and started getting pickier about who I spent time with.”
I feel someone staring and turn to see Harper just behind the living room set. She whirls and runs into Joe, who’s standing behind her. She’s not used to having a bodyguard. I can see her blush from here as she says something to him and dashes out of sight behind a long wall of hallway. Joe follows.
Maybe I should go to more of these tapings. If nothing else, she’s immensely entertaining.
Yeah, that’s the reason.
3
Garrett
The next morning, Saturday, I take a shower after my usual run, get dressed, and flop down on the sofa to check my phone for messages. My heart kicks up speed. Harper texted me late last night after I shut my phone off. A bunch of texts, actually. She must’ve gotten my number from Josie. I always work out in the morning before checking in with the world, so this is all news to me. Holy shit.
Harper: A reporter surprised me outside my apartment building, asking me about Colton and his new lover. I panicked and said we mutually decided to see other people and I was glad I met you.
I said your whole name. It just came out. I’m so sorry. Not cool.
I feel terrible.
There’s going to be press about it. Just ignore it, okay? My publicist will make it all go away.
Sorry.
I stare at the screen, unsure how to respond. While I’m sitting there trying to figure out what this all means, Sean texts me. Sly dog. You said you weren’t following up with Harper.
There’s a link to an article. It’s one of those gossip entertainment sites, and there’s a large picture of Harper and Colton with a jagged split down the middle. Right next to it is Colton with his arm around another woman, a beautiful petite blonde. The article goes on and on about how the perfect Hollywood couple are now through because of a stronger love between Colton and his new costar, Taylor. I skim the article, searching for my part in this. Finally, I find it, in a quote from Harper: “I’m doing okay. We mutually decided to see other people a few weeks back, and I’m very happy I met Garrett Rourke.”
I set the phone down on the coffee table and stare blankly for a moment. She dragged my name into it without asking me ahead of time. That’s bad.
I stand and pace the living room. On the other hand, she apologized, and she only said she was happy she met me. She didn’t say we were a thing.
But it was implied, wasn’t it?
I stop in front of the ugly piece of modern art on the wall that I somehow got stuck with and glare at it. This piece of “art”—purple and red scribbles with a yellow dot in the center—belongs to my brother Connor, who left it behind. He won’t let me throw it out because our brother Jack gave it to him as a birthday present, and he won’t take it with him because Con’s wife says it doesn’t go with their decor. Now I’m saddled with it. I take it off the wall and turn it around.
Back to pacing. Maybe it’s flattering that Harper mentioned me. Maybe she truly is happy she met me. This could be an opportunity. Did fate intervene, tying us together?
I’m grasping at straws. I grab my phone and text her back. Just got your texts. Thanks for the heads-up.
Harper: Really sorry. Are you mad?
I think for a moment. I want her too much to be mad, and what does that say about me? This is such a bizarre situation. I’ve only been mentioned in an article once before when my oldest brother, Dylan, got married in Villroy. It was the first time our family had a wedding in the kingdom after my dad’s banishment, so it was big news. The reconciliation between the Villroy Rourkes and the Brooklyn Rourkes is relatively new.
I text back. I’m fine.
I need to talk to Josie before I pursue anything further with Harper. Josie’s an excellent judge of people, she knows how the industry and the press machine works, and she’ll be straight with me. I text her, and she promptly invites me for dinner, which I accept.
I take a seat on the sofa and decide to do a little investigating. I tap over to Google on my phone and type my name to see how far this thing with Harper traveled. I let out a low