Page 1 of One Weekend in Los Angeles

PROLOGUE

Andrea

“Babe, you have to do this. Please,” my husband, Jeff, beseeched, sitting beside me on our hand-me-down sofa. We were in the one-bedroom apartment we’d rented last year when we’d moved to Los Angeles so he could pursue his music and acting dreams.

I took a deep breath before trying to explain my concerns. “I’m anxious about putting our lives out there for the world to see. Think about what the publicity could do to our relationship.”

We’d been together since high school, and I was secure in our commitment, but appearing on a reality show seemed like going under a microscope where the world could dissect every little thing. I had my doubts as to how healthy it would be for us.

He stood up and paced, running a hand through his blond hair before coming over and dropping to his knees in front of me. “I promise this won’t change things for us. We’re as solid as they come, babe. Consider what this could do for my band or for my shot at future acting gigs. City of Angels is the big break. I can feel it deep in my bones.”

He took my hands between his, and I was hard-pressed to say no. His band had been his dream since high school, and acting had been his passion. We’d always been each other’s biggest supporters. “I worry.”

He kissed my hands. “I understand, but I swear to you, I will always be the man you married. And if it becomes too much, I will choose you over the show and leave the minute you say so. Scratch that—the second you say so.”

How could I say no to his earnest face? The thing about Jeff I’d always admired was his honesty. If he said he’d walk away, then I trusted he would walk. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

His handsome face broke into a boyish smile, the same one I’d fallen for eight years ago in our junior year of high school when he’d asked me to be his lab partner in chemistry. I’d trusted in him when he wanted to leave our small town and go away to college and when he wanted to move to LA. This would be no different. I’d trust him. I’d trust in our relationship. And I’d trust we’d be just fine.

Chapter One

ANDREA

“What are you going to do?” My PR rep, Ollie, asked me this gently while sitting across from me on the ridiculously expensive sofa which wasn’t at all comfortable but Jeff had wanted because he’d seen it in a music video. Ollie had been good enough to come over this morning, bearing fruit and bagels.

“We’ll do what all the other reality couples do. Get divorced.” My tone was flat and void of emotion despite the deep wound of betrayal lodged in my chest.

He put his hand over mine, sympathy reflected in his weathered face. “You should consider making a public statement.”

Right. Because it wasn’t enough to have my husband cheat on me, but the news of his infidelity had been splashed all over the Internet and picked up by the tabloids. My world had been rocked after finding out he’d cheated with our twenty-two-year-old co-star in an alley after his last concert.

“Can I disappear and never say a word?” I loved how supportive most people had been since the video had gone viral, but there were others online who used any excuse to be nasty. They were the crowd dissecting my relationship like armchair therapists.

“You could disappear, but it would mean it’s only his narrative out there for the world, only his version of reality.”

Fucking reality. For two years my reality had been cameras documenting our lives while Jeff’s mediocre band played small venues around the country and pretended to be rock stars. He’d lapped up every second of newfound fame, accepted product endorsements by the dozen, and clamored for every acting crumb passed his way.

It seemed as though we’d done more public appearances with cameras in our faces than spent actual time together over the last twenty-four months. And after he’d invested in a new bar two months ago, he’d put in many late nights there. The perfect cover for a cheater.

City of Angels had taken off on the Drago network after the first season. We’d gotten to the point where Jeff and I had bought a million-dollar home, drove the types of cars that required high-grade gasoline, and I’d been told by the producers to trade in my Target wardrobe for name brands. In two seasons we’d become grade C+ reality star celebrities.

He’d promised he wouldn’t change from the midwestern boy next door who’d captured my heart at sixteen, but over the last two years, we both had. And it hadn’t been for the better.

I’d come to resent the cameras in my face and always having to be on, while he’d been so desperate for the attention he’d often called the paparazzi to tell them where we’d be. The most intrusive part had been the photogs stalking my stomach over the past six months, apparently hoping I’d announce a pregnancy. This was especially heartbreaking since I would’ve given anything for it to be true.

At the beginning of this last filming season, I’d been ready to walk away from City of Angels. To go back to concentrating on our marriage and starting a family. But Jeff hadn’t kept his promise about choosing me over the show. Then again, it wasn’t the only promise he’d broken.

“Someday it won’t hurt.” It was my new affirmation.

“You’re right. Someday it won’t hurt. If you ask me, it’s an early midlife crisis. He’s eager for attention, and Paula gave him the ego boost he was seeking, meanwhile she’s searching for an identity and will happily take on the one he provides her even if it costs her in the long run.”

Jeff’s willingness to do absolutely anything for attention wasn’t news. As if his cheating wasn’t bad enough, he’d done so with someone I’d befriended and defended from the others on the show. I’d considered Paula young, naïve, and sometimes irresponsible, but I’d always seen the good in her. Hell, she’d even spent last Easter with us.

My stomach heaved at the memory. Had they been sleeping together three months ago? I had no timeline. No answers. Partially my own doing. Too blinded by my initial shock and despair, I hadn’t asked any of those questions when I’d confronted my husband. He’d admitted to the affair, said he might be in love with her, and told me he’d needed time to figure his head out, whatever that meant. I hadn’t seen him since.

We’d have to talk again eventually. We shared a home. Cars. A dog. As if on cue, Callie, our shepherd mix, laid her head on my lap. At least dogs were loyal.

“Any chance you’re considering forgiveness?” Ollie didn’t say this with judgment but only genuine concern.