“Oh my gosh,” she said. “I knew it was you! I love your music.”
Caleb froze. I felt the sudden tension in his posture.
“Can I get a picture,” she asked, already angling the camera. “Are you still single? Are you going back on tour? I’ve always wanted to date a country star.”
She glanced at me then, curious rather than rude, but still too much.
Before I could think about it, I stepped closer to Caleb and slipped my arm through his.
“I’m his girlfriend,” I said calmly. “And he would really appreciate a little space.”
The woman blinked. “Oh. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean -”
“It’s okay,” I said kindly. “Thank you for understanding.”
She apologized again, stepped back, snapped a quick photo from a safer distance, and hurried off, already typing furiously.
Caleb stared at me like he had forgotten how words worked.
“I - ” he started, then stopped. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I said. “But it felt like the simplest solution.”
He let out a laugh, breathless and genuine. “It will be all over the internet within ten minutes.”
“I suppose so,” I agreed, still holding onto his arm and trying hard not to think that my motives might not be entirely altruistic. “Would your fans be more respectful of your space if they thought you did have a girlfriend?”
“Some of them. Some are still aggressive,” Caleb mentioned.
“Maybe if you fake date me, at least a few of them won’t be quite so bold,” I suggested.
“Fake date?” Caleb asked, looking at me in surprise.
“Purely strategic for your safety,” I replied, still holding onto his arm as we started walking again. “I can be very convincing.”
“Terrifyingly so,” he said, smiling now.
It was a real smile, and I felt happy to have taken him out of his unhappy self-reflection. “So I guess I’m now your fake girlfriend.”
“If we are fake dating,” he said lightly, “do I get cookies next time?”
“Absolutely not,” I firmly told him. “You failed to prepare.”
He laughed again, louder this time. Caleb pulled his arm from mine but wrapped it around me, pulling me close to his side which made me happier than it ought to.
The crowd thinned as the evening edged toward its later hours. The lights felt warmer. We walked without urgency, sharing the last of the cocoa, talking, and generally not wanting the evening to end.
.
Chapter Sixteen: An Intrusion
Kitty
I should have known something was wrong the moment Lydia said the wordsquickinterview.
She said it from the kitchen doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand, phone in her other hand, with cheeks pink with excitement. I was sitting at the table surrounded by papers.Vendor forms, the layout for the market, and the tentative lineup for the upcoming talent show. I had three tabs open on my laptop and a mug of tea I had reheated twice because I had forgotten to drink it.
“It’s just a little social media thing,” Lydia said. “Ten minutes. Maybe less. I told them I was busy.”
