Page 107 of The Sun and Her Star

“I kid, I kid. She’s got bunions. Let’s go eat mozzarella and all the cured meat we can fit on a plate.”

“Sure,” I smile distractedly. By the time we’re seated, my heart and mind are both racing, trying to understand what just happened.

“Don’t tell me you believe those lies, Apollo,” Reena asks as our waitress walks away from the table. I haven’t said a word since we sat down. I’m racking my brain and trying to decide what to do. I grab one of the small half-moon crostini and pile it high with salami and a slice of the most delicious smoked mozzarella in the world and shove it into my mouth without answering.

She does her weird glaring thing and in classic Reena fashion, she decides, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, and she shoves her own overloaded crostini into her mouth.

I’m panicking. Graham can’t be doing all of this and still seeing that woman. He wouldn’t. But why is she here? Why hasn’t he mentioned it? Why is Graham paying for her clothes?

“Apollo. Justaskhim. Don’t sit here and make up fantasies about what the truth is. You can ask him face-to-face.”

“There’s an event tomorrow,” I say.

“What event?”

“He’s got some big endorsement deal. They’re having some sort of drinks thing.”

“And you didn’t invite me?”

“You’re invited. Sorry, he invited me this morning. I meant to tell you, and then I forgot,” I say and cram more cheese in my mouth.

“Well, it will be the perfect opportunity ask him face-to-face,” she says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I take a huge gulp from the glass of red wine in front of me. “No, I don’t want to ask him face-to-face. I don’t want to do it in public. I’ll cry.” My lip trembles just thinking about the conversation. “I would rather not have my heartbreak publicized or captured on video by one of his crazy fans and posted on Instagram.” I take a huge bite of the fennel and salmon salad.

“Why do you assume that it’ll be heartbreak?

“Because, it always is,” I snap. “At least where Graham is involved,” I add piteously.

She narrows her eyes at me. “If you’d let him fuck you, you’d know …”

I wave a dismissive hand.

“It’s true. If you were letting him get in there, you’d never believe anything but how crazy he is about you. I mean, even without giving it up, his wooing is like on fleek.”

“Since when do you sayon fleek?” I take another gulp of my wine.

“Since Graham Davis decided to teach a master class on how to make a girl fall in love with him.” She cups her chin in her hand and stares off dreamily.

“Cut it out.” I shove her back, and she just bats her eyelashes. “I’vetoldyou. I’m scared. The last two weeks have been crazy. When we’re alone, it’s wonderful. It’s just like old times. We laugh and talk. We’ve even been reading together again. But the minute we step outside and someone recognizes him, it’s like a bucket of cold water to the face.”

“He’s famous, what can he do? Wear a mask?” she asks through a mouth full of olives.

“No, I mean, I know it’s not anything he can help. And it’s actually not that bad. Just a few people ask for selfies. But since someone posted that picture of us at the Strand Bookstore, people have been camped out there every day. One of my favorite places and it’s ruined,” I pout.

“You are so dramatic.” She nudges me with her foot.

“I think I have the right to be. But I mean, he’s talking about becoming a teacher and just being a normal human being. But at the same time, he’s signing this huge dealrightnowto be the face of some line of athletic water. It’shuge.”

“So, I’m still waiting to hear the downside. One of the hottest, richest men on the planet is wooing you like crazy. Your apartment looks like a fucking flower shop.”

“Yeah … he’s been so amazing,” I admit, and can’t help but smile. I’ve woken up to a flower delivery every single morning. He brings lunch to the gallery every day and is outside waiting to walk me home when I’m leaving. We walked about two blocks the first time before I got tired of people stopping and staring or waving awkwardly at Graham and ordered us an Uber.

“So, what’s the problem? I know it’s not Lucas. I saw a blonde head disappearing into his place last week …”

“Ugh. He’s a pain in the ass. I wish I hadn’t agreed to this charade. Of course, he has no clue that Graham and I are more than friends, and he’s been badgering me to invite him to dinner, so he can try and sign him as a client.” I moan.

“He’s the worst. You should just tell him about you and Graham.”

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