Page 155 of Fame and Obsession

I pull her forearm away. “Yes, but you’re my idiot, and I’m going to marry you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Oh, Julian.” She bats her eyelashes. “Every girl dreams of the day she’s proposed to by being told she’s an idiot.”

“Give me your hand.”

“Excuse me?”

“For fuck’s sake, stop arguing about everything and just give me your hand.” When she does, I open my palm. Taking the plastic ring I’d popped off the syrup mini bottle, I hold it up to her face. “This is a pre-engagement, completely worthless, black plastic band. It means I won’t pressure you again today.”

“Thank—”

“I said today. But once I put this on, it stays, you got me? The only time you take it off is when I put the real one on, capisce?”

A small smile swirls around her lips. “Capisce.”

I clear my throat. “Phoebe Ryan, will you continue to illegally borrow other people’s cyber secrets and write scandalous stories about me on public forums, even when I bitch about it? Will you wear my piece-of-shit syrup ring?”

The full grin that breaks out across her face is one I haven’t seen since we traded barbs on the skeet-shooting range. I’ve missed that Phoebe.

She nods. “Yes, Julian. I’ll wear your piece-of-shit syrup ring.”

Just as I push the plastic on the third finger of her left hand, a light flashes and a photographer jumps behind the shrubbery wall with frightening agility. He isn’t quick enough, though. I’d fucking recognize that jerk-off goatee anywhere.

“You don’t have to dive bomb the ficus, Chad. I’m not going to attack you.”

With catlike precision, he rises from behind the tree and lifts an eyebrow. “I can’t afford another memory card right now, Bale. And, it’s Ollie.”

“Keep your picture, Chad. Just do something worthwhile with the money.”

Narrowing his eyes, he backs away as if he doesn’t believe me. As he guards his camera with his life, he nods in Phoebe’s direction. “Whatever. Oh, by the way, happy birthday, Phoebe.”

With that, he’s gone.

I turn back around and gape at her. “It’s your birthday?”

I should’ve known this. I memorized every pertinent piece of information the internet had to offer.

She just shrugs. “Is it October twenty-eighth already? With everything going on, I totally forgot. Birthdays aren’t a huge deal to me. I never had parties growing up. A cupcake from Mom was usually the extent of the celebration.”

I stare in disbelief. “You’ve never had a party?”

“There was never any money for that stuff. Plus, Dad would’ve just gotten drunk and embarrassed me anyway. Not that any parent would’ve let their kid come over. They knew about my dad.”

“But it’s your birthday.”

The corners of her mouth turn down. “Seriously, Julian, it’s not a big deal. Especially since Halloween falls three days afterward. My father’s surprise visit at Dreighton kind of ruined the day for me. So I’m twenty-three. Big whoop.”

Without a word, we both dig back into our food. I have to leave in four days. But this time is different. I have someone to come home to.

And that someone has twenty-three years of celebrating to do.

Forty-Two

Phoebe

A week later, Julian came back from California acting extremely suspicious.

Supposedly, tonight we’re going to dinner, but he claims to have a surprise for me, now I have this new blindfold as an accessory.

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