“Well, since she added the no-kill shelters as a cause she supports, her numbers have skyrocketed. And it’s no wonder why. People care more about successful people who pay it forward. Partnering with a cause will grow your influence, and it will give you a giant leg up in your audition submission.”
I huffed a sigh. “I have a hard time believing that any self-respecting animal would choose to be in the same room as Felicity. She’s basically the platinum blond version of Cruella de Vil.”
“While that may be true,” Ethan said, all managerial-like, “the numbers speak for themselves. She’s grown nearly eighteen percent across all her platforms in the last four months.”
“Eighteen percent?” I slumped back in my chair. “Wow.”
“Yep. And,” he said, tapping my knee, “I have no doubt you can do even better. You have more personality and charisma in your left earlobe than Felicity Fakes It.”
“Felicity Fashion Fix,” I corrected on a chuckle, my mood slowly on the rise again.
He curled a long piece of my hair around his finger and tugged gently. “I don’t really care what her brand name is because she’s not my client anymore, you are.” He edged closer to me, taking my hands in his and rubbing his thumb over the inside of my wrists. “You’ve proven you know how to hook your viewers’ loyalty, Molly. Now you need to hook them in the heart. If you can do that, then I can get you a makeover show in front of millions that will make everything you’ve done to build your brand to this point seem trivial in comparison.”
I tried the phrase on for size—hook them in the heart—imagining how my twin brother would respond to such a statement.
“Oh!” I sat up straight and flattened my feet to the floor. “I’ve got it.”
“What? A nonprofit we can contact?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly, but I do know the person who can lead me to one. Miles. My brother has a connection to every nonprofit organization within a hundred-mile radius of here.” And beyond.
“Ah, yes. The preacher,” Ethan said, finally reaching for his glass of wine and reclining back on the sofa. “Weren’t the two of you supposed to do an interview together for your channels? I thought I suggested that a few months back—show your viewers the whole twin bonding thing you two have going. Did Val forget to put that on the schedule?”
I tried to ignore the raw way his tone rubbed against me whenever he spoke of my brother. Though he and Miles had only interacted twice, it was abundantly clear that neither of them was going to take up calling each other bro any time soon. Truth was, I often felt like a goalie between them, blocking any potential insult and negative jab.
I stood up, slipped between him and the chair, and made my way back to the kitchen. “He’s not interested in doing an interview for Makeup Matters, and I’m totally okay with that. It’s not his thing.”
Ethan laughed. “Why not? Are preachers banned from social media? Is that one of the twelve commandments?”
“Ten.”
“Ten what?”
“There are only ten commandments, not twelve.”
He pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen, either not hearing me or not caring to respond. “You should really change his mind on that. It’s a missed opportunity.”
It probably was, and yet I knew my brother. The same way I knew my parents. Though at least Miles understood some of the benefits to social media and what my career as an influencer actually entailed. My parents, however, shared one flip phone between the two of them with no fancy apps or internet service—all in the name of frugality and stewardship.
As I pulled our plates down from the cupboard, I said nothing more on the topic of my family to Ethan. It was one of the clear boundary lines I’d drawn when we started dating. He hadn’t known me as a child or as a lonely teenager searching for her place in a household she’d never quite measured up to. And I liked it that way. The two of us had come from two totally different lifestyles, two totally different histories, two totally different worlds, and perhaps that was what I enjoyed most about being with him. Our pasts didn’t have to matter, because all we focused on was the future dreams we chased together. And in that aspect, we were very much the same. Ethan and I were a goal-making, goal-crushing machine. And signing on with his agency had been one of the best decisions I’d ever made.
He believed in me. And perhaps that was the only encouragement I needed to push toward my next goal.
“Hey.” He came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders while I reached for a spatula. “What do you think about skipping the chicken tonight and going out to eat instead? I’m craving that little Italian place downtown, the one with the breaded artichokes and fresh caprese salad.” He brushed my hair off my back and planted a kiss to my neck. “We can continue this conversation over a nice plate of veal parmesan. And, bonus, there’ll be no dishes needing to be washed.”
I glanced down at the chicken I’d been marinating all day, based on a recipe I’d chosen a week ago when he told me he’d be flying into town tonight. “I do love that place, but I’ve been looking forward to trying this chicken out all week, and—”
He spun me around and touched my chin. “Babe, once this deal goes through, the only meals you’ll ever want to try will be cooked by professional chefs. Come on, let me treat you tonight. I’m proud of you.” He went to the door and shrugged on his jacket before removing my blush cardigan from the rustic wall hook and holding it open. “After all, it’s not every day I get to celebrate the accomplishments of my best client, who also happens to
