Page 13 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

“Yeah. I mean, my sister and I only went to our dad’s house every other weekend, so we had Shep most of the time.

He was there when I was a toddler, he helped me with homework and taught me how to drive .

. . He wasn’t really ‘step’ anything. He was just present.

But yes. He follows all of my social media accounts, so he’s very privy to what’s happening here. ”

“Here. You mean, you and me?”

Willow nodded. “And he’s definitely on my side.”

I grinned as we neared the entrance to the festival. “I’ll change his mind.”

“He says you need to cut back on the protein powder, creatine, and gym selfies,” she clipped.

And just like that, my favorite ball-buster was back.

I held her close as we squeezed through the body-to-body pileup at the start of the festival. “Does he think that, or do you think that?”

Out of the corner of my eye, Willow pursed her lips.

“Busted,” I teased. “What does Step Shep actually think about me?”

“Conceited much?”

“Hey, if he’s one of your people, he’s one of my people too. I’ve got Wander on my side. I think Whitney’s on the fence. I think her bodyguard wanted to use me for target practice.” I nudged her with my shoulder. “Tell me where I stand with Step Shep.”

Willow let out an exasperated sigh. “He thinks this little . . . situation could be good for me.”

“Really,” I said, drawing the word out.

“Don’t let it go to your head. He just wants me to start dating again. But he did say you need to cut down on the creatine.”

The crowd parted into two sides as people lined up in front of rows of food trucks and vendors. Willow paused and looked at the options. “Where do we start?”

My kind of woman.

We reconvened under a tree, armed with gyros, Chinese oil sticks, samosas, miniature lobster rolls, a mango lassi to share, and a giant bag of cotton candy.

“Really?” Willow said when I popped open the bright pink cotton candy first.

I grinned. “What can I say? I’ve had a craving for the last week.”

She rolled her eyes and downed one of the samosas, doing a little wiggle where she sat on the grass.

“Good?” I asked before taking a bite of the oil stick.

Willow nodded. “This is what I love about coming to the city. You can try anything you want. It’s hard to find food like this in most small towns. Not impossible, but the selection is just smaller.” She went for the gyro next, relaxing against the trunk of the tree with her eyes closed.

I rested beside her and licked my fingers clean after the lobster roll. “And when you get tired of it, you can move somewhere new.”

“Exactly.”

“So, where to next?”

Willow peered out of one eye. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Haven’t decided, or you have decided and you’re not going to tell me so I can’t come with you?”

“I like traveling alone.”

“Why’s that?”

When Willow didn’t answer, I didn’t press. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened the camera. Willow immediately wrinkled her nose.

“Humor me, cupcake.”

“Why? So you can post it on your social media pages to make it seem like you’re winning?”

“How about this?” I said as I pulled a pinch of cotton candy from the bag and stuck it in my mouth. “I won’t post a picture of our faces until you do.”

“And what if I never do?”

“Then I won’t either. But in the interest of transparency, I’ll probably post something and tag you in it, so people know this is still happening. I’ve gotten a lot of questions. It’ll satisfy most of the curiosity.”

“I have too,” she admitted, then huffed. “Fine. I get to post faces. You can post . . . I don’t know. Our shoes or something.”

“Deal.” I opened the camera again and had it facing us for a selfie.

“But you said?—”

I tipped my head down to look at her. Our mouths were a breath apart. “I’m not posting it, Wills. I just want it for myself.”

Her body language relaxed, but her eyes were filled with speculation and mistrust.

“Come on. At least pretend you like me,” I said as I looked into the camera.

Willow’s lips were tense as she pursed them into a polite smile.

“Now who looks constipated?” I teased.

That made her laugh. I snapped the picture, then two more when she loosened up.

“I’ll text them to you. I think Step Shep needs a copy.”

Willow groaned. “Step Shep doesn’t need any more reasons to tell me this is a good idea.”

“You know, I think he and I will get along just fine.”

We were practically sitting on top of each other, so I took a chance and snapped another picture as I kissed her temple.

Willow grabbed the last lobster roll and took a bite. Mayonnaise and butter dotted the corners of her mouth.

“Now that’s sexy,” I joked, making her laugh.

I captured that picture too. It was slightly out of focus, but I loved it just the same. I had caught Willow grinning from ear to ear, half-eaten lobster roll in hand, as the sunbeams sliced down through the trees.

We finished eating, then stretched and cleared our things from under the tree.

Willow let me hold her hand again as we headed toward the art vendors. “I travel alone because I got so caught up in trying to find Mr. Right that I forgot about Miss Right-Now,” she said calmly as we stood in front of a row of paintings.

“You stopped living.”

“Something like that,” she said. “I was going out all the time, meeting new people, burning through every dating app out there . . . and I was miserable. I was exhausted. I was depressed. So I quit.”

“And that’s why you left California?”

“I had to fall in love with myself. I wasn’t comfortable being alone with myself because I didn’t love her.” Willow let go of my hand, putting some distance between us as she reached up and tugged her hair free of the elastic holding it in a bun. “And yes, I know how utterly cliché that sounds.”

I watched as she slipped the hairband around her wrist, then ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing down the soft pink waves.

“Do you love her?” I asked.

Willow stood in silent contemplation for a moment. “Yes.”

“Good,” I said as I slid my hand down her arm, stealing the ponytail off her wrist and slipping it onto mine. “Because I can’t wait to fall in love with her too.”