When I join her at the breakfast table, the woman who’d checked us in comes quickly to greet me. “Mr. Dash, welcome to breakfast. I have your wife seated over here.”

She walks me to where Robin is seated, reading a little printed menu. We gave her the name ‘Dash’ when we checked in and paid, but how she’s just said it to me with this horrible knowing smile has made my heart sink. Hoping I’m wrong, I study the gleam in her expression and my heart sinks more because…yep she knows. Her eyes have that twinkling and over-excited—wait until I tell all of my friends on Facebook who I met today, hungry look. She’s also suddenly trying to over-act her customer service. People always do that.

“I have some great news for you two.”

“You do?” I answer, giving her a look that’s begging her to keep pretending not to know who we are—begging her not to ask any crazy questions or blurt out crap while I start glancing quickly around the room to take stock of the other people in here. My heart goes from sinking to a full-stop when I note that at least two tables of guests are trying to hide that they’re pointing cell phones at us.

Robin, still pinked cheeked from our kiss, has been pretending to stare at the menu this whole time so, thankfully, she hasn’t caught on yet.

“I’m making you two special omelets. You aren’t vegetarians, are you?” The owner lady holds up a steaming coffee pot as I sit in the chair across from Robin and answer tersely while directly glaring ‘how-dare-you-eyes’ at the people who think it’s okay to film us like we’re monkeys in a cage.

“Not vegetarians. And omelets sound great. Whatever you want to make we will eat. Thank you.” I try to dismiss her with a cheery smile and even more eye-begging.

She doesn’t budge. “Coffee for you both?”

“Yes, oh yes, and thank you.” Robin finally looks up at her while the woman pours us steaming hot cups before she finally walks away.

Robin’s eyes meet mine through her first sip of coffee and the smile drops from her face when she reads my expression.

One of her arched brows goes up in question, and before she can say a word, I answer her with a very small head shake. “We’re outed. Be cool. Make no sudden moves. Sip your coffee and act like you don’t know.”

“What’s going to happen?” She glances around, trying to act all casual, all while sloshing half of her cup of coffee off the side of the table, worse, some splashes on her lap.

“Oh…oops-ow.” She glances up, quickly setting the cup down as though it’s a dangerous weapon. “I’ve already failed. Don’t ever order me to be cool. I’ll never, ever be cool. We’ve discussed this—it makes me the opposite.”

She’s so cute I have to laugh, despite the stress and worry coursing through my body. I stop her hand from trying to mop up the sloshed coffee, and quickly drop our napkins onto the spill. In silence, we both watch the dark-brown seep into the bright white fabric napkins.

Again, I drop my voice to as low as it can possibly go. I lean in, brushing the side of her hot cheek, acting like we don’t know we’ve been outed, and that we’re just two people in love, about to have breakfast. “Well…try to at least sit very still.” I smile into her big worry-frozen eyes. “We’re fine so far. It’s still early. Despite what information has leaked out of here, and despite what is currently being posted online by the few tables of people in this room—who all seem to know who we are—this castle is also not set to re-open to the public until 10AM.”

“So what are we going to do?” She’s said that with such perfectly stiff ventriloquist lips, that I almost laugh out loud.

“We’re going to eat our breakfast, pose for a few selfies with the owner, do something similar with the intrusive, over-happy tourists and staff of this place.” I nod at the tables around us and to the one waitress who is running plates to the tables. “And then, because we have no bodyguards, I’m going to call for a car and we’ll hold steady up in our room until people arrive to escort us out.”

She blinks, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Right. Right. Easy. We’re fine. Like I said yesterday, this is just people after all. People just like us. We’re fine and safe, right?”

“Let’s hope so. I mean, of course we are,” I reply, not feeling safe at all. I reach for the phone I’d tucked into my back pocket and pull it out, just as the innkeeper brings us two steaming cheese and bacon omelets. “We may as well eat up. This could be a long morning for both of us.”

Robin, also pulling out her phone to check it, gets distracted by hers going off two hundred beeps a minute.

Mine starts buzzing in my hand even worse than hers. “OH hell-yes, we are so outed,” I mutter.

Her caller ID says: Mrs. Felix, while mine alerts me that my Uncle Gregory is trying to call me at the exact same time. We blink at each other helplessly but neither of us make a move to answer the calls.

