We’ve been so consumed by worry and security issues that I haven’t had a chance to see what she’s like when life isn’t upside down. I know there’s another side to her, though. I can see it in her eyes.
I just hope I have the chance to get to know it.
She carries the tray out to the front of the bakery, and I follow her out with another. As soon as we step out into the main cafe area, phones and cameras are trained on Margot. She puts the tray of baked goods down and smiles at the assembled crowd, reaching over to sign some autographs.
I shrink away, dropping the fresh pastries on the counter and heading back to the safety of the kitchen. I glance through the little round window at Margot as she plasters a smile on her face.
I’m starting to get to know her smiles. There’s the polite smile that she uses for fans and interviews. That’s the smile I see most. There’s the sad smile that I see second most often. Sometimes it turns into a bitter grimace, and sometimes it fades away completely.
Only once or twice have I seen her really smile.
It makes me want to climb into her brain and clean all the cobwebs away. I want to know why she’s troubled, and carry those burdens for her. I want her to laugh and smile genuinely all the time.
Most importantly, I want her to do those things with me. By my side. Always.
I watch her take selfies with fans, sign autographs, and just be the celebrity that she’s always been. She acts with grace and professionalism, but I can see in the curve of her shoulders that she’s tired.
Meanwhile, I stare through the window in the door as my heart races, afraid to step back out in case a camera flashes in my face.
Like a coward.
How can she be so comfortable with so many people clamoring for her attention? How can she smile as dozens of cameras are pointed at her? How does she not feel like a caged animal?
Turning away from the window, I lean against the bakery wall. For the first time since I spoke to Luca last night, I’m seriously regretting my decision to go out in public with him. I don’t know if I can handle that kind of attention. Doing what Margot is doing right now is my personal idea of hell.
The door swings open and Margot appears, letting out a deep breath as she puts a hand to her forehead.
“That was intense,” she sighs.
“How do you do it?”
Margot glances at me, arching an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“Deal with that many people screaming for you. It wasn’t even that many—maybe a couple of dozen? The thought of being out there, in front of that many people and that many cameras…it makes me want to throw up.”
Margot flashes a smile at me. A real one. “You want to know the truth?”
I nod.
“Makes me want to throw up, too.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Somehow I don’t really believe that.”
She shrugs, turning away from me. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be the truth. Lots of people think lots of things about me that have nothing to do with the truth.”
Once again, I realize I don’t know Margot LeBlanc at all. I have an image of her in my head, a vision of who she is and what she wants—but I don’t know what she really thinks.
The only thing I know for sure is that there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye.
“Can you give me a hand with the trays? Ivy needs more salted caramel cupcakes already.” Margot nods to the walk-in fridge.
I follow her in, trying not to stare at the sway of her ass. She points to one of the trays, reaching for the edge.
“Lots of people think I love public appearances just because I’m good at them. I’ve been doing this since I was twelve years old, Your Highness,” Margot says, glancing at me. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“So, why do you do it?”
Margot shrugs. “It’s my job.”
“You could always walk away from it if you don’t like it. I did.”
Her shoulders drop, and I take a step closer to her. Gently, with my hand on her hip, I turn her to face me. She drags her eyes up to mine and I watch her blink mist out of her eyes, shaking her head as she takes a deep breath.