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This was all pretend.
I had to remember that.
Chapter Eight
Still Sophia
“All right. So, we gotta get our stories straight. What have you told people?”
I blinked at Rome. “About what? You?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing. I can’t legally say anything, remember?”
“I thought you said something to your friend. The roommate?”
“Oh. Right.” I shook my head. “Nothing really. I did tell her that I couldn’t say anything because I signed an NDA. That’s all she knows.”
“Okay. Great. I told my brother that we met when I hired you to dog-sit and that we texted while I was on location. And now that I’m back, we’re dating. So, we should definitely use dinner tonight to learn everything about each other. It’ll make it more believable when we’re around my family. Especially since you aren’t an actor.”
He was right about that. I’d been told more than once that I shouldn’t play poker. My every thought was broadcasted on my face.
“I can just read your Wiki page if you’d rather.”
“That wouldn’t fool my family. Most of what’s out about me isn’t true.”
“Really? How’s that possible?” He’d done so many interviews and talk shows. How could so much of it not be right?
“Pretty much anything I say about my real life in an interview isn’t true. I make all that stuff up.”
“Oh.” He lied? Regularly? If anything, it reaffirmed my need to try to keep my feelings and our faux relationship separate. I couldn’t afford to mix up truth and our fabricated reality. “Why do you lie about your life?”
“I just…I’ve given up so much of myself to have this life. I want to keep some of me out of the press and only for the people in my life who really matter. It’s why I don’t have any social media.”
“But that’s not true. I’m pretty sure I follow you on Insta.”
“I don’t run it. Jeff or my publicist post stuff from time to time. And only if it’s contractually required. I just—I’d rather not put more of myself out there than I have to. That’s all.”
I felt bad. I never really thought about how much of themselves stars had to give up to do their jobs. I’d seen clips of daytime talk show hosts asking uncomfortable questions that clearly weren’t okay with the guests. How would that make me feel? To have my life picked apart by strangers who were only told part of the story—or none at all, if it was fabricated by the media?
The sound of my phone vibrating in my bag was a welcome distraction. Until I saw who was calling.
I stared at the screen for a few beats.
Rome glanced at me. “Given all that’s going on, it might be better to turn your phone off for a few days.”
I sighed. “After this call.”
And I answered it.
“Hi, Mom.”
“’Hi, Mom?’ Is that seriously all you have to say to me?” My mom all but shrieked.
I pulled the phone away from my ear with a grimace, and after a beat, returned it to my ear. “I take it you’ve heard?”
“That you’re dating some Richie-Rich actor and turned your whole life upside down? If that’s what you meant, then yes, I heard. Tori called me, squealing about who you’re dating. How does your brother’s wife know more about your life than me?”
