A phone rang in the early morning hours.

Becky opened her eyes and looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand. It read two-thirty.

Her door opened and Cass ambled in.

“Becks, you need to speak to Mervyn. It’s urgent.”

Sitting up in bed, she took the phone from Cass, scared it had something to do with Jack.

Please let Jack be okay.

“Mervyn, what’s going on?”

“Sorry to wake you. But we have a problem.”

“A problem?”

“A photo of you and Jack kissing is doing the rounds. I tried to bury it, but they’re not budging. I’m sorry, babe.”

“How the fuck did anyone get a fucking picture?”

“Calm down.” He went on to explain what could have possibly happened. “It’s not too bad. You can’t see his face.”

“That’s not the point, Mervyn. This was supposed to stay secret.”

“I tried, Becks. It was bound to come out, even though you weren’t the targeted celebrity this time around. I haven’t been able to get hold of Jack. You have to warn him. It’ll be plastered all over everyone’s Facebook newsfeed by morning.”

“Fine!” she yelled.

“I’m sorry, Becky. I pulled every string I could to squash it, but no go. I think we should postpone your trip next weekend until the smoke clears from whatever fireworks explode tomorrow.”

“Argh!” She cut the call, threw the phone onto the bed and held her face in her hands.

“It’s going to be okay.” Cass perched on the bed and rubbed her arm. “Want me to make you some tea?”

She nodded, already dialing Jack’s Skype account.

It wasn’t possible to wait for a more decent hour to tell him. He had to find out from her, not via the morning paper, or his morning browsing of his favorite news websites—if that was even something he did.

Her life wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed be newsworthy. She was just an author. Not a singer. Not an actress. They were supposed to be stalked by paparazzi. Not her.

He answered just as she was about to give up.

“Hello?” He sounded groggy.

“Sorry for calling at the crack of dawn,” she said. “We have a slight problem, Jack.”

“What problem, Becks?”

“You should have stayed in the limo. I told you to stay in the limo. Damn it, Jack, you have to listen to me from time to time.”

“Baby, calm down.” Less groggy now—her tone was waking him up fast. “What happened?”

“Photographers were at the airport following a tip that Justin Bieber would be there with Selena Gomez, and as the public are desperate they reunite, you can just imagine who was lurking around the corner. They got a photo of the two of us, Jack.”

He remained silent for a while. “Can you tell it’s me?”

“No, but they are the fucking paparazzi. They don’t stop digging until they get a story.”

“Calm down. They won’t find out, okay? Trust me.”

“Mervyn thinks we should put off our getaway next weekend.”

“Becky, no. Don’t let them do this. Don’t let them rule our lives, please. We’ll be safe, I swear. Trust me.”

“Okay.” She sighed.

He chuckled. “Go back to bed, crazy.”

“Thank you for being so amazing about all this. I’m freaking out.”

“That’s why you have me, Becks. Well, one of the reasons.”

“But you said you didn’t want the spotlight, the mess. This will probably get messy.”

“I also told you we would cross that bridge when we got to it. I am a very private person, Becks, but I won’t let anyone dictate who I can and cannot see. Now, go to sleep.”

“Okay.” She exhaled slowly, and Jack was gone.

She went down to the kitchen for the cup of tea Cass had promised her. She’d never been in a situation like this. But lately, everyone wanted to know her business. Mervyn, Mona, and Cass all worked their asses off to keep the press away from her.

She accepted a steaming mug from Cass.

“You spoke to Jack.”

“Yes, he told me to relax. That it’s not as bad as I think it is.”

“He seems to be taking it better than we expected.”

“He’d better. I’m crazy, insanely, head over heels in love with him. I’m waiting for flaws, Cass. He’s too perfect. It scares me.”

“Rebecca, this guy walked straight out of a romance novel and you’re waiting for his character flaw?”

“When something seems too good to be true, it usually is.”

“Or maybe he’s just your perfect guy. You met him because you were destined to meet him. Stop looking for flaws and enjoy it for what it is.”

“I don’t want it to end. I’m scared it’s going to, Cass.”

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“I know, but it feels like I’ve known him forever.”

“Just take it easy. What’s happening next weekend? Are you canceling?”

“No. I’m trusting Jack with this. And with my children.”

Cass made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat. “I like that he’s taking charge. It tells me he really likes you. Most men would shout it out to the world if they were dating someone famous.”

Becky smiled. “Not Jack. He’s the opposite.”

“Finish your tea and get some shut-eye. A big day awaits you in a few hours.”

“Okay.” She finished her tea and went back up to her room. Could she hope she wasn’t wrong about Jack? Perhaps she should take Cass’ advice. Maybe he didn’t have any flaws, because he was her perfect match.

A girl could dream, right?

---

He took a quick morning shower. He’d had a vivid dream, something about Becky telling him the paparazzi had snapped photos of them kissing.

Maybe it was his conscience working overtime. He shouldn’t have gone to the airport with her, but he couldn’t stay away. She was like a magnet. It had been so fucking difficult to watch her leave.

He’d been unable to breathe properly until she called to say she was home safe. Sometime soon, he’d tell her about Kate and the plane crash. This was the thought that had accompanied him to bed, and then the dream came.

Becky wrote books. And even if his own mother was one of her biggest fans, and the world clamored for more from her—she was only a writer.

So, what was it about Rebecca that made everyone want a piece of the action, a piece of her?

He walked into the kitchen.

Masterson wore a huge grin as he read the morning paper. “Have fun this weekend?”

“Yes, I like spending time with her. Though it’s none of your business.”

“Well, the paper doesn’t think so.”

Jack backtracked and snatched the flimsy pages from his sous chef.

There it was. A picture of him holding Rebecca. Her face almost, but not quite, obscured by his hoodie. Kissing him.

His gut sank to his knees. “No, damn it.”

“You really didn’t think it would come out?”

“You can’t tell anyone that’s me.” He pulled out his phone to call Rebecca.

Cass answered.

“Where is she?”

“Still sleeping. She is going to freak when she sees it.”

“’THE QUEEN MAY HAVE POSSIBLY FOUND HER KING’. They couldn’t come up with a better fucking headline?”

Cass chuckled. “I can only imagine the captions when they find out your name is Jack.”

He tried and failed to tamp down his annoyance. “Don’t.”

“Hey, what happened to ‘it’s not as bad as you think it is,’ Jack? You weren’t nearly as worked up when she told you a few hours ago.”

So, it had actually happened.

“I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t truly comprehend—even after what happened at the Boathouse—how big of a deal she was until I saw the photo in the paper.”

“Huge, Jack. For an author to have this sort of life, it’s just not normal.”

“I know.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Do you want to postpone your getaway?”

“No. Fuck ’em. Just keep my name out of the news.”

“We’ll try our best.”

“Tell her to call me when she wakes up.”

“When she calms down,” Cass amended. “I will.”

“Thanks.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

His mother was going to flip. He scrutinized the photo. He was nothing but a hoodie and a hand. Luckily, even his mother wouldn’t be able to identify him. She might recognize the hoodie, but there were millions just like it.

The tightness in his lungs eased. Please don’t blow up in my face.

He was already trying to figure out how he would handle this if it came out, but he shoved the thoughts away. He wasn’t planning on becoming a part of her public world. Well, it was inevitable to some extent if their relationship continued. But he was hell-bent on staying out of it as much as was humanly possible.

He loved Rebecca. And it was a given he could expect everyone to tell him it was too early to be certain, but he knew what he felt.

This was more than just being in love.

It was real. He wasn’t someone who fell in love at the drop of a hat.

This was much deeper.

He could take whatever came his way. And if it all exploded…well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.