Care didn’t have to have strings.
Care didn’t need to be grand and overt.
Care could be an omelet in the morning, chicken parmesan in the evening. It could be searching cabinets for “girl shit,” just as easily as it could be standing in front of a person invading our space.
The little things were those that I had been missing for so long. Those were the things Tal gave me.
And those were the things that I was going to give back to the rest of the world.
I wanted those people who didn’t have those little things, the quiet joy, to have them from me, even if they were just cookies warm from the oven and a quiet thanks.
“There’s a lot of people,” I whispered, feeling my steps slow unbidden. This had all seemed so easy in the house. Just bring cookies to the nice people outside. They’d appreciate the thought, and it would make us both feel good.
That was true.
What was also true?
There were a lot of eyes currently watching me navigate my way barefoot down the driveway, not a stitch of makeup on, my legs in black sweats, my torso covered in a bulky hoodie of Tal’s.
It wasn’t exactly glamorous.
It probably wasn’t another image I wanted plastered everywhere.
“Shit,” I whispered.
“I’m here,” the guard, whose name was Tex, said. “And we already have back up positioned by the gate.”
“Right,” I said. “So, I’ll try to pretend this isn’t terrifying because you guys won’t let anything happen to me.” And not that it was just occurring to me exactly what dating Tal would be like. People staring. More pictures—and probably unflattering ones at that, because I wasn’t going to stop wearing hoodies and leggings—gracing covers and blog posts.
He was worth it.
I felt that in my gut, without a doubt.
But this was also a lot for any normal woman to deal with.
Tex chuckled. “Oh, it’s not terrifying because of your safety.” I glanced up, met his dancing eyes. “You forget, I saw how you handled yourself in that video.”
I made a face. “But they still have my gun.”
Another chuckle. “You’ll be fine.” His voice dropped. “And I’m fully aware that it’s terrifying because that’s a shit-ton of people looking at you.”
Yup. That was what was terrifying.
“You’re not helping.”
“You got this,” he said, giving me the slightest nudge forward.
I clenched the platter tighter, lifted my chin. “Of course, I do.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“Tammy!”
I blinked, somehow surprised they knew my name when I really shouldn’t be, not when we had a hashtag and a couple name, but it was an otherworldly experience for a grown woman to just be shouting my name.
And then other voices rang out, joining the first.
Calling my name, asking where Talbot was, if we were all right. The paparazzi were shouting, too. Telling me to smile or to look here or there. I did my best to ignore the cameras and walked to the woman who first called my name. “Hi,” I said through the gate. “I’m Tammy.”
She smiled. “I know your name,” she said, and I could have smacked myself. Oh, of course she knew it. She just called out to me. “I’m Mary.”
“Nice to meet you,” I murmured then stalled out for several awkward moments until I lifted the tray. “Well . . . I just want to thank you for your kindness, so I . . . um . . . if you like, I baked some chocolate chip cookies. They’re nut-free, but they have eggs and dairy.”
Her brows drew together. “You baked them? For us?”
I felt my cheeks go pink. “Um . . .” I nodded. “Yeah, I— They’re still warm from the oven.”
“Oh.”
I held up the napkins.
Her face lit up as she reached for one of the paper squares and used it to pick up a cookie through the gate. It was silly and a little difficult, but we managed.
Then she took a bite . . .
And as I moved on to the next person, spending a couple of moments talking to them, maneuvering them another cookie, I knew this was right.
Show that care I’d missed out on, that I’d longed for, to others.
Without expecting anything back. Without strings and expectations because in the process of that giving, their smiles, their words, the blips of happiness on their faces filled me up in a way that I hadn’t even known was possible.
And I knew that even though my life had taken a sharp right turn over the last few days, I would be just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Talbot
I held a file in my hands and a whirlwind of butterflies in my stomach.
It had been a week since Tammy had wooed the crowd in front of the gate with her homemade cookies—a recipe Maggie had giddily shared on my Instagram, along with a snap of those fresh-baked circles of goodness I’d taken before they’d all disappeared. The crowd had mostly gone at this point, only a handful of paparazzi still camped out front.
But I didn’t care.
One, because we’d snuck out in the dead of night to my new house hidden in the hills a good distance away.
And two, because this house didn’t have any clear lines of sight for cameras, and Tammy had reviewed the security procedures with the team. There wasn’t anything sexier than a woman stating words like “line of sight” (see? I learned that one from her) and “backup security rounds” (I liked her rounds, ha) and “patrol the perimeter” (which was just fun because of the alliteration—patrol perimeter, patrol perimeter, patrol perimeter).
But the point was that she felt comfortable, I felt comfortable, and we were able to live together without the intrusion of cameras.
It was like the best first date ever. And also the longest.
Which was fine with me. I didn’t want the date to end. I wanted it to go on and on and on, to never stop and . . . that brought me to the folder in my hand. The one I needed to show Tammy because I was set to leave
