“Uh… yes. Yes, she is,” John said, carefully pulling his fingers free from Otis’s too-tight grip.
“Andhot,” Otis added.
“Okay, we better get going,” I said loudly, steering Otis in the opposite direction.
“See you inside,” John said with a nod to Otis, then turned away to sign someone’s book.
I let out a breath, enough air to fill a hot-air balloon.
Otis leaned in, whispering, “Is it just me, or did it getreallywarm in here?”
“Shut up,” I replied, suddenly breathless. “I need a drink.”
“It’s 2 p.m.”
“Perfect.”
Camera flashes filled the room. Reporter after reporter crowded in. The place was severely under-chaired.
I was under no illusion—this media circus was here forJohn. My tension had eased slightly once May and Jeremy arrived and took their seats beside me, where little note cards marked our names.
Otis kept throwing me double thumbs-ups every two minutes, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was texting me bad dad jokes.
Charlene sat one chair away. “How are we all doing? So good to see you.” She patted my shoulder and waved at May, who was—unsurprisingly—knitting under the table.
“We’re just waiting on John,” Charlene said, craning her neck to look through the crowd. Pointless—John would tower over everyone anyway.
My phone buzzed. It was Otis.
OMG, is that HIM next to you?
I glanced at Jeremy, chatting with May. He was wearing a hand-knitted scarf. The two of them seemed even closer than before. Maybe I’d misjudged him.
Jeremy?
You mean Jeremy, my future husband? I will end our friendship if you don’t introduce us ASAP.
You won’t.
I won’t. But I’ll be mad.
Didn’t think he was your type.
And what exactly is my type, love?
Pocket full of party drugs. Body glitter. Owns at least one harness.
Rude. But also true.
My stomach twisted at the idea of Jeremy and Otis. Jeremy was sweet, kind, a little goofy. He wore tweed like he was pushing fifty, but his reddish-blond hair and slightly pink cheeks gave him the vibe of a shy poet. A literary professor in the making. Otis would eat him for breakfast. And the thought of Otis getting involved with acompetitor? That bugged me.
Then I noticed something else.
Cosplay.
Not a lot—but enough to make me do a double take. In between the press and the fangirls stood people who looked like…myCaptain Caruso. The way I’d described her in the first chapter Haller & Mark had posted online just a week ago. Her long black braid. The gold-and-leather armor. The scar.
She wasexactlyhow I imagined her.