Robin’s phone then flashes text alerts from Vere while mine has alerts from Hunter and Adam.

“This can’t be about us being spotted. It’s literally everyone trying to get contact with us. Maybe…maybe something’s happened to Sage?”

I shake my head. “I think, even though we’re both grown adults, we’re about to be chewed out by each and every person who loves us. We used to do this swarm-texting and calling to get Adam to return our calls when he ran away. Mass-group lecturing is about to happen to us.”

“Oh. Aww. That’s kind of sweet.” She giggles a little.

“No, it’s not.”

My grandmother calls through on my phone next while Gregory’s name and face light’s up on Robin’s phone.

Her brow furrows. “Which one of us should answer? We should, right? How bad could they lecture us for this stunt? They’re all the way in New York City with Sage,” she whispers out fast.

“I guess you’re right. You take Gregory’s next call. He’s always so nice that you might get off without anyone shouting.” I grin. “I’ll keep watch over us in case someone tries to approach the table while you’re on the phone. People always try to approach the table.” Quickly I add, “No more spilled coffee. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay. No more spills. He’s already calling.” She flicks me a look while sliding her finger over the screen to answer the call. “Hello? Gregory? Hi. Hello. Yes, it’s me. No. We’re absolutely fine.” She rolls her eyes at me with a little knowing smile. “We know it was impulsive, and we’re sorry. We’ve just made a plan to get back to the Orb London right now. Oh. You are?” She blinks, ducking her head lower. “Wait. What you’re here in England? Already? Sage also? Wow. Yay this is great news. I can’t wait to see you all.”

She smiles at me, then frowns as my uncle Gregory says something more. “What? That’s good, isn’t it? We can get there very soon, yes,” she whispers, as the smile she was making all but falls off of her face. “Royce was going to call for a car after we eat, but we can do it right now, yes. Yes, we will.” She blinks again, then puts her hand over mine, pulling the phone away from her ear to tell me, “A car is here. Already outside.” Back into the phone she says, “Oh, that’s a relief. Thank you, because as I’m sure you may have heard, we’ve kind of been spotted and Royce just showed me there’s a crowd forming outside and—oh what?” She pulls in a sharp breath. “Excuse me? Please repeat that?”

Her voice has changed to—tight—small—tremulous and she’s using a tone I’ve never heard her use before.

My eyes go immediately off the people I’m watching and onto her just as her face goes bone white.

“What?” She nearly shouts this time, and before I can stop her she stands up and reels back like she’s been shot. Her movement knocks over the wobbly antique breakfast table and crashes our plates plus both cups coffee to the floor, making glass scatter wide across the whole room.

Like she realizes too late she’s just done exactly what I’ve directed her not to do, she backs away more, clutching the phone and says again. “I’m sorry. Gregory. Again. Say it again please, because I think I don’t understand…”

Quickly, I stand up, right the table and apologize to the poor young server who’s dashed over in a flurry to help. I fish in my pocket for my wallet, and pull out a huge pile of Euros, placing them on the righted table while telling the waitress, “This is to pay for any damages as well as extra tip for you. So sorry.”

Without a backward glance at the girl, I approach Robin cautiously. She doesn’t move as I gingerly put my arm around her stiff shoulders, turning her back to the people holding the cell phones. “Robin. What is it?” I whisper—this time it’s loud and deliberate.

“Oh God. Oh God, please.” Her eyes are frantic as they clash with mine as she ends the call and hands me the phone. My stomach drops with fear, and I think maybe her first guess was right. “Is it…Sage? Is it my grandmother. Is everyone okay,” I ask softly.

She shakes her head. “No. Not Sage. Everyone’s fine, but…” She’s gulping for air. “There’s a letter and it says…well…they think…they…think…”

She looks up at me, her big eyes look like hot-blown glass. Too shiny from unshed tears—too wide from unguarded vulnerability. Fear?

My heart drops again. If this were any other situation, any other person, I’d drag her out of here before more words were said. But because I know that all that’s happened here is about to hit social media, like it or not, I can’t budge. If we leave now, she’s sunk for crashing plates and acting nearly insane right now. People are going to assume crazy stuff—like she’s on drugs, or that we had a fight or both. Mad-rumors will spread it all over the internet. Hell, based on how two of the people having ‘breakfast’ in here with us haven’t set down their phones this whole damn time, I figure these people are probably already filming us on Facebook Live or Instagram Live feeds right now.

