It was comments like those that reassured me we were okay. The way her easy-going smile blossomed on her cheeks after she made such statements. Despite her hesitancy, and need to feel separate from me, things were flowing smoothly. While I wasn’t happy with some of the decisions she was making, I recognized that was part of compromising.
And compromising was one of the biggest obstacles in a marriage.
There were a lot of things I enjoyed about having her working alongside me, beyond just the fact that I could see her regularly. I also enjoyed the fact that everyone knew we were together. I didn’t have to hide how I looked at her, and we didn’t have to conceal our hugs or kisses on the cheek. I respected her want to keep things professional, but every so often I would sneak a kiss to the side of her neck.
It was nice to be met with people who smiled instead of people who judged.
After all my meetings were done for the morning, I stopped by Abby’s office. I wanted to see if we were still on for lunch, but if she was busy I didn’t want to disturb her. I looked through her office window and saw her head tilted towards her desk, her phone in her ear and her mouth talking away, though I couldn’t hear what she said. I waited until she was off the phone before I went in, and the smile that crept across her face warmed my heart.
“Lunch time already?” she asked.
“Yep. You ready?”
“Give me a minute to finish writing down a couple things. Meet you at the elevator, okay?”
My eyes couldn’t take in enough of her. The way her calves flexed in her heels. The way her pencil skirts hugged her hips. The way her flowing blouses teased revealing the swell of her breasts underneath while still being professional. The pantyhose that kept her legs warm whenever the L.A. breeze kicked up. She was a vixen. An eyeful of exquisite beauty. There wasn’t an inch of her that hadn’t been discovered by me, yet she still had the ability to take my breath away.
I was the luckiest man alive.
After escorting her to my car, I kissed her before she got in. The restaurant I had in mind specialized in gourmet pizzas, and I couldn’t wait for her to try it. It was her favorite type of takeout, and one I’d shared with her for the first time her second night in L.A. I’d laughed when she told me to get two pizzas, and then I watched her devour an entire pepperoni and mushroom pizza all by herself. It was impressive, and I enjoyed watching the smile on her face as she ate every last slice.
When we pulled up to the restaurant, there were a few paparazzi camping outside. I didn’t think they were following us. This type of place was known for its more infamous clientele. But I could see the hesitation growing behind Abby’s eyes as I pulled in and parked.
“Abby, look at me,” I said.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“Just smile at me and ignore them. This is normal for a restaurant like this. These guys are scattered throughout L.A. to get candid shots of the rich and famous.”
“Yeah, okay. I can do that,” she said.
“You are a brilliant P.R. rep, Abby,” I said, smiling. “You’ll get in a groove and find that you handle them much more naturally than you are thinking right now.”
I climbed out of the car and went to open her door. Taking her hand, I helped her to her feet, then held her close to my side. Our fingers were laced as the cameras turned towards us, shutters clicking at exorbitant speeds as flashes went off in our vision. I looked over at Abby and smiled, trying to catch a glimpse of what she was doing as we walked up the steps.
It wasn’t until we got into the restaurant that I spotted the look of panic behind her eyes.
“It’s okay. Come here. They aren’t allowed inside,” I said.
I wrapped my arm around her as our hostess sat us at our booth, but Abby’s strange demeanor didn’t fade.
It was odd for someone in P.R. to be that squeamish around cameras. She seemed to handle them so well at the conference, with her head held high and her shoulders rolled back. Where was that woman now? Everyone knew we were together, and not just the people in our office. The nation—the world—knew we were engaged. They knew we were wildly in love and getting married.
What was she panicking about?
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah. I just—wow, that was a lot of flashing. I almost couldn’t see in front of me.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I said. “The best thing to do is actually look down a bit. Not right into their lenses, but down at their feet. They get the smile they want and you get to keep your vision.”
“Do they ever go away?” she asked.
A look of exhaustion swept across her stare before she lowered her eyes to the menu. It was like she had asked me a rhetorical question. A question that was running through her head, though she hadn’t meant to blurt it out. She was on edge during our entire meal and barely touched her food. It all had me worried.
“You don’t like it?” I asked.
“No, no. It’s good pizza. I’m just—distracted is all,” she said.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“They’re not allowed to, you know—just stand outside the apartment or whatever, are they?”
“No,” I said. “But that is one of the reasons why I’d prefer to have a car fetching you in the mornings. Until you can get your bearings and learn how to deal with them, at least. The driver is well-versed in how to handle those types of situations.”
“Ah,” she said.
“Abby, if you’d like something else from the menu—”
“The
