I sat down and pulled Kate’s chair closer to me. Her arm brushed mine as she leaned over to look at my screen as I scrolled through.
“You’re trending. #FreakyFreddy and #MysteryMistress,” Sally said.
Kate’s hand went to her mouth. She bent closer to pause my scrolling. The sweet scent of her shampoo wafted up to me. “They want to know who I am? Is this bad? Should we just tell them?” she asked.
“No,” I snapped.
Kate looked up, hurt.
“I don’t want them digging into your life,” I explained. “You don’t do anything. My team will take care of this.”
Sally sighed. “Charlie, they’re going to know who she is when the reunion airs. The more mystery you create, the more they’re going to want to hound her.”
“We need time to figure it out,” I said, my brain already scrambling how to fix this. This wasn’t Kate’s fault. She didn’t deserve to have her life imploded because she talked to me. It was impulsive to take her to lunch. I should have stuck to my plan of giving us as much space as possible. But somewhere in the last twenty-four hours my selfish subconscious decided to spend every possible moment with her while we had the time together.
And now this.
“It’s only a matter of time before people put two and two together. Miss Dubois is online. She hasn’t hidden anything.”
There were pictures snagged of us from earlier today, when she was in the makeup chair, heads together, her face open and soft as she listened to me. Then another on set during the first part of the interview, just before lunch. Kate was clearly staring at my mouth as I smiled widely, bodies angled toward each other.
Christ. Was that how I looked at her when we were together? I thought I had things under control. No wonder the gossips were so wound up.
“They think we’re dating,” Kate said, glancing briefly at me and then away.
She took the phone from my hand without seeming to notice the intimacy of the action. I tensed. A simple accidental click to my email and everything would be over. She clicked on a headline and read, “‘Sparks fly on set? Sources on the set of the twentieth anniversary special of the classic television show,TerraFormative, have shared that former child star and known bad boy—’” Kate snorted. “Okay, well obviously this isn’t even journalism.”
I glanced up to see Sally smile at me, eyebrow raised.
Kate went on. “Yadda yadda. ‘Heated exchanges with mysterious woman. If you ask this reporter, there is definite intensity between these two.’ Then there are just a bunch of stupid GIFs.” Kate sighed and locked the phone. Then she seemed to realize whose phone it was and handed it back to me. “Here. Sorry.”
I grabbed it back, hiding a sigh of relief.
“This is good, kids,” Sally said. “We can use this free publicity. People are hooked on you two. And when her background is revealed, fans will lose their minds. It’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?”
I refused to look at Kate but felt her study my profile.
“Sally,” I said flatly. I refused to acknowledge the implications of us dating. “This isn’t fair to Kate—Miss Dubois. She didn’t ask for this. The press is relentless. You know this.”
Kate’s phone buzzed. When she pulled it out, the color drained from her cheeks.
“What is it?”
“It’s just Pete. He’s being crude.” She let out a sigh and pulled her shoulders back. “Do we need to get back on set?” she asked and put away her phone with shaking hands.
“You can take a minute,” I said.
“No. I’m okay. Really. Just feeling thankful I dodged a bullet,” she teased but her anxiety made me furious. I felt helpless and unable to protect her.
“What’s that?” Sally asked.
“Nothing,” I snapped. “We should get back on set. Stay on schedule.”
“Before you go,” Sally said. “We’re going to shift some things around. We can really take advantage of this.”
I balled my fists to keep from yelling and stressing Kate out.
“Let’s plan on having both of you on set all day the next few days, okay?” Sally asked.
