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Will murmured, “That’s weird to think about.”

“My advice to you? Enjoy your anonymity while you can,” Phoenix told him. “Pretty soon, you’ll have paparazzi following you down the street and fans asking for photos and autographs, no matter what you’re doing. Nice quiet evenings out are going to become a rarity.”

“Do you really think I’m going to become that famous?” Will looked skeptical.

“This role is a career maker. I fully expect you to be nominated for every award there is after Alex and After is released, and that’s going to throw the spotlight on you in a big way,” Phoenix said as he picked up the cat and held the door open, then followed us outside and locked up behind us. Meanwhile, Lorenzo and Will exchanged worried looks, as if they were just beginning to grasp how completely their lives were about to change.

On our way to the SUV, we were intercepted by Harper, who said, “Hey, guys. Anybody want to grab some dinner?”

Phoenix’s brow instantly creased into a frown, but I chose to ignore that as I told Harper about our plans and invited him along. It surprised me when he actually agreed to join us, but then he probably didn’t know a lot of people in San Francisco. He asked, “One thing though, do they allow pets in the art center? I’m trying to stay on my new pet sitter’s good side, and she’s supposed to be off at six.”

Phoenix said, “If you’re talking about a chicken, I doubt they’ll want a farm animal running around crapping all over the place and getting in the art supplies.”

“Okay first of all, she’s litter box trained,” Harper informed him. “Second, I’ll keep her in her stroller so she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Phoenix stared at him like he was out of his mind, but Gabriel said, “Let me ask if they’re okay with pets in the art center.” He sent a text, and by the time we reached the SUV he had a reply. “It’s not a problem. The building is closed to the public tonight, and the art center’s founder says he’s looking forward to meeting the chicken.”

“Okay, great.” Harper took his phone from the pocket of his light blue button-down shirt and sent a text as he said, “I’ll have Loco meet us there. What’s the address?”

Gabriel looked it up for him as Phoenix said, “If you’re trying to stay on your new pet sitter’s good side, shouldn’t you go get the chicken instead of making her drive it across town? Also, did you really name your pet ‘crazy’?”

“The chicken’s full name is El Pollo Loco,” Harper explained. “And the pet sitter just needs to put Loco in an Uber. I’ll do the rest.”

Phoenix raised a brow and said, “So, you named your pet after a fast food chain that serves chicken. That’s great. Don’t even get me started on the Uber.”

“Don’t judge me.” Harper sent his text, then turned to the rest of us and asked, “Can we all fit in here, or should I take my car?”

“We’ll fit,” Will assured him. “It’ll be cozy at first, but Lorenzo and I are getting dropped off in just a few minutes. After that, there’ll be plenty of room.”

We all wedged ourselves into the SUV, and Gabriel ended up sitting on my lap with his arms around my shoulders. I loved the fact that he was happy. It radiated from him and shone in his dark eyes. When I touched his cheek, he focused that sparkling gaze on me and smiled, and it felt like my heart tripped over itself.

After Phoenix dropped off Will and Lorenzo, Harper slid over and made room for Gabriel, who climbed off my lap but kept leaning against me and holding my hand. To make conversation, I asked Harper, “Do you always travel with your pet chicken?”

“I have to if I’m going to be gone longer than a couple of days,” he said. “She gets lonely without me, even though there are lots of animals at my house and plenty of people to take care of them. She even has a bunch of chicken friends, but Loco just wants her daddy.”

Phoenix frowned at him in the rearview mirror and said, “Yeah, that’s normal, calling yourself a chicken daddy.”

Harper shot him a look in the mirror. “Don’t chicken-shame me.”

I asked, “What made you want a pet chicken?”

“I happened to be in a feed store that had baby chicks, and I fell in love with Loco, who was the saddest, tiniest little chick of all. I took her home and hand-raised her. After a while, I thought she might be lonely for her own kind, so I got several more chickens.” He took out his phone and started showing us photos like a proud Dad. The first was a scrawny white chicken that honestly didn’t look like much, and he said, “This is my Loco girl.” Then he started flipping through more photos as he rattled off names. “This one’s Chickira, and that’s Meryl Cheep. And here’s Attila the Hen. She’s better than any guard dog, let me tell you. And these two are Pox and Noodle.”

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