“If it’s okay with your dad, that is.” I add with a smile, wondering who the hell gave Roman the clearance for this kind of thing.
“Let us know what you think,” Roman adds before signing off with a wave.
“Are you serious?” The dad asks, vibrating with excitement.
“Absolutely, here, give this number a call,” Roman scrawls something down on a piece of paper that the enamored hostess hands him. “We can coordinate something and get him on set for a day.”
“You have no idea how much this means. Thank you,” the dad says, tears welling up in his eyes. “Jesse is going to be so excited, thank you.”
“We’re looking forward to meeting him,” Roman says as they shake hands. The dad heads back toward his table when Roman stops him. “The autographs.” Scrawlinghis name on another piece of paper from the hostess, Roman’s autograph is surprisingly clear. He looks at me, handing the pen my way.
Oh shit, right… my signature.This is my first time autographing anything, and butterflies swarm inside me with the realization. Holding the pen in hand, I hover across the paper for a second, debating how I want my autograph to look. I never practiced one, and now I’m mentally kicking myself for it.
“This would be the part where you sign your name, honey,” Roman says quietly so only I can hear. Gritting my teeth, I decide to put my name down in cursive.
“First time actually autographing something,” I smile as I hand the paper to the dad.
“It won’t be the last, I’m sure,” he grins. “Thank you so much.”
“Mr. Everett, your table is ready.”
We’re led through the packed dining space, winding around tables and stepping past servers. This is clearly the place to be tonight. The hostess leads us to a table near the back, and my stomach does a little flip when Roman pulls my chair out for me. It’s just pretend… I remind myself.
The hostess hands us our menus and then takes off.
“Are you sure we can get that kid cleared to visit the set?” I ask as a server drops off two glasses of water.
“Of course,” he answers, like it’s as obvious as the sun coming up again tomorrow.
“How are you so confident?”
“Clover, my family owns the studio. We can call it anepo babyprivilege.” His face sours on the word nepo baby, and it brings back all the feelings from our fight near the studio fountain. I’d been so mad at him. Swallowing, I look down at my menu.
“Well, that was actually really sweet of you,” I muttermostly to the menu, but loud enough for Roman to hear. When I look up, his eyes scan my face briefly before turning back to his menu. He doesn’t respond, which I suppose is just as well.
I’m not sure what to order. What I wouldn’t give to order a pasta dish and not feel like that was committing a sin. I settle for something that seems healthy enough. Besides, I won’t be eating much of it.
The server comes back to take our orders, and with the menus gone I feel oddly vulnerable, like I’ve lost my shield. Like a coward, I resort to looking around the restaurant instead of staring at my date. Only when I turn to my left, I find a striking pair of familiar icy eyes staring at me. My skin prickles, and my blood turns to ice.
“Roman…” I hiss, trying to be discreet.
“What?” he asks, clearly not seeing what I am. Before I get a chance to give any further warning, Deacon Everett towers over our table.
“Son.” His voice is deep, and there’s absolutely no warmth to it. I’m no expert in family relations, but the greeting feels cold and like it’s meant to intimidate.
Roman’s body tenses ever so slightly across the table, and he looks up, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Deacon.”
A petite blonde woman steps up behind the Starlight Studios head and gives Roman a small warm smile. “Hi, Honey.” I’m struck by how much she looks like Jill.
“Mom.” Roman stands and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is Clover.”
Awkwardly, I move to my feet, and stick a hand out. “Hi, Mrs. Everett.”
“Lovely to meet you,” she says before giving me a quick handshake that’s so soft it’s barely there. “What a wonderful surprise to see you two here.”
Deacon gives a humorless laugh that seems to directly contradict what she said. Okay, now I see that being a dick is a hereditary trait for Roman. Poor bastard never had a chance.
