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“Loomis! Keegan!” they cry. “Where’s Fenric? Have you set a date for your wedding yet? Keegan, how do your parents feel about Loomis? What do you have to say to the reports that Tommy is threatening to sue you and the studio?”

That last one almost trips me up, but Tommy can come at me. I’m ready. And tomorrow, I do plan to file a restraining order against him along with a formal complaint. It’s sort of how Vander said, I don’t have a problem bringing someone downwho tried to do the same to me. He had no remorse. Why should I?

It doesn’t stop there. The moment we arrive at my flat, it’s the same rubbish.

I squeeze Keegan’s hand tighter as we push through the sea of photographers. Their cameras click in rapid-fire succession, like insects swarming around a flame. My flame.

“Loomis! Over here!”

“Powell! When’s the wedding?”

“Keegan! How does it feel dating Britain’s sexiest man?”

She snorts out a laugh at that, and I throw her a side-eye even as the questions fly like arrows. I keep my head down, my jaw set, and guide her toward the entrance of my building. I can’t wait to move. A doorman, cameras, and a secure garage sound like heaven.

“Sorry about that,” I murmur once we’re inside the relative quiet of the kitchen.

Keegan squeezes my hand, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “For what? Being famous? I knew what I was signing up for.”

Inside, the streetlights slant through the mostly closed blinds, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. The place is sparsely decorated in that long-term housing sort of way. The air is still and a bit stale, and I regret bringing her here immediately. It makes me glad Fen is staying with Tinsley tonight. Now that I saw the flat, I’m impatient to move in.

“Home crap home,” I say, watching Keegan as she slips off her jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. She moves through my space with easy familiarity, and it wasn’t so long ago that she was here, and we were sharing ugly truths before I made a bad joke about getting married. Now look at us.

She turns to me, twisting a strand of that impossible red hair around her finger. “So, what are your plans for this weekend…”

“This weekend?” I open the fridge and pull out two bottles of water, then hand one to her.

“My family.” She accepts the water but doesn’t drink it. “It’s Sorel’s baby shower, and on top of that, I need to go see my grandparents and my parents. Do you and Fen want to join me?”

I take a swig from my bottle and nod as I do. “Sure. Love to. As long as Fen won’t be in the way.”

“Nah. Willow and Rory will be there.”

“All right then. Though should I be worried about your father or your grandmother for that matter warding you off me?”

“Nah.” She smiles. “They already like you.”

“Because of Tinsley. Not as your man.” I brush my thumb across her cheekbone. “I want them to know I’m serious about you.”

“My grandmother wouldn’t have said what she said earlier if she didn’t already know that, and my dad certainly watched your press conference.”

“You’re a Fritz, Keegan. I’m a mess of a single dad who happens to have some money.”

She shrugs as if she doesn’t care about that. “Do you love me?”

“More than words.”

“Then they’ll be fine.”

I press my forehead against hers. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since... well, maybe ever. You and Fen. You’ve breathed life into me. I was going through the motions, but I don’t think I was living until I met you.”

She smiles then, a slow unfurling that transforms her face. “Aren’t you smooth, Mr. Powell?”

“Not smooth. Just honest.” I kiss her then, slow and deep, my hands sliding down to cup her hips. “And right now, I’m honestly thinking about taking you to bed.”

“Is that so?” Her voice has dropped to that husky register that drives me wild. “And what exactly are you planning to do with me there?”

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