I choked on the mimosa I’d been sipping, and Eddie J looked very pleased with himself as he patted my back and passed me a napkin.
For the next forty minutes, I watched Ian chat and take photos. He practically glowed from all the attention, so warm and animated with each person who came up to him. He told stories from his time on set, behind-the-scenes information that the influencers gobbled up in delight.
Despite being the only star there, Ian made every single attendee feel like the center of attention at one point or another. He remembered their names and really listened when they spoke. He gave little bits of himself to everyone, his energy and enthusiasm never once wavering.
I was worn out just from watching him.
The event wrapped up, and we were escorted to a back entrance with Darren in the lead. Restaurant goers lingered in the hallway to snag quick selfies and autographs. Ian was patient and kind with all of them.
By the time we made it onto the sidewalk where the driver waited, there was a crowd of thirty people or more. Men with cameras stood atop a low wall that surrounded the restaurant, poised and ready.
The sudden appearance of so many fans and the fact that we were greatly outnumbered had a thrum of fear mingling with my discomfort. There was an inexplicable urge to reach for Ian’s hand, to put myself between him and all these people who wanted something from him.
Eddie J placed a guiding hand lightly beneath my elbow. “Stay with me. Darren and Ian have this whole thing down to a science. He’ll say hello, let the paps snap a few photos, and then he’ll be in the vehicle with us. If you draw attention to yourself, he’ll be distracted and worried about you. Just follow me, okay?”
My palms were sweaty, and I swiped them awkwardly down my jeans as I nodded. My anxious gaze followed Ian, but my feet stayed the course, and soon I was in the back of the huge SUV watching everything play out just the way Eddie said it would.
Darren opened the car door a moment later, and Ian darted inside, still wearing his Dorian Masters grin. I heard the bodyguard get settled in the front passenger seat. Almost immediately, the SUV was in motion as cameras followed our progress down the busy street.
“You okay?” Ian asked, placing a comforting hand on my thigh.
“Yeah. Of course,” I replied, but I had to swallow twice before the words would come.
I listened as Eddie J rattled off the plan for the rest of the day—dinner with Ian’s manager and agent and various other important people. But I zoned out after that, thinking about Ian’s reality here in Los Angeles.
How was he ever supposed to take George anywhere? Was he planning on keeping the kid a secret forever, only interacting with him in private? What if George had a school play or started participating in a sport? Would Ian be in the back of every crowd with his hat and sunglasses on while Darren hovered conspicuously nearby? Or did he plan on keeping George locked away with Sophia? The boy needed to socialize with kids his own age at some point. He needed a rich, full life.
The normal, everyday things I did—grocery shopping, bowling league, trivia night—Ian would never be able to manage in a place where everyone was always on the lookout for him.
But seeing him today with his fans, he’d been electric, feeding off their energy and excitement.
Ian had a big personality. How had he survived in Kirby Falls all these months with so little spotlight? Had he missed the attention? Was he suffocating in a place so small and confined?
“Joanie, you ready?”
I snapped out of my thoughts at Ian’s words, the concern in his gaze.
The vehicle had stopped. We were inside the front gates of Ian’s home, and he was waiting for me to get out of the car.
“Right.” I let him help me down from the big SUV. “Sorry. I was distracted.”
Eddie J told us goodbye and that he’d meet us at the restaurant tonight.
“We have a long time before we need to get ready for dinner,” Ian said when we were back inside. “Eddie J brought some groceries over this morning. I can make us some lunch, and then we can take a nap or go back down to the beach. Whatever you want.”
My thoughts were a churning mass, and I blurted, “Did you miss all of that while you were in Kirby Falls?”
Ian froze where he’d been looking through the items in the refrigerator. “Did I miss what?”
“The fans. The attention. All of it.”
He closed the fridge door and turned to face me, his face wary.
“I’m not trying to imply anything,” I insisted, taking two steps closer so I could place a reassuring hand on his chest. “I’m genuinely curious. Seeing you today, Ian. God. The influencers, the people in the restaurant, the fans waiting outside for just a glimpse of you. You were so good at it—so good with them. You lit up every time you spoke with someone. It was like watching you expand under their attention. You were in your element. And they adored you. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people I overheard call you beautiful. Realistically, I knew you were famous, but theyreallylove you.”
Ian smiled, but it was wry and a little sad. “That’s not love, Joan. That’s infatuation at best or obsession at worst. When I was growing up, before coming to LA, where gorgeous people are a dime a dozen, I always thought that love was falling for all the parts of someone. Finding attraction in every little thing and growing to think that person—your person—is the most beautiful in the world because you love them. Maybe they have a crooked nose or big ears or whatever interesting characteristic that sets them apart, outside of traditional beauty standards. It’s love that changes your perception, building your attraction and holding your attentionbecause your mind and your heart agree on something. Maybe their noseiscrooked, but it’stheirnose, and you love it because it’s theirs.”
With a weary sigh, he admitted, “I think I’d rather have one person who thought I was the most beautiful person in the world simply because they loved me than have millions of fans who only thought they did. They know the face and the body. They know Dorian Masters. None of them has any idea who I really am.”
