Nowthatwas something I could understand—the strange dichotomy, the love and hate. I had fans, and I needed those fans. My entire career was built on people across the world liking me and keeping me relevant. If Dorian Masters was no longer popular, I wouldn’t be in demand for roles.
And while I appreciated the people who supported my career, I also had open case files with my local police for two stalkers and three more for restraining orders on fans who’d taken things way too far. Being a celebrity meant being in the public eye—being a commodity. People thought they knew me because they saw me on their television screen or watched me give interviews on social media. Lines got blurred often. It was why I fought so hard to keep my private life private, in order to keep Georgie safe.
So I could understand the push and pull between needing and wanting the strangers you depended on, and I didn’t begrudge the people of Kirby Falls their well-meaning resentment.
“Mac’s accepting you now,” Brady teased. “But if you take her regulartable at Apollo’s or snag the last piece of Japanese cheesecake at her favorite bakery, that’ll be a different story.”
Everyone laughed, including Mac.
“Well, I solemnly swear to never reveal the hidden treasure that is Mattie B’s. And if pressed, I’ll say I got food poisoning here, and the owner tried to grope me,” I told them.
“Fine by me!” Mattie called from behind the bar. “But at least describe me as thehotowner.”
I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Our party broke up after that. Brady and Mac walked down the street to their apartment. Mercer had nursed one beer all night, so he was driving Candace back home.
That was how I found myself alone with Joan, walking in the direction of her car.
“Are you this way, too?” she asked, pointing north down Main Street.
“Yep,” I lied.
A comfortable silence descended as our shoes scuffed along the wet sidewalk. Streetlamps glowed warm and bright, lighting up Main Street. This looked like the kind of place that went all out for holiday decorations. I was excited to see if that was the case in the coming weeks.
“Tomorrow’s Thursday,” Joan said suddenly. “I’m still happy to take George in the afternoon, if you want.”
Guilt had me swallowing hard. Georgie wasn’t Joan's responsibility. It wasn’t her fault he’d taken a liking to her and was sneaking away from his nanny in order to spend more time over at the orchard. She’d gotten so irritated earlier when I’d offered to pay for what was essentially babysitting. I didn’t understand why Joan would agree to something like this.
“I feel like I’ve maybe forced myself into your life enough already.”
“What?” she mused. “By stalking me at my work?—”
“Okay, we established that you were the one stalking me.”
“Practically chasing after me?—”
“Rude. I call that jogging.”
“And stealing my favorite coffee mug at my parents’ house.”
I winced. “Sorry, I didn’t know about that one.”
Joan stopped walking, so I did too.
“I’m just giving you a hard time,” she said. “Yes, you weaseled your way into my life and my farm and my parents’ group chat. But George ... he’s not a bother. He’s funny and sweet ... and he wants to be a farmer.”
Joan smiled then. It was barely there, a tiny whisper of amusement, but her eyes were so soft in the glow of the streetlights that I felt my throat go tight.
I didn’t know Georgie wanted to be a farmer. Couldn’t even imagine him initiating a conversation where we talked about what he wanted to be when he grew up. But clearly, he’d confessed his dream to someone. And she was staring at me like that was, maybe, the best thing she’d ever heard.
As much as the knowledge hollowed me out, I was grateful my nephew had a safe space to make those confessions, to share those dreams. Even if it wasn’t me.
I cleared my throat. “He does?”
Joan’s tender expression lingered as she nodded. “Yeah. And if he wants to learn, I’ll teach him. He’s a good kid. He won’t be any trouble.”
Georgie’s nanny, Sophia, was on my payroll. She got a salary, vacation days, and time off. I paid her overtime if I was forced to travel on my own for an interview or an appearance and leave George behind. Darren protected my nephew and watched over him, too. But he was paid to do it.
