Page 78 of Crocodile Tears
I was used to being treated like being Deacon’s girlfriend was an honor I didn’t deserve, like I’d somehow struck gold and that meant every “average” girl now had a chance with him. It was a narrative they liked to spin, but exposure to it over time had desensitized me to it. I leveraged it into attention for our charity and more visitors to the zoo with practiced ease. As Deacon shifted back to music and as our relationship continued to thrive, people seemed to get over the shock of heartthrob Deacon Harrow being a happily taken man.
“Now, this is reported to be Deacon’s last film project for some time,” the tight-smiled journalist said. “What does this movie mean to you?”
“Well, as you know, all the proceeds for the film are going to the Simon Lachlan Conservation Fund,” I replied, bringing the conversation back to my message at hand. “And as the charity director, I know that it will mean a lot to all of the future animals we’ll be able to help. We’ve just started a very successful reintroduction program for the Almadran skinks, and this money will go a long way to helping them.” I leaned into the microphone and added, “And Deacon isn’t disappearing from the limelight, just shifting his focus back onto his music.”
“Did you know the soundtrack for this film is trending on Spotify?”
“It’s a collaboration between Rusty Sky Reverie and Lucky Role,” I explained, beaming and winking into the camera lens behind her. “You’ll love it. Go listen.”
“You and Deacon have been together for a while now,” the journalist prodded, and I already knew exactly what she was going to ask. “When are we going to hear those wedding bells?”
I let out a laugh as Deacon came and took my arm, rescuing me from the awkward question.
The reporter seized her opportunity. “Deacon, why no ring? Getting cold feet?”
It was an incredibly rude thing to ask, and I could tell by the pinch in his face that he wanted to give an honest reply, but instead he just smiled. “Oh, believe me, I have plans, and I absolutely won’t be sharing them.” My stomach fluttered as he slid his gaze to me. “I’ve been in love with the same girl since I was ten years old, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
The journalist swooned, and my smile widened as he guided me down the red carpet and into the theater.
Deacon leaned down and pressed his lips to my ear, whispering, “I can’t wait to peel this dress off when we get home.”
“So that you can help me into my sweatpants and rub my feet while we watch Dropout?” I asked with a grin.
He winked at me. “I’ve already requested the popcorn.”
“You’re not coming to the party at Teak?” Faith pouted as she escorted Ivy across the carpet to us. “The after-party is going to be wild.”
“I’ve had enough wild to last a lifetime,” I quipped.
“Why would I want to go to an after-party when I could be on the couch with this gorgeous creature?” Deacon added, pulling me into him.
“Ugh, you two are such homebodies,” his little sister said with a laugh. “No fun.”
“I’m sure Ivy will represent the film well enough for the both of us,” Deacon assured.
“Damn straight I will,” Ivy replied as she gave one more wave to the wall of cameras.
She looked back at Faith and beamed at her. She looped her arm with Faith’s, leaning into her side. The pair looked at each other with so much gushy affection, I swore cartoon love hearts were lifting all around them.
“We’re not that bad, are we?” I whispered to Deacon.
“Oh please, you two are a million times worse,” Faith replied with a guffaw. “You two are practically telepathic. You start laughing at each other’s jokes before you’ve even said them aloud. Seriously. It’s disgustingly adorable.”
As Ivy leaned over and kissed Faith, a hundred camera bulbs flashed and cameras clicked, the shutters sounding like a swarm of chittering insects.
“I smudged your lipstick,” Faith said, swiping her thumb across Ivy’s cheek. The cameras all chorused again as the two of them laughed.
“I don’t care,” Ivy replied with a shrug, and Deacon and I exchanged glances.
Yep, the two of them have it bad for each other, I thought. I’d been seriously skeptical about Deacon matchmaking these two together, his sister and his costar, but they fit surprisingly well—both snarky, bold, brash, talented, and beautiful. They actually made a lot of sense. I’d even grown some fondness for Ivy while she’d been on tour with us—something I’d never thought would be possible three years ago.
On the way over the threshold, Deacon stopped to give Faith a hug. This was the first time she’d walked the red carpet with Ivy on her arm, the two making their relationship “red carpet official.” And I knew what it meant to Ivy to have someone proudly stand in the spotlight with her, unafraid to love her even with a thousand eyes upon them.
“Photo of the four of you next to the poster,” Deacon’s new publicist, Ashley, called, corralling us like a group of school children to the poster outside the theater.
We posed, Deacon and I on one side, Ivy and Faith on the other.
“Now a funny one!” Ashley yelled, and we all made silly faces, pointing at the movie poster of Ivy and Deacon looking skeptically at each other from across a bamboo hedge, the movie title written in giant letters across their midsections:Crocodile Tears.
