Chapter Four
Hayden
The midday sun felt unrelenting as I slipped behind the main festival tent, hoping for just a moment of solitude before my scheduled lecture. My head spun from the constant barrage of sponsor demands, autograph lines, and polite applause. Usually, I’d welcome a chance to discuss plant propagation with eager listeners, but the weight of publicity obligations drained me. Leaning against a support post, I pulled out my phone, fighting the swirl of tension rising in my chest.
Right on cue, my phone buzzed—the publisher again. My jaw tightened. After a quick glance around to ensure no one hovered nearby, I answered, bracing myself for a fresh wave of instructions.
“Hayden? Finally caught you,” came the clipped tone of Marlene. “Glad you picked up. We have a new development that might interest you.”
“I’m listening,” I said, forcing myself to sound calm. A dull ache throbbed at my temples, leftover from the morning’s sponsor meet-and-greet. They’d wanted me to pose holding a giant potted fern while two local luminaries flanked me, plastering big smiles for the cameras. My face already felt stiff from forced grins.
Marlene wasted no time. “We’ve arranged an exciting opportunity—Ariana St. James’s management wants to collaborate with you on a special demonstration. She’s rumored to be in serious talks for her own lifestyle TV show. Apparently, the producers want a scientific angle alongside her flair for beauty. They see you as the perfect partner.”
I swallowed a groan. Ariana’s presence made me uneasy. It was clear the woman craved attention, something I detested. “What would that even entail?” I asked warily.
“A kind of…synergy,” Marlene continued in that bright, unstoppable tone. “The producers propose a public demonstration at the festival—some combined arrangement or greenhouse tips. This is more than a cameo, mind you. If you two click on camera, it could pave the way for you to be featured on her upcoming show. The sponsor behind the series is pushing a big budget, which means huge exposure for your brand.”
I set my jaw, recalling how I’d spent the past months trying to distance myself from performing like a show pony. “I’m not sure. Ariana’s style is pretty different from mine. I focus on sustainable gardening methods. She’s all about catering to the rich and famous, right?”
Marlene chuckled, ignoring the tension in my voice. “That’s exactly why it’s a perfect match—opposites attract. The sponsor wants to play up your horticulture credibility and Ariana’s star power. You two become the talk of the festival. Everyone wins.”
“Except I’m not exactly comfortable faking a relationship for publicity,” I said quietly, scanning the busy grounds from my spot behind the tent. Rows of bright booths lined the field, visitors milling between them. A small patch of daisies fluttered in the breeze, prompting a flicker of memory about Daisy Parker. In the distance, a cheerful voice announced the next round of demos. “This might come off as dishonest to the audience.”
Marlene’s tone shifted to something more insistent. “This is how the entertainment world works, Hayden. If you want to pivot from YouTube to mainstream, you’ll need bigger audience appeal. Ariana St. James is your ticket. Also, they’re floating the idea of a… well, a romantic angle to generate buzz. Sort of a ‘fake date’ scenario—like a storyline, if you will. You wouldn’t have to actually date her, just give the impression. Cozy photos, subtle hints, that sort of thing.”
My stomach twisted. “A fake date?” I repeated, struggling to keep my voice even. The notion disgusted me; the idea of staged romance for cameras felt disingenuous. And if Daisy saw that… She’d misunderstand everything. My chest tightened with guilt, flashing back to the fleeting moments she and I had shared only yesterday. We’d agreed on professionalism, but it didn’t mean I wanted her seeing me draped over Ariana for a publicity stunt. “I’m not sure about that, Marlene,” I said, picking my words carefully.
“The sponsor’s excited,” she insisted, as though that alone should solve my doubts. “They’re affiliated with the network, and they’ve hinted at offering a robust extension deal for your book series, maybe leading to you co-hosting short segments on Ariana’s potential show. Look, it’s beneficial for your long-term career. I’m only trying to tell you what’s in your best interest.”
I massaged the tension building at my temples. “I get the logic, but I’m uncomfortable faking a romantic link just to sell more books. That’s not me.”
Marlene sighed, the line crackling. “This is the big leagues, Hayden. Think carefully. I’ll email you the details. This is a significant opportunity. Let’s not dismiss it outright.”
I closed my eyes, recalling Daisy’s face when we’d run into each other at the supply tent. She’d been so earnest about her own challenges. We had an unspoken bond from our past encounter, and the last thing I wanted was to bury that under contrived show business. But the hush from Marlene pressed on me, reminding me that this was my chance to break out in the industry. “Email me,” I finally muttered. “But I won’t promise anything.”
“Fair enough,” she replied, evidently placated for the moment. “Keep in mind Ariana or her manager might approach you about this. Just be polite, okay?”
