Page 33 of While You Were Trending

Mabel cleared it with all of us last night after Ten left to go home.

The director and producer want film of Declan doing normal life things in addition to making wine, and our large eat-in kitchen is classically Victorian. It’s a great backdrop for meals.

But my brain is still half slush and my mother texted me right before I went to bed, asking if I’d buy her a fancy hat she found on the internet to replace the one that burned in the barn. She’s asking me since she doesn’t want Caro to think she only loves her for her money.

Like it’s okay formeto think my mom only loves me formymoney.

My money that would save our home if I had it, which I don’t.

So I’m not operating well this morning.

Declan glances at me, then shakes his head at the man aiming a camera at him. “Take ten, yeah?”

“Food’s gonna get cold,” the guy replies. He’s thirty, maybe thirty-five, dressed in all black, not unlike Mabel, with dark spiky hair and eyebrow and septum piercings.

Declan grins at him. “Eh. I make terrible eggs anyway. Go take a break. Get some B-roll out in the fields. Won’t be the only morning I eat breakfast here.”

The other guy glances at me, then at Declan again, and once more back to me.

“What?” I say on a sigh, prepping myself foryou’re Ginny Rhodes, but instead, he sticks a hand out.

“I’m Shade,” he says. “Sincesomeonedoesn’t have any manners and didn’t introduce us.”

“She’s not going on camera,” Declan mutters.

Shade smirks at him. “Doesn’t mean we’re not polite.”

I hesitate, then take his hand and shake. “Ginny.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ginny. See you around.”

He nods to both of us, then takes his camera and heads out the back through the mudroom, leaving the lights and mic set up.

Declan eyes me. “Morning,” he says hesitantly.

“Good morning,” I reply with a fraction of the warmth I give my friends here, hating that I have reason to be so guarded in my own home, then continue on my path for coffee.

“I figured it out,” he says, watching me like I’m a feral groundhog who might bite.

I channel my best friend and regard him with detached attention. “Figured what out?”

“You’re not a cult.”

“I told you we’re not a cult.”

“But you all went viral. All of you who live here. You. Cricket. Samantha and Olivia. Dori. Heath the handyman and Pip too.”

At least he hasn’t figured out that Mabel’s also gone viral.

She was in costume for most of her internet-famous time, and very few people realize her ex doxxed her. Or if they knew he did it, they don’t know it was her that he exposed.

“Doesn’t your contract forbid you from using Wi-Fi and cellular networks to do internet research while you’re here?” I ask.

He smirks at me over his mug.

No,mymug.

He’s using my mug again.