“She’s something else,” Vance said quietly.
“She surprises me every day.”
“I have no idea what I’m going to find tomorrow, and I’m scared. But it’s what I’ve wanted and prayed for—for years now. I cannot blow it.”
“You won’t.”
I kissed him. Soft and brief, but enough to stop the spiral.
“Thank you for opening the door,” Vance said.
“Always. For you.” I hesitated. My heart thudded. He already had so much to carry, but I couldn’t keep it from him anymore. “There’s something I should tell you,” I said quietly.
He looked up, instantly alert. “What is it?”
I took a breath. “After you left this afternoon, my friends came over. They showed me some gossip posts—photos of us taken during filming. And then there was this weird fan page. @BeauAndLilaForever. Hundreds of posts, screenshots, personal details. My coffee order, my car, Mia’s dance studio.”
Vance’s expression darkened. “That’s—are you kidding me?”
“I wish I were. It’s creepy, Vance. Some of the photos were taken from across the street. One was even of your car in my driveway.”
He swore under his breath. “That’s not a fan page. That’s stalking.”
“I know.” My throat tightened. “I didn’t want to tell you tonight, not with everything else going on. But I think someone from the production team might be behind it. Someone’s feeding the blogs information.”
“Kenzie,” he said immediately.
“That’s what I think too.”
“We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” he said, jaw set. “After I bring Margot home. But you need to keep your doors locked and the lights on. Don’t be alone if you can help it.”
I hesitated, my heart thudding. “Can you stay tonight?”
He blinked, surprised. “Stay?”
“Not like that,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks warm. “Just—don’t go back to that empty apartment. Sleep on the couch. I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone the night before you get your daughter back. And I don’t want to be here alone with Mia either.”
His gaze softened. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I said.
He exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Then I’ll stay.”
I smiled, brushing his cheek with my thumb. “Good.”
He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. “I’m sorry for all of this.”
“We’ll get through it,” I said.
“I don’t have my toothbrush,” he murmured.
“I have a spare,” I said, managing a laugh. “That’s the least of our problems.”
He exhaled again, softer this time. “Okay.”
We stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other on my couch. Eventually, I got up to get him pillows and a blanket from the linen closet and the promised toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked. “Water? Something to eat?”
