the limo. A line of identical cars stretched behind them. Brianna and her assistant were in one of them.

“We’re going to be late,” Luke said pointedly, glancing at his watch. “They don’t appreciate it when you hold up a red carpet.”

“Fine, fine,” Claire said. She took a deep breath and scooted to the edge of her seat.

The door opened. Luke stepped out and held out his hand. When Claire didn’t take it, Charlie did. The press that lined the red carpet shifted and zeroed in on the inside of the car, probing the interior for VIPs.

Claire took a deep breath and stepped out behind her big sister. The glittering hem of her gown almost got stuck on her Manolos, but she wiggled just in time to avoid falling on her face. The door shut behind them, and the safety of the limo disappeared into the night.

“Anyone know who they are?” someone called out.

“That’s Luke Islestorm! Luke, over here.”

Oh, hell. Someone actually wanted to speak to Luke. But he was tall. She could hide behind him.

Luke’s eyebrows raised. He clearly wasn’t used to being recognized. His hand found the small of her back, and he guided her gently down the red carpet. Claire glanced over her shoulder,but Charlie was oblivious to the spectacle—her nose was buried in her phone.

Luke had been stopped by a small-time publication with an online edition.

“Mr. Islestorm,” a man with sandy brown hair and a sprinkle of freckles asked, “how do you feel about your recent Emmy nomination?”

“I’m very flattered at the attentionSuburban Hustle’s received. A lot of great candidates have been nominated this year. I hope people feel as strongly about my next documentary on the West Haven Widowmaker. It’ll be released on Streamster this summer.”

Wow. Had a studio executive given him talking points? That was next-level professional.

“And who do you have with you?” The reporter diverted his gaze to Claire.

“Claire Hartley.” Luke’s grip tightened as if he knew she was planning on diving headfirst into the bushes. “She’s the owner of Happily Ever Afters, a renowned proposal planning company. You might have noticed the Hollywood sign was different last week. That was all her.”

“Can we get a picture?” The sandy-haired reporter asked as microphones were suddenly thrust in Claire’s direction.

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