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Then with one sentence, our bubble burst.
“Can I get a pic?”
TWENTY-NINE
SEBASTIAN
“Can I get a pic?”
A seemingly innocent request. Except when it’s the absolute last thing you want to hear.
I turned slowly and found Gary’s cell phone in his hands. Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed it from him. “No photographs.”
Gary glanced between me and Faith, who put a placating hand on my arm. “What Sebastian means to say is that I’m trying to keep a low profile right now. I hope you understand. I’d be happy to come back and take a photo in a few weeks if that’s okay with you?” Faith plastered on a smile, one I’d come to hate because it was the one she used in public. Her professional smile meant to dazzle and distract.
A smile that always fucking worked, just as it was now, with Gary.
The poor kid looked damn near starstruck.
Somehow she’d breached the distance between them and gave him a hug. Just enough of a carrot to keep him quiet for now.
We made it to the car, and as soon as I shut my car door I planted my head on the steering wheel. “I fucked up.”
Faith placed a hand on my back, rubbing small circles. Just the gentlest touch soothed me. “You did nothing wrong.”
I lifted my head to meet her gaze. “I got complacent. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You took me to an animal shelter at the crack of dawn. It’s not like you paraded me around Times Square.”
My legs screamed for me to run. To get outside and burn off this anger but Faith’s face kept me in my seat.
I blew air out through my teeth. “What if he tells someone he saw you?”
She hefted a shoulder. “So what if he does?”
Didn’t she understand the seriousness of the situation? “He could place a few phone calls and within hours the paparazzi could come swarming.”
“Well, then they aren’t going to get much because I won’t be here in a few hours.”
“You know what I mean,” I ground out.
“Even if they come here, there’s no guarantee they will track me down at your place. And let’s say they do that. If I’m not mistaken, you have a heavy-duty gate at the end of your driveway.”
That was true.
“And didn’t you tell me your apartment in the city was the safest place to be?”
Where was she going with this? “I did.”
“Then it would stand to reason that your primary residence has all the same bells and whistles.”
“Literally or metaphorically?”
She laughed. “Both.”
Logically, I knew she was right. Physically, my palms began to sweat as my nervous system went into overdrive thinking about her at risk. About those assholes finding her.
She was right about one thing. I’d keep her safe, no matter what.
