stop and deal with the kids, sign autographs, and take pictures. But then Brandon was far more experienced at this, and the crowds he could draw in a very short time would make her night at Sardi’s look like a quiet affair. They held hands, staying fifteen yards ahead of the kids, but the commotion they caused was drawing other people into the chase.
“We’re a parade,” she smiled at him, yelling so he could hear her above the shouts from behind.
“Always.” He picked up their pace, and as he ran he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called their driver. “Same place, five minutes,” he told him.
Whether one of the kids called the news or flashed the information on Twitter, they would never know, but by the time they passed the pond, more than a hundred people ran after them, and a host of paparazzi jumped out from a cropping of bushes and began snapping pictures.
“Keep running.” Brandon didn’t seem upset, just determined.
Bailey was glad she was in shape. They’d already run for a few minutes.
“Don’t worry about the pictures. There’s no way around them.”
She had been with Brandon at premieres where she wondered if she’d ever seen so many flashes or heard so many cameras clicking. But a red carpet event was supposed to be like that. Here … with a couple dozen cameramen snapping rapid-fire shots as they ran toward them, Bailey could only imagine the pictures they were getting.
The paparazzi continued to shoot as they ran up and passed them, and then they joined the throng of people still chasing them. They reached the drop-off spot and there was the driver, the back door already open. He saluted Brandon as they ran up, and like a scene from a movie Brandon and Bailey jumped into the car and the driver slammed the door shut.
“Wow …” Brandon was breathing hard, but still able to laugh. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“I did.” Bailey doubled over, laughing and trying to catch her breath at the same time. “There was nothing I could do. Not enough time.”
“There never is.” He leaned back against the seat, his arms sprawled out at either side like he was exhausted. He turned his head and grinned at her. “Okay … so we got through that, right?”
“We did.” She turned sideways and laughed again. “It’s crazy … like what are people thinking? They’ll catch us and then what … tackle us to the ground? Force you out for a cup of coffee?” She exhaled, her heartbeat almost back to normal.
“You’re not freaked out?”
“No.” She was a little, but she didn’t want to say so. They’d survived it, right? “It was a onetime thing. Compared to all the hours we’ve had in the city, I guess it isn’t so bad.”
Brandon winced. “Except one thing … now they know we’re a couple.” He was quick to correct himself. “What I mean is … we starred in a movie together, and now we’re holding hands in Central Park months after the movie hits theaters.” He nodded, his expression resigned. “They’ll think we’re a couple for sure.”
“Which means …” Bailey thought she understood where he was headed with this. “We’ll have less of a chance hiding next time we check out the mongoose pups?”
“Exactly.”
Bailey wasn’t sure what to say. She appreciated that Brandon had a plan, that he’d arranged for the driver to be nearby in case something like this happened. She could live with this if she had to, right? If that’s where God was leading them? They fell quiet then, and Brandon reached for her hand. Once their fingers were together, Bailey’s questions fell away. She could tolerate any amount of paparazzi or wild fans if it meant being with him.
She had never been more sure.
Twenty-Seven
PAPARAZZI FOLLOWED THEM TO BAILEY’S APARTMENT, BUT Brandon caught the eye of the doorman, and whisked Bailey inside before the photographers could take more than a few pictures. They took the stairs to the second floor and the elevator the rest of the way, and Bailey tried to imagine the pictures in the tabloids over the coming week. “I’m sure they’ll have a field day with the one of us running into my apartment.”
“Probably.” He looked intently at her, the way he might if she were sick or if she’d had an accident of some kind. “But you’re okay? You’re not going to hold it against me, right?”
“Brandon …” They were in the elevator, and she put her hand on his