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I grin. “Trivia night, huh?”
Teddy rolls his eyes. “I went for the three-dollar pints. Tanya gets super into it.”
The mention of her name takes care of any teasing. “Oh,” I reply, just to say something.
I know Teddy registers the change in tone. He opens his mouth and then closes it, like there’s something else he wants to say.
I could mention Kyle right now. Make up some ridiculous hobby he participates in—because I don’t actually know enough about him to know what he does when he’s not singing country music.
But I say nothing. The doors open to the hotel’s lobby. It’s mostly empty, which is a relief.
“So, this security team…”
“I didn’t call them,” I admit. “But I can.”
“No need. We should be able to give any fans the slip. Your show tomorrow night is only for what? A couple dozen people? I doubt anyone knows—much less cares—you’re in town.”
I laugh and look away. “We could get mobbed.”
Teddy grins. “Live a little, June.”
At some point—I’m not sure when—I stopped having fun.
I love singing. I like performing. I’m grateful I make money—lots of money—in a career most people have to relegate to a hobby.
But I let the downfalls of fame take center stage. The invasiveness, the scrutiny, the lack of privacy. The perks started to not feel worth the payoff. The novelty wore off.
A spark of excitement flares. Grows into a flame.
“Let’s go.”
Rather than start toward the doors, Teddy steps closer to me. He pulls the Yankees cap off his head and runs a hand a hand through his hair, messing up the short strands. And then he sets the hat on my head instead. Tugs down the front so it shields my eyes. I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
“Can’t make ittooeasy for them,” he tells me before heading in the opposite direction than I’m expecting. The rear of the lobby rather than the front.
I follow without hesitating. There aren’t many people I trust implicitly in this world. Teddy Owens is on that short list.
We pass a pair of restrooms and a small sitting area. Continue down a narrow hallway that leads to a door markedAusfahrt.
“There might be an alarm,” I caution.
Teddy smirks before swinging the door open. There’s no shriek. No security officers appear. He steps out into what looks like an alley. No one else is in sight, just a long line of dumpsters.
“I get what people go on about. Europe is gorgeous,” Teddy comments.
I laugh as we walk down the alley and emerge onto a bustling street.
“Right or left?”
I turn right, heading away from the hotel. The street is busy. Cars honk. German echoes around me. I try to recall the last time I was in the midst of a large crowd, completely anonymous. I can’t.
Teddy’s hand settles on the small of my back, guiding me down the sidewalk. The thin material of my dress isn’t much of a barrier.
Warmth—awareness—sinks through the fabric and soaks into my bloodstream.
“What sounds good for dinner?” he asks. His voice is light and easy. Unaffected.
I strive for the same tone. “I’m good with whatever.”
