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Except when I look at her, I do.

I know exactly what it is. It’s her. She’s love. She’s everything I never knew was possible. Everything I never dreamed of or even wanted. Keegan Fritz is undeniably unexpected, and I can’t get enough of her. She’s one of the best parts of my day and the serenity of my night. And getting the chance to love her in return…

“I think sometimes we have parents so we can learn what we want to be and what we don’t and how to do it better.”

She completely misreads my reaction. But she’s not wrong, and her words hit yet another soft, vulnerable note within me. Christ. I’m having a bloody existential crisis at lunch in front of my son and my fake girlfriend. Mercifully our food is set before us, and I take the liberty of setting Fen back in his highchair and cutting up all of his food into tiny finger pieces. He doesn’t wait to start shoveling it in his mouth.

“Slow down there, lad. Let’s not have you choking next.”

We fall into a companionable silence as we eat, the food excellent and the day perfect. That is until something catches my eye, and I freeze.

“What is it?” Keegan asks, immediately alert to the change in my posture.

“Don’t turn around,” I say quietly. “Someone’s taking photos. It’s the table near the gate, blue shirt.”

She doesn’t turn, doesn’t make any obvious reaction, but I see her body shift slightly, angling to block Fen from view. One hand comes up to cradle the back of his head, pressing him gently against her shoulder. The movement is so natural, so protective, that my throat tightens.

“Should we go?” she asks, her voice level.

“Not yet. It might just be a fan snapping a picture.” I take a deliberate bite of my sandwich, though it tastes like nothing now. “Let me see if it’s random or if there are others.”

I scan the restaurant carefully, trying to look casual. There, by the potted palms, a bloke with his phone pointed right at me. Shit. And near the bar inside, a woman is speaking into her cell while staring directly at us. They’ve found us. Somehow, they’ve found us.

“We should go,” I hiss under my breath and signal for the check, more abruptly than I’d like.

Keegan nods. “We were pretty much done anyway. Here,” she offers, passing Fen to me before I can protest, though he certainly does, as he does not enjoy being dragged from a meal, even one he’s mostly finished. “I’ll get our things together while you pay and put him in his stroller. Less suspicious that way.”

I take Fen, who scowls until I make a silly face, and then he stares up at me with that forever smile he never seems to lose for long. I wish I knew his trick. I turn him slightly, positioning my body between him and the cameras.

Keegan gathers her bag and Fen’s diaper satchel with unhurried movements. Her face betrays nothing, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. She doesn’t like being photographed, and she doesn’t want her face all over tabloids, and that’s exactly what I’ve done to her. When the waitress returns with the card reader, Keegan engages her in friendly conversation about local beaches, creating a shield of casual normalcy around our abrupt departure.

I’m watching Keegan, marveling at her instinctive understanding of what’s needed and how she’s caring for us without thought or hesitation. And now there’s no denying it. No more shock. With the startling clarity of stepping from shadow into light, I’ve fallen in love with her. Not the overwhelming attraction I’ve acknowledged these past days with her, but something deeper and more terrifying.

I’m in love with Keegan Fritz.

The woman who makes my son laugh and calls me on my bullshit and is now calmly creating a diversion so we can escape the press without drama. The realization sits in my chest like an anchor, weighty and secure. How did this happen so… fast, so out of control, so potentially destructive to all that I am? Or maybe the better question is, how did I resist for as long as I did?

“Ready?” she asks, turning back to me, her face composed except for the slight crease between her eyebrows.

“Yes.” My voice sounds strange to my own ears. I clear my throat. “I have no bloody clue where we are.”

She smiles. “We’ll find our way. It’s just pictures anyway.”

It’s true. It’s not the biggest deal in the world. Still, I wanted time with her and Fen. Time to be normal. Time to be us. Maybe that’s a ridiculous, archaic notion for me now and I simply have to adjust and get used to it.

We make our way through the restaurant’s back garden, Keegan a half-step behind me. Her hand meets the small of myback as we navigate between tables. The cameras follow us. I can sense them without having to look, but we move quickly enough that hopefully they won’t get anything usable.

“Could have been worse. Better here than on the island.” She kisses my cheek, and something unspools in my chest. A tension I’ve carried for so long I’d forgotten it wasn’t a natural part of me. “Besides,” she adds with a small smile, “we knew what we were getting into coming out in public. Hollywood’s most notorious bad boy with his son and fake girlfriend.”

I choose to push past the fake part. “I’ll have you know my notoriety is vastly exaggerated.”

“So you claim.” She pushes the gate open and steps through. “But I’ve seen it firsthand and can attest to it. Besides, I like the bad boy.”

Without thinking, I hold out my hand to her. It’s a simple gesture. But in this moment, it feels monumental. I catch a hint of a frown when she realizes what I’m doing. She thinks this is part of the ruse. The fake relationship. Only nothing has been more real than being with her.

After a beat she takes it, and with Fen secure in his pushchair, we meander back onto the narrow sidewalk. Behind us, I hear the click of at least one camera capturing the moment. For once, I don’t mind. I want everyone to see that she’s mine and I’m hers.

And for the first time in my life, I get this feeling. One that says,you could have this, and it could be perfect. If you don’t fuck it up.