“I am,” I muttered.
Ellery snorted softly beside me, trying to bite back a grin. That sound—quiet, involuntary—hit harder than I wanted it to.
I looked down at her, ready to make some smart remark, but she was already glancing up at me.
And for half a heartbeat, everything around us—the chatter, the flash, the chaos—just faded.
Her eyes met mine, bright and steady, and suddenly it wasn’t about the photo or the gala or PR damage control. It wasn’t even about what either of us was supposed to represent.
It was just… her.
And me.
Too close. Too aware.
The flash went off before I could look away.
The photographer lowered his camera, grinning like he’d just caught lightning in a bottle. “Perfect.”
Ellery blinked, stepping back quickly, smoothing her shirt like she needed something to do with her hands. I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck, pretending to study the nearest banner.
We might as well have had guilty stamped on our foreheads.
“Thanks, you two,” the photographer said, checking the screen. “That one’s going front and center.”
“Great,” I said flatly. “Can’t wait.”
Ellery shot me a look—half warning, half amusement. “Try not to sound too enthusiastic.”
“I’ll work on it,” I muttered.
But as she walked off to check something on her clipboard, I found myself glancing toward the photographer’s screen.
The picture was still up—me and Ellery standing side by side, her mouth curved in that half-smile, my head tilted just slightly toward her.
Not posed. Not polished.
Just… real.
And damn if that didn’t feel more dangerous than any headline they could write.
Chapter 9
Ellery
The smell of garlic and basil filled my apartment, warm and a little too hopeful. The pasta had just finished steaming when my phone buzzed against the counter.
Kyle’s name lit the screen.
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and answered, already guessing what was coming. “Hey.”
“Hey, babe.” His voice had that easy charm, the one that always softened bad news before it hit. “Don’t hate me. The scout dinner got moved up. National team reps are in town—I have to go.”
I closed my eyes, my hand resting on the back of a chair. The candles flickered against the windowpane, their soft light catching the empty plate across from mine.
“Of course you do,” I said quietly.
He hesitated—just long enough to make me think he might offer something more, some reason to stay. But instead, “You’re amazing. Rain check?”
