The cameras eat it up.
The first fifteen minutes pass exactly as planned. Charity talking points. Light anecdotes. Safe laughter. We both know when to glance toward the cameras, when to ignore them. It’s almost comforting, how smoothly it goes.
At one point, a server pauses a moment too long, clearly debating whether to ask for a photo. Colby meets his eyes and gives a small, polite nod that says not now. The server flushes and retreats.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
I notice the way he subtly shifts after, angles his shoulders, drops his gaze, redirecting the attention back to the table like it never belonged to him in the first place.
He shrugs. “Occupational hazard.”
“Still,” I say. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.”
The cameras finally peel away after the appetizers, PR giving a subtle signal from across the room. The air shifts immediately, like a held breath released.
I exhale without realizing I’d been holding it.
Chapter ten
Colby
“Glad they’re done.”
It’s the first thing out of my mouth once the cameras finally drift back, like someone slowly turning down a dimmer switch.
The noise in the room doesn’t disappear, exactly. It just… settles. Plates clink. Someone laughs a few tables over. The low vibration of conversation resumes its normal volume, no longer calibrated for microphones.
Sloane exhales.
It’s subtle, but I catch it. The way her shoulders drop a fraction. The way her fingers loosen around her glass.
“Yeah,” she says. “Much better.”
I nod, because I get that. There’s a specific kind of pressure that comes with knowing every expression is being recorded,clipped, and replayed. You learn to live inside it in my line of work, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy it.
Now that it’s gone, something else rushes in.
Space.
Only now do my thoughts catch up to everything I’ve been deliberately shelving since she arrived.
The pink sweater. Not armor. Soft, intentional. The way she stepped out of the car like she’d rehearsed the moment and then decided to improvise anyway. The way she met my eyes like she was braced for impact and curious about it at the same time.
I didn’t let myself dwell on any of it then. Cameras don’t leave room for dwelling.
There’s room for it now.
A server refills our water without fanfare, and the nearby tables relax, too. No more careful glances. No more pretending not to look. The restaurant breathes again.
I glance toward Sloane. She’s scanning the room, too, but not for attention. For calibration. Habit, probably.
That’s when I notice the couple two tables over.
The guy is leaning back in his chair, staring at his phone like it personally offended him. The woman across from him is talking fast and animated, one hand waving slightly as she tries to pull his attention back into the conversation.
He doesn’t look up.
