Page 75 of Fourth and Long

His eyes widen. “No. I mean, yes. They can remain outside. We just wanted to…um…inform you of their presence.”

“Thank you.” I smile, even though he hasn’t imparted cheerful news. I anticipated the possibility I might be recognized, but not that I’d attract actual photographers.

Franz lingers at our table.

“Was there something else?” I ask, still not taking the bite.

Normally, this is when a person asks for an autograph. Instead of doing that, he takes a deep, dramatic breath. “I wanted to apologize on behalf of the restaurant. Our employees ought to know better. Your meal has been taken care of. Please let us know if there is anything else we can do for you.”

With those enigmatic words, he turns and hustles out of sight.

Ellie wrinkles her nose. “What did he mean by that?”

A sinking feeling hits me right in the gut. There’s only one possible reason for his apology. He must know why there are photographers lingering outside the restaurant.

I pull out my phone, something I don’t usually do on a date. It takes about five seconds for me to find it.

Slater Jones out for dinner and drinks with an unknown lady. Who is this NEW girl?

What about Amber?!? @SlaterJonesQB #Slaterwatch

The picture of me with Ellie was taken before we even sat down at our table. My hand rests on the small of her back. It’s less intimate looking than the pictures of me with Amber, which proves that sometimes a picture is not worth a thousand words.

I assume the photo came from someone who works at the restaurant. Why else would Franz apologize? It isn’t a big deal, and yet, I hate that it interrupted my last night with Ellie.

I pass my phone across the table for her to see.

Her eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t look upset. “You can’t hope to stay under the radar forever, especially without your disguise.”

I shaved and put on a suit tonight, so I look like the man the public expects to see.

“Did you read the caption?” I ask, surprised by her calm response.

“Unknown lady.” She snorts. “My five minutes of fame and I don’t even get a name.”

“You aren’t mad.” Her response confuses me. I’ve been assuming she doesn’t want to be spotted with me.

She shrugs. “It’s fine. You told me that staying hidden in your apartment is the only way you can guarantee privacy. I knew this was a possibility when I agreed to have dinner. No one knows who I am. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m a normal girl.”

She sure loves the normal girl bit. “What do you mean?”

She looks at me like I’m missing an important piece of the puzzle, and then she points at me. “Slater Jones.” She points at herself. “Unknown woman.”

“I could have Judy release your name in a statement if you want.”

She rolls her eyes. “Unnecessary. We’re having dinner. You’re leaving tomorrow. Who knows when I’ll see you again.”

My shoulders droop as her words hit me. She said it—the thing we’re not acknowledging—like it’s no big deal. Like it doesn’t matter to her that she won’t see me for days, weeks, months.

Is it hot in here? I tug on my collar and take a shallow breath.

I look across the table and her eyes crinkle as she takes a drink of water. Is she trying to assure me that everything is fine? I try to smile. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted us to have a pleasant dinner.”

“We are. Stop stressing.”

“I’m surprised you’re so calm.”

She shrugs in a way that tells me absolutely nothing.