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He’s silent as he mulls over my request.
“I can do that,” he finally says. “But you’ll still always be Ames to me.”
“Always,” I promise him, squeezing his arm.
“What are we going to tell people?” he asks.
“About how we got together?”
“Yeah.”
I hadn’t thought that far. Tucker and I are barely broken up. Now I’m married to another man?
My phone vibrates in the cup holder, and I glance at the caller ID.
“Shit.”
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s Featherlight,” I tell him. “The producers.”
“Answer it. On speaker.”
I nod and follow his instructions.
“Hello?”
“Mia. It’s Fiona. Again.” Her tone tells me she’s not happy about speaking with me again.
“Hi, Fiona.”
“I understand congratulations are in order,” she deadpans.
“Oh—uh—thanks?”
“Fiona, this is Garrett Harrison. I hope you don’t mind, but Mia has you on speakerphone,” Garrett chimes in.
“Hello, Mr. Harrison.”
“Call me Garrett, please. Mia tells me that you’re the producer on the biopic of Catherine Parr.”
Is this what he’s like at work? Smooth? Charismatic? This is another side to him I haven’t seen.
But I like it.
A lot.
“My boss is,” she explains. “I’m an AP.”
“I find it’s usually those of us not quite at the top who do the majority of the work,” he says with a chuckle.
Fiona giggles on the phone. “You’re right about that.”
“I’m sure you’re calling because of the press that our little impromptu wedding has garnered?”
“Y-yes. That’s exactly why I’m calling. I told Mia a few days ago to try to keep press coverage to a minimum.”
I cringe at her tone. Why does this feel like fourth grade again when Garrett had to step in with our teacher because she said I was socializing too much?
