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“It’s not gone yet,” Raj mutters, but even he looks less panicked than usual.

“It's progress,” Wren says.

Bailey, the content and social media head, claps her hands. “The Silver Fox hashtag has over a hundred thousand posts. Woo! I guess people love a good mystery man.”

“Especially when that man turns out to be Jen Langston’s hot father,” Ava winks.

“Wonderful,” I say. “Just what I've always wanted.”

Wren's laugh catches me off guard. It's genuine and bright, and I find myself smiling.

“You two have a fan club now, by the way.”

Everyone in the room bursts into laughter.

I turn to Talia in disbelief. “What?”

“Well yes,” Bailey says, showing us a group page. “Your ship name is Wrenan and your fandom name is WrenanHearts.”

“Aww.” Ava laughs. “How sweet. I love it.”

I smirk. “What sort of name is WrenanHearts?”

“This is hilarious but I think it’s kind of cute,” Wren says, holding back a laugh at the look on my face.

“Right. Wrenan is kind of original. I’d have rolled my eyes if they came up with something like SeanWren or Serenators. Those are so overused.”

I shake my head at Raj’s approval. “Well, if Raj is feeling positive about it. I guess I shouldn't complain.”

The next days blur together. Going out in public with Wren. Standing close enough to feel the warmth of her skin without touching. Learning the exact smile that suggests intimacy without promising it.

Today, I'm meeting Jen for lunch. She’s been out of town since the news of our romance broke and we’ve not spoken about it much. She’s played it cool in public, sidestepping questions with vigorous media training drilled into her. I owe her an explanation before she storms Wren's office demanding answers.

“You're late,” Jen says when I slide into the booth across from her. Our favorite diner in L.A. hasn't changed in fifteen years. Same cracked leather seats. Same faded menus.

“Traffic.”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “Busy schedule being America's newest heartthrob?”

“Please don't.”

“Dad, what are you doing?” Her eyes search my face. My daughter always could see right through me.

“My job.”

“Oh? Dating your client is your job now? Interesting.”

“We're not dating.”

“Could've fooled me. And the entire internet.”

The waitress brings coffee without us asking. We've been coming here that long.

“It's a strategy,” I explain. “We didn’t plan this at first like you know. We got caught in a vulnerable moment.”

“It was a forehead kiss.”

“Yes, why don't you ask the media and the general public why they made an uproar over a forehead kiss in the first place.”