“When do you fly back?”
“Sunday night.” Her eyes lit up and I cringed with guilt. I knew I wouldn’t get to hang out with her. “Matt is flying in tomorrow. We’re going to spend the weekend.”
Her face went blank, but I knew a thousand questions were gathering in her head. “So, it’s serious between you two?”
I angled the flashlight on my camera onto the menu. “I like him.”
“You ever worry that a relationship with him would be all one way? All about him and his dreams and aspirations?”
It’d never felt that way. Matt never acted like a star with me. “I don’t think so. That’s not really who he is. He was so excited about my meeting today. And he’s flying in to New York especially to see me.”
She smiled. “I’m glad. I really am. I heard he broke up with Audrey.”
“You know that was a fake relationship, right?”
She leaned forward. “Yes. But does that mean you two are going to be together officially?”
A sharp tug in my stomach drew my attention from the menu. “He wants us to be. But I don’t want my picture flashed across the tabloids.” There was no way I could handle the scrutiny.
“But it’s not like you’re just sleeping together—you’ve been dating a while now. And you’re not going to be naked. Isn’t he worth it?”
“It isn’t a question of him not being worth it.” My feelings for Matt grew every time we spoke and exploded every time we were together. I was getting dangerously close to loving him. And I didn’t want to lose myself and make another bad decision. “I just don’t want the scrutiny.”
“So don’t be the couple who calls the paparazzi every time you go out for coffee. You don’t even have to be the couple that does the red-carpet thing together.”
“Maybe it’s best if he does another contract with another girl,” I said, settling on my next cocktail and placing the menu down. “He’s having talks with an actress at the moment.” Matt hadn’t mentioned how his meeting with his potential new official girlfriend had gone. And I hadn’t asked. It would take the pressure off me if he was publicly with someone else.
“Wait, you want him to pretend to date someone while he’s really dating you?”
“He had this sort of arrangement with Audrey, and it worked.”
“But that was before you came along. Do you really want to see pictures of him gazing at another woman on the red carpet when it should be you?”
I folded my black cocktail napkin in half. Of course I didn’t want that. But I understood that Matt couldn’t be publicly single for too long. “It’s no big deal. And it means I can keep my privacy.”
“You don’t think he’ll start to believe you don’t care enough to commit to him?”
I’d never considered the possibility that he’d view my desire for privacy as a reflection of my feelings for him. “He knows how I feel.” Right? I’d flown out to LA and London. That showed him that I cared, surely?
“So, what? He just dates someone else fake until what? You two break up? It’s not like he’s going to suddenly stop being famous.”
I winced. “Who said anything about breaking up?” I’d never felt this way about anyone before Matt. I certainly didn’t want things to end between us.
“Well, if you can’t be seen in public together, surely the stopwatch is running down on your relationship. I’m not judging.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “If you want to keep things casual between the two of you, then good for you. Do that. But if you want something more, you might have to give something up.”
“I didn’t say things were casual.” Was I kidding myself? Were we just treading water before things ended between us?
“But you’re not prepared to go out in public with him?”
“Are you saying you’d be okay with having your face in every hair salon in America?”
“Absolutely.”
“Are you serious? You don’t care about people knowing your business? About giving up all of your privacy?”
“I grew up in Worthington, Maine, just like you did. How much privacy do you really have? Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“Yeah, but at least you know theirs, too. The people in Worthington care about each other. They’re just not flicking through the pages of US Weekly looking for salacious details of the last celebrity breakup.”
“But who cares what strangers think? As long as you know who you are and you know who Matt is, why do you give a shit about anyone else?”
I stirred the ice cubes left in my drink with my black cocktail straw. Ruby made it sound so straightforward. Like there was a button I could press with white writing on it that said, “I don’t care what people think.” But there was no button, and I didn’t know how to just stop caring.
“I’m just trying to say you need to decide how much you like Matt. If he’s worth making some sacrifices for.”
I could compromise on a lot of things. I could travel to LA or wherever he was in the world. I could spend less time in the shop. But inviting the press into my life, giving up the anonymity I’d worked so hard to establish was such a huge sacrifice. Was that what was required?
“I get that what happened in college really fucked you over, I really do. But are you going to let your asshole ex stop you from doing what you want, with who you want, your whole life? Doesn’t that give him way more power than he deserves? Why not live your life and ignore the things that don’t matter?”
It felt as if Ruby was handing me one good reason after another for going public with Matt. And my arguments for keeping our relationship a secret were collapsing under the strain.
“I don’t want you to lose something amazing because you’re too scared to try again,” she said.
“Losing? Why do you keep talking about losing Matt?”
“I’m just saying that wanting to stay hidden makes things complicated. It adds a layer of pressure. On both of you and the relationship. And it seems temporary. To me and, I imagine, to him also.”
I’d just been living moment to moment with Matt. I tried not to think beyond the next time we’d see each other. But the thought that our weekend in New York could be the last time we had together, that his patience might be wearing thin, made my palms sweaty.
“It’s not temporary. Not for me. And I don’t want to lose him.” I tipped back my empty glass, swallowing the last few drops of bitterness that came from the mint stalk. I needed to talk to Matt. I couldn’t lose him. The realization that it might be a real possibility came crashing down around me.
Only one question really mattered. Was losing Matt worse than losing my privacy? And the answer was yes. Much worse.
I wanted him more than I wanted to hide. And I needed to tell him.
Twenty-Two
Matt
“The wallpaper looks like it’s spun gold,” Lana said, glancing around the hotel room. “And the number of chairs, even in the bedroom? We could invite most of Worthington over and they’d all have a place to sit.”