“Okay. Uh, thanks. I think. For the heads up.” Blake’s voice, curt. “It’s early.”
“Don’t mention it. Thought you’d want a chance to see before we start the day. Oh, and it’s hit the US news too.”
The door clicks shut.
I peek out from under the duvet. Blake stands with a paper tucked neatly under his arm, theDaily Mailopen in his hands.
“Don’t read that,” I groan sleepily at him. “It’s a pack of lies, whatever it says. Speaking of tabloid fodder.”
He’s still as a statue. Unmoving.
“Blake?”
Nothing.
Reluctantly, I get out of the warmth of the bed and retrieve my boxers from where they were flung in the heat of the moment at the foot of the bed. I go over to Blake and slide my arms around his waist from behind, resting my head against his shoulder. I skim the text before going to the photo essay across the top half of the two-page spread.
Filming forHollywood Ending, the American feature rom-com being shot in London, heats up between Lars Madden and Faith Rivers. Romance strikes the cast. Lars and Faith caught in an exclusive, kissing at a cast party.
Co-star Kelly Greaves spotted yesterday night locking lips with magnate William Locking outside of Severn’s. Meanwhile, up-and-coming Blake Sinclair’s all caught up in a whirlwind romance with local bookseller Aubrey Barnes of Barnes Books in Soho, as spotted in Cumbria and London…
The article goes on but I stop reading and gawp at the photos.
Me and Blake, in an intimate kiss in Cumbria, in our waterproofs outside in the woods on one of our walks. Then I see:
Lovers holed up in posh London hotel.
My eyebrows shoot up, while my stomach lurches at the violation of our privacy. How did they know? Did the holiday cottage manager give us up? Or other holidaymakers? How could this happen without us noticing? I give Blake a sidelong glance.
He’s staring, pale. I kiss his cheek but he doesn’t respond. Distractedly, he disentangles from me, goes to his phone on the bedside table, and starts scrolling.
“I don’t think any good will come of looking yourself up online,” I say. “If I know anything about the media.”
“Fuck,” he says at last, on the verge of tears as he looks at me. “It’s made a couple of the gossip sites. Like TMZ.”
“Well, gossip sites are just that, gossip. And the others?”
“E! News, for starters. Access Hollywood. As if our relationship’s entertainment.” He snorts, sounding uncharacteristically bitter.
I make a face, trying to find the positive in this situation. Struggling, I chew my thumbnail. “At least we’re not doing anything worse than kissing?”
He shoots me a dark look and I fall quiet.
“Sorry,” I say, chastised. “It’s an epic invasion of privacy for both of us, I know.”
“It’s a whole fucking nightmare. They’ve gone through half the cast, I swear,” he says with dismay.
“People think the lives of celebrities are extra entertainment. Whether on-screen or off. Somehow, they feel entitled—”
“Thanks for explaining how it works, Aubrey. I didn’t realize,” Blake says, irritated.
I blush and shut up, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look, I wish I could undo this. And it’s crap that they give no fucks about your privacy or mine or that of your castmates, but…thing is, that’s all out there. And—it’s not so terribly bad, is it? You know the saying, there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”
He stares at me and promptly bursts into tears. I feel horrible for having said very much the wrong thing at the worst moment. I get up and go to him, to draw him into my arms, yet he backs away like he’s been burned.
“What’s going on?” I ask, searching his eyes. Obviously, he’s upset, but I don’t get why he’s mad at me. “I haven’t said anything other than to my friends last night. And Lily before that, but Lily wouldn’t say a word. Obviously, some paps have an agenda—”
“You don’t get it!”
