“It’s my own fault you can’t go. I didn’t want to jinx it by mentioning the possibility of fashion week too early. And I’d never forgive myself if Mom cancelled her Michigan trip because of me. She’s been preparing for her photography exhibit for months. If anything, it killsmeto miss her show.”
“Gracie and I will be there, and we’ll take pictures for you,” he offers.
Daniel’s favorite person—his wife, Grace, has always been an honorary Thompson, but he made it official last year. With her growing up next door to us, it wasn’t a matter ofifthey would fall in love—it waswhen.
“Howisour most talented family member doing? Mom said that G’s clinic is as busy as ever.”
His whole body seems to smile. “Gracie’s perfect. Her animal clinic was just featured in a local Columbus magazine, and her waiting list has tripled.” Daniel’s talking so animatedly about her that he starts to cough. He takes a sip of water before continuing to gush. “Actually, one of her patients was just featured in a dog food ad, so she’s basically aVeterinarian to the Stars. She’s working longer hours, though, trying to fit everyone in. You know how she is… hates turning anyone away.”
I love the way Daniel and Grace support each other’s goals. The possibility that I end up in a relationship like theirs feels unlikely, though, given my history.
It’s not like my previous boyfriends insulted my designs… They just didn’t care. I’d eagerly show them a sketch I was working on, explaining my thought process behind the choice of fabric and pointing out the details, before realizing their eyes had glazed over. It was always a brief glance at my bristol board with an offhand “Looks good, babe.”
Eventually, I stopped showing them at all. Turns out, apathy is worse than disdain.
“Oh em gee! It’s DT! Iloveyou!” I’m wrenched out of my thought spiral by a pretty, twenty-something blonde fangirl squealing.
This is why going to a restaurant of this caliber was a bad idea. I knew something like this would happen. Shrinking down in my seat, I make myself smaller in an attempt to evade her attention.
“Are you his wife?” Fangirl boldly asks. She tucks her sleek hair behind her ear. “I thought he was with that other girl… the redhead.”
Daniel scowls at the implication that he’d ever cheat on Grace. Actually, he looks kind of sick to his stomach… Is he going to throw up from just thethoughtof infidelity? He swallows hard, clenching his jaw.
“Thanks for your support,” he replies curtly, “but I’m here with arelative, so I’d appreciate some privacy right now.”
“Totally. Let me just grab one picture for socials or else no one will believe I met you!” The girl leans in and snaps a photo without his permission.
“Hey! You can’t do?—”
“It’s fine, Tessie. Just drop it,” Daniel responds in a low, resigned voice. Having got what she wanted, the girl sauntersback to her table, no doubt posting the picture to all ten of her followers.
Fifteen minutes later, I realize my follower count estimation was completely off, as a handful of fans with phones and a couple of paparazzi gather outside the restaurant.
Daniel takes a deep breath and leans over to grab his wallet from his back pocket. I squint from the camera flashes bouncing off the window glass. Leaving double the amount of the bill’s total in cash, Daniel grabs my hand and starts leading me through the restaurant. There’s only one way out, so we’re going to have to weather the group by the door.
Taking a protective step in front of me and grabbing my wrist, he does his best to shield me as we brace ourselves for the cluster. As soon as the door opens, the questions from the two paparazzi begin.
“DT! You steppin’ out on your missus?”
“What’s her name?”
“What happened with the wife?”
“What’s your social handle, sweetheart?”
“Give us a smile!”
Nearly everyone leans in at the same time to take a selfie with Daniel, closing me in. I duck my head, eyes cast at the wet ground. Without looking where I’m going, I collide into a man, and Daniel loses his grip on me. Disoriented and wobbly on my heels, I tumble to the ground. My dress rides up and exposes my upper thighs, and I frantically try to pull the hem down. Adjusting the dress proves impossible, as I’m sitting on the back of the soaked fabric with no room to move.
I hear Daniel shouting, “Which one of you knocked her over? I’ll sue your ass for assault. Who was it?”
The “oomph” sounds coming from the fans tell me that he’s shoving his way back through the group.
I attempt to stand, but the black jeans and scuffed sneakers surrounding me leave no space to do so. Claustrophobia starts to trickle in, and my head feels fuzzy. Just as I start to panic, two strong arms yank me straight up and plop me on my feet. Frightened, I lift my gaze to the stranger and find a pair of familiar icy blue eyes fixed on mine.
“Tessa?” Giovanni’s thick eyebrows are furrowed as he scans my body, searching for physical injuries. Noticing my askew hem, he immediately pulls down my dress to cover my exposed thighs. His fingers graze my skin, and a current of internal warmth juxtaposes the chill of the wet fabric. I see a flicker of… Is thatworryin his eyes? No, it must be the flash of the camera lights.
I’d ask why he’s here, but remember that this fancy restaurant is down the street from his shop.
