Found-family content. Check.
“Jellybean.”
The voice rolls through the noise, warm and unmistakable. I turn.
Uncle Julian stands at the rail in a charcoal coat and scarf, every inch the owner.
I drift closer, lowering my camera. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you. And yet.”
“I work here.”
“Funny.” His mouth twitches. “Your mother seems to think you’re wasting your Harvard degree.”
“My mother thinks a lot of things.”
He studies my face. “She called me. She’s worried.”
“I bet she is.”
“Bennett Vance?”
“Not happening.”
“Then what is happening? You have?—”
“Ten days. I know.” I exhale. “I’m working on it.”
His brow lifts. “Working on it how? You could just say yes, wear the ring for a few weeks, then quietly call it off in January.”
“Uncle Julian, no. An engagement like that would be all over page six before I even finished saying yes. And the breakup? Blood in the water. Every photo agency in Manhattan would dig up old shots of me, and suddenly the whole city knows exactly who I am—including everyone here at work. That’s not happening.”
He nods slowly, conceding. “Then what?”
I hesitate. “Maybe I’ll hire an actor. Someone with a clean background. They play the part, collect the check, everyone’s satisfied.” I pause. “Except my mother, of course; she wants boring and suitable.”
His expression hardens. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Too risky. One NDA leak, one text out of context, and you’re the girl who faked a relationship for money.”
I swallow. Everyone would know who I am then too. He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“I’ll figure something out,” I say finally.
“Jellybean—”
“Uncle Julian, I adore you. Trust me. And”—I tip my chin toward the stands—”disappear before someone decides the owner plays favorites.”
He sighs, amused despite himself. “Bossy.”
“It runs in the family.” I wink. Out of arguments, he tips an invisible hat and melts back into the crowd.
I exhale and refocus on my shot list. Wesley’s still with the kid, who’s now attempting an unsteady glide on his own. He slides backward, arms open, ready if the kid tips.
My chest does an inconvenient flip. Damn it.
