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An image of Stevie flashes through my mind. I couldn’t protect her from the scrutiny of the press last spring, and I vividly remember the mental toll it took on her. She was a normal girl and I kept her out of the limelight the best I could, but once word got out that Evan Zanders had a girlfriend, her life was upended for weeks.
And I’m intentionally about to do that to her closest friend.
Although, I doubt speculation over my dating life would be as big of a deal as it was for Zanders. I’m not a playboy. I’m not flashy. I’ve never flaunted my single life the way he used to, but it’s still too risky.
“Harold, turn around,” I project to my driver. “Back home, please.”
Indy’s head snaps to me. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t let you go out there with me.” Fidgeting, I run my palms down my thighs as I wait for Harold to pull out of the lineup and get us back home.
Indy’s hand settles on mine in an easy move, unthinking. As if we’ve touched and comforted one another hundreds of times in the past. “What’s wrong?”
I stare at where we’re connected, her hand small in comparison to mine. And even though she’s big and bold in spirit, she’s soft. She has feelings. A lot of them.
“You’re a normal person, Blue.”
Her lip quirks. “Very observant tonight, Shay.”
“Being normal is special. I won’t be the reason you lose your privacy. Especially over something as trivial as a fake date.”
My driver turns the wheel to get back on the main road.
“Don’t you dare drive.” Indy’s words are harsh and commanding, causing Harold’s nervous stare to meet mine in the rearview mirror.
He’s been my driver for four years and I’ve never seen him so quickly shift loyalties than in this moment as the blonde at my side shoots him commands.
She turns to me, that sinful slit inching its way over and taunting those golden legs. “I get that you want to be left alone, and you’re worried about me.” She pats my chest. “Cute, by the way, but I like people. I’m excited about this. You’re not forcing me. I want to go.”
“Indy—”
“What are you worried about? Sure, there might be a few headlines and my name might get released, but who cares? It’ll last a day, maybe two. When they deep dive into my life they’ll find out I go to trivia, I cross-stitch in my free time, and I read dirty books. No one cares about me. I’m not you, Ryan. It’s you they worship. So, please, let me go be a social butterfly because I’m starved for attention.”
Her eager brown eyes lighten with humor.
“You cross-stitch?”
“Proudly.”
“You grandma.” She smiles at that, matching the now relaxed grin on my lips. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t shave and moisturize every inch of my body to go back home. Yes, I’m sure.”
Making eye contact once again, I offer a small nod of approval to Harold.
Once we pull up, my door on the street side is opened. I step out, rebuttoning my suit as flashes illuminate the dark sky. My name is yelled, cameras are blinding, but I stay on task. Rounding the car to Indy’s side, I stop the doorman when his hand finds the handle. “I’ve got it.”
He gives a polite nod and steps back with his hands folded behind him.
I open Indy’s door by only a fraction, giving myself a moment to check on her and make sure she’s truly okay with this before subjecting her to the entire world. She’s wearing an eager smile on those heart-shaped lips and her brown eyes are shining with excitement.
I dread these nights when I find them on my calendar, and she couldn’t be more stoked.
The photographers and paparazzi behind me are relentlessly trying to get a shot, but I’m not worried about impressing or convincing them. We aren’t doing this for them. I just need to make sure we’re on our A-game by the time we inevitably run into Ron Morgan.
Indy puts her hand in mine, one white heel finding the ground as she glides out of the car with so much grace and polish, those previous notions and lack of concern go up in flames.
Because with how perfect she looks tonight, no one is going to believe she’s mine.
