“I just want to get this straight: instead of focusing on nailing the role of a lifetime, you’re living out a Hallmark movie subplot in the heart of New Orleans?”
“It’s not a Hallmark movie,” I muttered, though even I had to admit it sounded like one.
“Right, because in a Hallmark movie, you’d be a small-town baker trying to save the family business, not a movie star hiding from the paparazzi. My bad.”
“Bob, I don’t need this right now,” I replied.
“Fine, fine,” Bob relented. “But you’d better get ahead of this, Luke. The world already knows you’re dating someone outside the Hollywood bubble, and the headlines aren’t slowing down. You, my friend, are a walking tabloid headline. With a plot twist.”
I sighed, glancing at my phone as notifications lit up the screen like a fireworks show. “I know, Bob. Trust me, I know.”
“Good. Because if you’re going to do this, you’d better be sure she’s worth it.”
I paused, thinking of Anna. “She is.”
Bob groaned. “Let’s get Mabel on the line. That publicist of yours has already texted me eighteen times, and one of them was just a picture of a fire emoji.”
Seconds later, Mabel’s shrill voice cut through the call. “Luke Fisher. Tell me this is all some elaborate prank, and I’m not currently spinning a strategy foryouand a Mardi Gras jester.”
“Mabel—”
“No, no, let me paint the picture for you. Hollywood’s golden god,Luke Fisher,spotted at a gala in New Orleans with someonenotwearing couture, not from a famous family, and not part of a PR-approved power couple. How am I supposed to spin this? You’ve officially broken the algorithm.”
“Mabel.” I tried to suppress a laugh. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal?” she repeated, her voice climbing an octave. “Luke, you’re dating someone who was dressed as a jester. Do you know what the internet can do with that? Meme factories are already running at full capacity.We are trending on platforms I didn’t even know existed.”
I shook my head. “Okay, so how do we handle this?”
“How do we handle this?” Mabel scoffed. “Step one: We lean into the romance angle. Mysterious New Orleans date? The public eats that up. Step two: We hope to high heavens that the jester costume doesn’t overshadow your charm. Step three—Bob, are you listening?—We need to get ahead of this before some blogger does.”
Bob chimed in with a chuckle. “Mabel, you’re scaring the poor guy.”
“Oh, please,” she shot back. “Luke, I don’t scare you, do I?”
“Not at all.” I smiled faintly. “I find this level of panic oddly endearing.”
“Good. Because if you’re serious about her, we’re going to need a whole new playbook. And if you’re not serious...” She trailed off ominously, leaving the threat unspoken.
“Oh, he’s serious," Bob said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “He loves her.”
There was a beat of silence, then Mabel’s tone completely shifted. “Wait. What? Luke Fisher is inlove? That’s... that's actually really sweet.”
“Can we not make this a thing?” I said.
“No, no, this is absolutely a thing,” Mabel said. “Bob, are you tearing up right now? Because I’m tearing up.”
“Little bit,” Bob admitted.
“Our boy’s in love,” Mabel said, and I could practically hear her pressing her hand to her heart. “I need a moment. This is like watching your kid graduate.”
“Are you two done?”
“Never,” Bob said. “I’m putting this in the group chat.”
“Don’t you dare?—"
“Too late. Sent.”
