The clouds hung low and gray, threatening rain as the three of them—Tyler, Cary, and Rory—walked down the street toward the coffee shop.
Cary pointed to the pastel-colored building on the northwest corner of Hastings and Cambie. “I love the Dominion Building. Look at the ornamental detail and arched windows.”
He raised his phone and snapped a picture.
“I suppose.” Her voice came out unsure. “I’ve never noticed it.”
“How’s that possible?” His gaze bounced to the roof. “It used to be the tallest building in the British Empire.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, thinning her lips until they disappeared. “I guess I forget to look up.”
When they reached the coffee shop, only a sliver of sunlight stretched across the patio. The tables outside were empty—Vancouverites didn’tdo cold unless they were in Whistler, wearing overpriced gear and pretending it was fun.
“Let’s grab a table out here,” Tyler suggested. Being seen in public with Cary wasn’t exactly her idea of a quiet Sunday.
“I’ll go in,” he offered, and as he turned toward the door, his lenses darkened over his bright hazel eyes.
She only agreed to let him go inside because she couldn’t leave Rory alone. He’d go anywhere with anyone at any time.
“Thanks.” She handed him a ten-dollar bill. “I’ll have a latte, please, with soy milk.”
“I’ve got it,” Cary said with a laugh, waving off her money like it was Monopoly cash.
She handed it to him again anyway, and he took it begrudgingly, like she’d just insulted his net worth.
Tyler found a table against the building for a little more privacy. Rory plopped himself on his butt under it, facing the door as if waiting for Cary. While she and Rory waited for the man they were both a bit obsessed with, she opened her phone to check her messages.
Ten minutes later, she glanced at her watch. Rory now lay with his head between his paws, staring longingly at the door.
Artigiano was always busy—itwasVancouver’s best coffee shop—but the wait felt . . . suspiciously long.
She peeked inside.
Cary was signing autographs. How could she have thought otherwise?
Busted.
He caught her staring through the window, and she smiled shyly, then gave a small nod and an awkward thumbs-up—because what else do you do when the most famous rock star on Earth catches you watching him?
A few moments later, Cary returned, carrying two large ceramic cups.
Rory popped up on all fours, tail thumping wildly, his entire body wagging.
“Sorry about that.” Cary handed her the latte, then crouched to ruffle Rory’s fur with both hands.
She tried not to be jealous as Cary showered him with affection.“Thanks,” she said, cradling the cup in both hands, lotus-style.
“No worries.”
Tyler frowned as a gaggle of women brazenly claimed the table next to them, all side-eyes and subtle phones.
“You’re good with your fans,” she said. “The Kingers.”
He shrugged, ducking almost bashfully as he lowered into the chair. “It’s my job,” he said. “No fans means no career.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” She scrunched her nose in revulsion. “Being famous, I mean.”
“Bother me?” He shook his head. “Fame just means more people know me.”
