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“His heart? What about my own?” Juan smooches into the phone. “Have fun. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The front door swings open before I can take a good look at Michelle’s house. Despite the fancy zip code, it’s modest, although that could just be to my standards.

Michelle ushers me in and invites me into her backyard.

“I’m so glad you came.” She pulls a bottle of wine from an ice bucket. “I have a lovely cold Meursault here, if you like.”

Meursault is one of my favorite Burgundy wines. Maybe she had a minion scour every interview I’ve ever done for a mention of my preferred foods and beverages.

“Sure. I’ll have a glass of that.”

She pours us each a glass. I remember previously she only drank water, but she seems to be indulging tonight.

I cast my gaze over her garden. The trees in the distance are backlit with the orange glow of the setting sun.

“Lovely place,” I say.

“Thanks.” She has barely sipped from her glass before she puts it down.

“You don’t have to drink wine because I am,” I blurt, probably because this is making me a little nervous—because I don’t really know what this is.

“Don’t worry. I’m not. Just a few sips. I’m not much of a booze aficionado.”

“All the rage in LA these days. You’re very much on trend.” I’m not, I think, as I swallow a generous gulp.

“Am I?” She grins. “Alcohol’s just never been my thing, despite its non-stop glorification on screen.” She leans toward the table and pushes the tray with nibbles in my direction. I spot olives, crackers, and hummus—nothing too fancy.

“I forgot to ask if you’re gluten-free. Austin is, so I made what I would make for him.”

“Gluten and carb-free all the way.” I spear an olive onto a cocktail stick. “Have been ever since my first days onHigh Life.”

“Are you serious?”

“I know things are changing for the better, but surely you know that when we were makingHigh Life, me and the other female leads being as thin as possible was the one and only gold standard. It’s a hard thing to shake.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Michelle says.

“It’s hardly your fault.”

“I’ve been part of Hollywood and the system for a long time, so I am guilty. We’re all guilty of promoting unrealistic standards.” Michelle shakes her head. “The male leads’ weight clearly went up and down all the time, which makes it an unrealistic as well as a double standard.”

“You’re very woke for a TV exec.”

“Most of us are. Now.”

“Because you have to be.”

“I’m the mother of three girls. I’ve witnessed first-hand what unrealistic standards can do to an impressionable teenage brain. If I’m woke, it’s not because I have to be. It’s because I love my kids and I care about people in general.”

“Are your daughters okay?” It wouldn’t be the first time I hurt an unsuspecting stranger’s feelings by blurting something out inadvertently.

“They’re absolutely fine. So is my son, by the way.” It’s hard to gauge whether her smile is genuine or a little forced. “I hear he’s on a hot date tonight.”

“You and Austin must be very close.” I can’t imagine sharing that kind of intimate detail with my own mother.

“We are. He’s much younger than the girls and after the divorce, we spent a lot of time just the two of us.”

“I think Juan really likes Austin.” I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn—Jay just told me.