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“Only the worst.”
His chuckle vibrated his chest and mine. “Lies, demon. All lies. You like my hugs.”
That had me pushing off of him and turning away so he wouldn’t see the heat in my cheeks, which seemed to want to burn down my well-constructed house. “Let’s get out of here and on with the show.”
A car waited for us downstairs, as did a few paparazzi. Alex made me pose with him, slipping his arm around my waist and securing my hip in his grip. When photogs yelled invasive questions about the status of our relationship, he winked and gave an enigmatic smile that had them clamoring with even more questions, then hurried me into the car and closed the door on them, the tinted windows blocking their view of us.
I shuddered. “Wow, I’m not normally of interest to them. That was unfun.”
He glanced out the window as the driver pulled into traffic, then back at me. “Let’s just be clear: those guys were waiting for someone way more famous and I was their consolation prize. The only reason they took so many pictures was because I had Mo Aronson’s gorgeous sister on my arm.”
“Gorgeous, huh?”
His eyebrow winged up. “Come on, Cool Girl. I’m not saying anything you don’t know.”
In my head, I was shouting,Oh, now you think I’m gorgeous, post-plastic surgery, braces removed, and my tits growing in? Because you seemed to think my looks were laughable before.
Damn right I still hold a grudge. Those were formative years, baby.
Also, who cares what you think, Alex Murray?
You’re fake, this is fake, your face is fake, everything is fake.
The car pulled to a stop at the sidewalk with nothing around except buildings and pedestrians.Is he going to push me off a roof? Seems plausible.
We got out and Alex produced an ornate key from his pocket, which fit in the non-descript gate nestled between two brick buildings. He ushered me through with a hand on my lower back, sending a jolt up my spine. We were in a secret garden. Splashes of color from late blooming flowers and leaves that looked like they’d been dipped in orange and yellow paint contrasted with the thick, green grass and gray stone pathways.
“Where are we, Mr. Murray?”
“A place a friend told me about and let me borrow their key for the day. I thought it’d look good on Insta.” His hand fell from my back and planted in the grass, flipping himself upside down. He walked on his hands a few paces, then turned back over and gestured for me to follow him like everything was normal.
And in Alex’s world, it was.
A simple, classic fountain acted as the centerpiece of the garden. Leaning against it was an acoustic guitar I recognized as Alex’s. Beside that was a picnic spread on a red and white checkered blanket.
He dipped at the waist and presented the setup to me. “My lady.”
I stopped and gawked. Truly, it was all I could do. I didn’t even know if I liked picnics beside fountains, but fake or not, the lengths Alex had gone to had taken me aback. Was this what it was like to date him, or was he playing it up for the sake of pictures?
“This is an unexpected gesture.” I took a seat on the blanket, tucking my legs to the side. “Is there actual food in that basket or is it just for show?”
He sat down and opened the basket. I wasn’t even hungry, but when he took out an oversized wedge of cheesecake, my stomach growled.
“I know how you feel about dessert.” He took out two forks and handed one to me.
“Do you?” I picked up the plate, holding it close. “Then you should also know this is mine.”
He winked, then reached into the basket and pulled out a slice of apple pie with a mountain of whipped cream on the side. “I do know you. If you knewme, you’d recall cheesecake is not my jam. This apple pie is about to be demolished, though.”
He tucked in without explanation on where any of this had come from, how it had been planned, or what the deal with the guitar was. When I didn’t immediately begin to devour my cheesecake, Alex swiped a finger through his whipped cream and tapped the tip of my nose.
“Come on, Boo. I’m not poisoning you. Eat.”
Huffing, I shoveled my first bite into my mouth, leaving the whipped cream on my nose. It was good. Possibly the best I’d ever tasted. Decadent and rich beyond measure. So creamy and thick, it coated my tongue to the point of obscenity. I groaned with each bite and whimpered with each swallow. This was New York, so of course the cheesecake had to be delicious. It was law or something, but this slice was in a class by itself.
Alex scratched his nose, then pointed to mine. “You got a little something there.”
My eyebrows shot up as I sucked every last crumb from my fork. “Do I?” I swiped at my face, avoiding my nose on purpose. “Better?”
