Flash. Flash. Flash.
“Ellie, over here!”
“Ellie! Are you dating Sawyer James?”
“Ellie, how’s the arm? Are you ready for the show coming up?”
I kept my head down, sunglasses on, my smile practiced and polite. My security team moved in instinctively, a quiet, steady shield.
“Let’s keep moving,” one of my security guards said.
The SUV door opened, and I slid in.
“Coffee shop’s prepped. Swept this morning. Owner’s good with it. Private booth in the back. No press allowed inside.”
I nodded. “Perfect. Thank you.”
It was ridiculous, really, but this was my life now. Fame came with security and a media playbook. If I wanted a moment to breathe? That came with a team of two and a blacked-out SUV.
For some reason, I didn’t mind it all today. Something stupid and a little hopeful stirred in me that had nothing to do with the cameras.
We pulled up behind the coffee shop, a tucked-away spot nestled between a row of designer boutiques—the kind of place that sold overpriced lavender lattes and had leather armchairs no one actually sat in.
It was supposed to be a private entrance, but somehow, a few paparazzi had still found it. The second I stepped out, the flashing started again.
“Ellie! Who are you meeting? Is it Harold?”
“Ellie, how are you healing after the injury?”
“Are the rumors true?”
I darted inside and let out a breath. When I glanced up, I immediately spotted him leaning against the counter, wearing a flannel over a faded tee and a backwards hat. Sawyer glanced up and grinned like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.
And just like that, the outside world faded away.
He pushed off the counter, holding five cups.
“Didn’t know what you wanted, so I got all their sweetest stuff,” he said, lifting the drink carrier like a human coffee menu. “All with enough sugar to bring back the dead. If you don’t like them, I can get you something else.”
I let out a laugh that surprised even me—a real one. Rachel always said the right guy would make me laugh when I leastexpected it. I always figured she meant after some time into a healthy relationship, not ten seconds into a fake one, but this guy was always surprising me, apparently.
A staff member appeared and led us past a curtain near the back to a private booth. It was small and circular, with plush cushions and enough privacy so no one could easily eavesdrop or snap a photo for this initial conversation.
Sawyer slid in first, and I sat across from him.
“Pick your poison.” He slid the cups toward me.
When our fingers brushed for half a second, my stomach decided to perform a little pirouette.
“This one has whipped cream and what I'm pretty sure is edible glitter," he said, squinting at it. “I didn’t even know coffee could sparkle.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You got me glitter coffee?”
“I mean, I figured you deserved options…and glitter, obviously.”
I picked it up and took a sip. It was sweet, indulgent, and ridiculous. “Okay...why is this actually really good?”
He grinned and just stared at me for a moment before speaking.
