“Well, don’t. I can handle it.”
“How? After only a day, you’ve,we’ve, got an entire fandom dedicated to us as a couple. They’re writing fan fiction about our relationship. If we don’t at least go out a few times, you’re going to look…”
“Pathetic?”
“Why do you keep finishing my sentences?” I give her an exasperated look. “And I’m going to look like an ass.”
“Do you care if you look like an ass?”
“No. I’m used to it. I was fandom enemy number one when I left Future Shock and broke up the band.”
“Well, I don’t care either.”
“I’m just trying to fix things.”
“There are some things you can’t fix, Ryder. And I’m just trying to live my life and move on from you. I can’t move on if we’re fake-dating. So the answer is no. You can tell your publicist to stick her nose out of my business. I will be fine either way. The public will just have to get over the loss of their ‘ship.’ And I’ll just have to be the pet sitter who had a crush on her famous friend and boss. Because I’m not lying to protect my reputation that I don’t care about. As for humiliation, that damage has already been done. And, news flash, it’s not because of what a bunch of strangers on the internet think.”
She looks me dead in the eye. “You had your chance to date me. For ten years. You didn’t. So you don’t get the chance to fake it now.”
I should feel relieved. Fake-dating her would be a level of complication I don’t need.
But somehow, all I can do is stare at her, and I never want to stop. Her blond hair is caught up, with a mass of cascading curls framing her face. Her chin is stubborn. Her eyes sparkle with heat and defiance.
Damn it all. She’s never been more enticing.
CHAPTER 21
Daisy
(TEN YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
I pretend not to care that Ryder has a date with a stunning model. She’s someone I could never compete with. I even made up a fake guy, saying that he’s been calling me, to keep myself from looking like the lovestruck girl I am. We’re still friends. We still hang out. But inside, my heart is shattered.
(NOW)
Two days later, and things are almost back to normal.
Actually, nothing is normal. But I’m accepting the fact that Ryder will never be interested in me and that everything is out in the open.
It’s almost a relief, really.
There’s symmetry in this. I know how he feels from the phone call I overheard. And he knows how I feel from the video he saw.
At least I’ve been able to avoid having any serious discussions with Ryder. I know he still wants to talk about the conversation I overheard and his fake-dating idea, but I’ve avoided it so far.
Because the paparazzi have descended on the town, and they’re an excellent distraction. They’re camped out by the gates at the bottom of the hill. Ryder is pissed. But I don’t mind them too much.
I try to make their presence here fun because there’s no point in being upset about something you can’t change. So I pretend they’re hanging around to get daily photos of my outfits. I throw my energy into dressing Archie and me in matching clothes. The sewing machine is getting good use. And I’m back to full mobility with my ankle healed, even for exercise.
For the past three days, I’ve strutted past the cameras with a jaunty wave. Yesterday, I even bought them cupcakes from my favorite bakery in town. They’re decorated with an illustration of a camera in fondant. They were a hit.
It helps that I’ve kept my promise not to check the tabloids or online buzz about myself, which is doing wonders for my mental health.
“Daisy.” Ryder looks exasperated.
“Yes?” I say, poised with an old leather leash in my hand that I found at the town’s only vintage and antique store. It matches the new collar I got Archie.
