He hands me his phone. “This.”
I take it from him and gasp. “W-what?”
“It was published this morning,” he says, his tone sharp as a razor. Nicky is pissed. “They didn’t even contact Frieda for a comment, feeling the photo is enough confirmation to publish the story.”
The photo is of me and Nicky locked in each other’s arms on the top deck of the yacht. From the clothes we’re wearing, it was taken nights ago, after we’d spent the afternoon exploring St Tropez, returning to the yacht after dinner. The quality of the image is high definition; there’s no denying it’s me and Nicky kissing like lovers with the moonlit sky behind us.
If it wasn’t so upsetting, I’d print that photo and keep it forever.
“How did they get this?”
He lifts a shoulder, getting up to pace again, angry energy rolling off him. “We must have been spotted during the day and someone followed us back to the marina. Because we’re at the dock, they wouldn’t have needed more than a high-tech zoom to get that shot.”
I look between him and the photo again, before scrolling down to read the article. Much of it is a rehashing of what was published when we were in Canada, but now with the evidence of the two of us ‘together’, the speculation is no more.
We’ve been outed as a couple. When neither of us has even broached the subject yet.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, taking on the role of the apologiseragain. “I should have been more careful.”
“Nicky,” I stand and inch closer to him like a person trying not to scare away a frightened bird. This next conversation needs to be handled carefully. “Are you upset about the invasion of privacy? Or because you didn’t want anyone to know about us?”
He moves quickly to stand in front of me in two steps. He takes my face between his big hands and places a soft kiss on my lips. “I would never want to keep you—us—a secret. If you’re happy for the world to know you are mine, then I’m thrilled.”
There he goes again, using words like ‘mine’, not knowing they are like catnip for me.
“Okay…”
He kisses me again, softly and far too briefly, before taking a step back. “I just wish we’d been in control. We haven’t even spoken about the future, and now we’re being forced to.”
“And how do you see our future?”
He pulls his lips between his teeth before letting out a long sigh. “How do you see it?”
“I see me with you.”
His smile is swift, his eyes bright with hope. “Yeah?”
My face screams duh. “Of course.”
He pulls me against his chest. “Cherry, I want that more than anything. But my life—it’s difficult. This sort of stuff,” he waves to his phone on the coffee table. “It’s not going away. It will probably get worse. Are you alright with that?”
Frissons of anxiety course through me at the idea of having my private life scattered all over the public sphere, but I push it down. We’ve gone through this before, after Canada, so I know what’s ahead of me. Only this time, we’ll be facing it together.
“I know it won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.”
His heart thumps in his chest under my hands and this time when he kisses me, it feels different. Like more. Like we’re making a pact.
“Oh my gosh,” I gasp, my anxiety ratcheting up ten levels. “I have to call my parents. And Matt.”
The last time our ‘relationship’ had been outed by the press, I’d called home, frantic to explain it all away, only to be confronted with strange nonchalance from my family. It was almost like they were disappointed the reports were false.
“Let me call Matt,” he says, his lips pulled into a firm line. “He needs to hear from me.”
I bite my lip to stop from biting his and nod. I’ll leave Nicky to deal with my brother, while I make a flurry of other calls to every person I’ve ever known.
Nicky and I are a couple. We know it to be true, and thanks to that paparazzo with their long-range camerazoom, now the world does too.
• • • • •
