Page 218 of The Doctors Will See You Now

That made me stop laughing. “What?”

“To the event. Please?”

“Are you nuts?”

“Please?” he asked again. “I want you by my side, Harlow. Nothing feels right without you anymore.”

I hated the idea of spending an evening in such proximity to Brent, but Jesus Christ, how could I say no to that?

“Okay.”

“Scott!”

“Dr. Erotic!”

“Over here, Scott!”

Several paparazzi yelled as I stepped out of the town car I’d hired for the night, buttoned my suit jacket, and turned to hold a hand out for Harlow.

But if I’d thought they were loud or persistent before her fingers—with bright red manicured nails done special for the occasion—settled into the hollow of mine, I was a fucking idiot.

The quiet roar of paparazzi wind turned into a tornado in the span of an instant.

Harlow paused on her exit, but I squeezed her hand affectionately in both support and apology, and she started moving again.

She hadn’t told anyone about tonight, not even her boss. I’d wondered to myself if that was a good move for her career, but after the talk we’d had about her life and medical school, it was pretty clear Gossip and Harlow Paige weren’t a match made in celebrity heaven.

She wanted more out of life, and I wanted it for her. I just had to figure out how to be supportive without pressuring her. Things like emotional support and walking a balanced line for the benefit of someone else weren’t exactly my forte.

With her safely to her feet and her long, shimmering silver gown out of the way, I shut the door on the car and took her hand again to step forward. When I linked our hands, interlacing our fingers, and the two of us stepped up onto the curb together, side by side, so obviously a couple in the eyes of the media, everything went white.

At first, I thought maybe I was dying—the moment was surreal—but as Harlow’s hand clenched harder and harder in mine, tethering me to reality and her, I knew it was just the cloud of camera flashes assailing us from every angle.

“Scott! Who’s your date?”

“Dr. Erotic! Have you finally met your match?”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

At first, the questions were clear. But after several moments, the shouting started to blend together, and I couldn’t have answered even if I’d wanted to.

Hands grabbed at my shoulder, and I tensed in response until I realized some of the mayor’s security had noticed the uproar and were coming to assist us.

Up and through the crowd, they guided us without trouble as Harlow did her best to shield her face in an attempt to maintain her eyesight.

“Holy shit,” she muttered the moment the doors shut behind us, closing us off to their grubbing questions and never-ending digital assault. “I think I may have underestimated your popularity.”

I laughed out loud, feeling all of the anxiety that had built in my chest as a result of the mayhem release. Turning toward her with ease, I put a hand to her jaw and touched her lips to my own. Flashes once again lit up the night behind us.

I rested my forehead against hers. “I guess those are glass doors, huh?”

“Seems like it.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. I expected her to smart off, to give me some flippant response that I would no doubt love. But she didn’t. Instead, she grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, her face softening as she did.

“It’s okay.”

“Hi, Scott,” Brent called from the top of the stairs, completely fucking ruining our moment.