“They think what?” I call out clearly, so everyone can hear me. “Honey. Love. Please, tell me what’s wrong.” I put my hands on her upper arms, and give her a little shake. “It’s okay, Robin. Tell me. Please.”

The owner has come in from the kitchen holding our omelets, as Robin blurts out: “Royce. Y-y-you—the people…that company you hired…they think they’ve found my father. People have him. That’s what they say, they’ve been holding him hostage.” Her face crumples and her expression is sheer broken-confusion. “It’s Ivory poachers in…in…Uganda. And…my father, they don’t…know…” She sobs out. “Only…. We need to go now. T-t-t0 verify photos. Only, they don’t know, they can’t tell—”

She places a hand over her mouth, her eyes boring into mine like she’s fallen into a tunnel and I’m the only person she can see or hear while she speaks through her fingers. “They don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

I lock gazes with the owner. Her expression grows from nosy to kind and, thankfully very concerned as she sets down her load of plates. Quickly, I turn on the charm on to her, and send her out a look that I hope draws her into our team because—damn—I can’t hold this face straight and I need do because I need this woman to be my ally.

I pull Robin deep into the circle of my arms, because I know she wants to hide her face, bury herself somehow, and once she’s next to my heart, I turn and speak loud enough so everyone who’s been photographing us or watching us like a circus side show, so they can hear every word. “I apologize for the terrible mess. My wife just got the happiest surprise of her life. See, her father has been missing. Missing in action—and—”

The owner lady butts in, “Missing in action. For over a year. We know all about your story. Everyone does, Mr. Devlin. What amazing news. Of course we now can all hope for the best, right?”

“Of course,” I manage, noting that Robin is about to lose it. I quickly change the subject by pointing to the money I’d left on the table, repeating what I’d said to her staff member. “That is for your trouble. For damages. For the mess, of course, and for the chaos our sneaking away here to your beautiful castle for some private newlywed time might cause you today.” I raise my voice to include everyone. “I apologize for everything, and I hope you all understand. We had wanted to take some photos with you all but now…” I motion toward Robin. “It seems we can’t stay longer.”

“We don’t mind that, not at all, we all know what it’s like to have a shock. I’m so happy her father has been located, and from the line that’s forming outside the castle this morning, I must thank you for making our little tourist attraction be on international news. I think your visit will help my business very much, sir.”

“Are we? Have we been on the news? Already?” My temples start to pound.

The woman nods. “Yes. Local last night, and national news this morning. Some big vans have been set up out front, hoping to catch your exit. My bookings are already up fifty percent for the summer, all in one day. Can I have this food packed up for you two?” She glances kindly at Robin and hands me some tissues for Robin’s tears.

“No. That’s not necessary, but we might need someone to dash up and grab our suitcase and the things we’ve left in the room.”

“Of course.” The woman signals to her helping girl who dashes off to complete the task.

I ask, “You wouldn’t be able to help us get to our limo? Mostly I want to get my wife—out of the line of—cameras.” I nod to the other guests, dropping my voice I add, “If we can do this quickly without the press out front being involved, I can have concert tickets sent over for you, for your staff and for a few of the people who’ve been inconvenienced today. Please. Can you help us?”

Her face grows bright with anticipation. “Yes. Certainly. I’ll call the bellman and we will figure this out. Oh, thank you Mr. Devlin. This is above and beyond.”

As we move Robin toward the back mudroom where we’d exited last night to go to the maze, Robin comes back into some sort of consciousness, she turns back and sees the mess on the floor and says, “I’m so sorry. I told you. I’m not. Ever. Cool.” She starts openly sobbing.

I force a smile to every onlooker, and get my arm around her tighter as I lead her out of the kitchen.

* * *

Once we’re in the limo, Robin hugs our little vintage suitcase on her lap, clutching at it like it’s some sort of odd floatation device that she will never relinquish.

And I, the entire way back to the hotel, simply keep my arm around her.

We don’t utter one word, because…it’s like we both understand that if we did, we’d have to talk about what finding Robin’s father dead or alive could mean—to her…to Sage…to me, hell… to us.

So we hold tight. Lips pressed into thin lines of silence, because we both know speculating on shit that is going to hurt either her, or me, or both of us at the same time—well what’s the point of that?