I let out a low, humorless laugh. “I’ll be polite, sure.” After a few more empty pleasantries, I ended the call, slipping the phone into my pocket. Pushing away from the post, I forced my shoulders to relax, exhaling slowly. The market bustled on the other side of the tent, and I needed to face the world again. Focus on your next lecture. The first session started in less than an hour—a talk on sustainable fertilizer. That, at least, I could do wholeheartedly.
I powered through my talk with my usual comfort in front of a scientific audience. Discussing soil composition, worm castings, and eco-friendly pest deterrents energized me. People asked thoughtful questions, took notes, and nodded eagerly at my suggestions. A few self-published copies of my book sold at the table, the modest line forming near a sponsor’s booth. I should’ve felt triumphant, but I couldn’t get the proposal from Marlene out of my head. Fake synergy with Ariana— just the idea made me cringe.
After the session ended, I took a moment at the side of the stage to drink some water and gather my scattered notes. The sponsor—a sharp-suited man named Benton McBride—sidled up, offering me a beaming grin. “Fantastic talk, Hayden! The crowd loved you. And Ariana’s lecture is tomorrow, so we were thinking of pairing you two for a photo op soon.”
My throat tightened. “Yeah, I heard something about that.” I tried to keep my tone noncommittal. “We’ll see.”
Benton’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t be shy. Actually, I believe Ariana’s waiting outside. Let’s head that way?” He gestured for me to follow, leaving little room for polite refusal. My chest sank, but I nodded, letting him lead me out of the lecture tent. I guess I have to face her now.
Sure enough, Ariana stood under a colorful canopy. She’d changed into a sleek white dress, blonde hair swept into a complicated updo that showcased diamond-stud earrings that probably cost more than my entire savings. The sunlight caught subtle shimmer in her makeup, turning her into a real-life magazine cover. Ariana’s gaze landed on me.
“Hayden, darling,” she cooed, stepping forward to place a hand on my arm. “I’m so glad we finally get a chance to chat without rushing. The producers are interested in having us do a joint demonstration for the cameras. Doesn’t that sound fabulous?”
I forced a thin smile, ignoring the chill creeping down my spine. “I heard. My publisher mentioned it this morning.” Benton hovered beside us, nodding approvingly. A handful of staff lingered with cameras at the ready. Clearly, this was no casual encounter but a planned PR moment.
“Great!” Ariana gave a delighted little laugh. “I propose we do a short photo op now—like a teaser for tomorrow’s presentation. Then maybe we can discuss details over dinner?”
I swallowed, scanning the crowd for a potential escape route, but none leapt out at me. My eyes flicked across the grounds, briefly landing on Daisy’s booth. She was adjusting a brilliant array of tulips, but as if sensing me, she looked up. Our gazes locked for an instant—a potent moment where I willed her to understand I was stuck in a scenario I didn’t choose. Then Ariana tugged on my sleeve, stepping in closer.
Benton clapped. “Perfect. We’ll do a quick shot of Ariana leaning on your shoulder, you pointing at a potted plant, something that screams ‘Horticulture’s Power Couple.’ Sound good?”
My stomach churned, but Ariana had already looped her arm through mine, flashing her pageant smile at the staffers with cameras. “Yes, yes, let’s do it,” she said, voice bright. Instinct compelled me to give a polite nod, though inside I cringed. I hate everything about this. The cameras clicked, Ariana leaning her head near mine as if we’d been dating for months, her fragrance somewhat cloying. I forced a civil expression—this was the promoter’s event, after all, and they’d funded part of my travel. Just a few pictures. Then I can slip away.
Yet the moment dragged on as Benton suggested we face another angle, a different pose, pausing while Ariana touched up her makeup. I glanced across the field, feeling exposed. Don’t let Daisy see this. But as if conjured by my dread, there she was, a short distance away, her wide eyes locked on us. The flicker of disappointment that flashed across her features sliced through me like a blade. She turned swiftly, heading back toward her booth. My chest tightened with guilt, imagining how it must look,
“Wonderful shots,” Benton announced as the photographers lowered their cameras. “We’ll forward them to your publisher, Hayden. This collaboration is going to spark big interest. Maybe you two can confirm tomorrow’s demonstration times?”
Ariana lightly patted my chest. “Hayden, darling, let’s finalize details soon, yes?” She parted her lips in a triumphant smile, as though thoroughly pleased with her own performance.
“Sure,” I murmured. “Let’s talk schedule.” My voice sounded hollow to my own ears. Internally, I burned with frustration. I never agreed to be part of a ‘power couple’ narrative. Benton was still beaming, evidently thrilled to have captured the perfect shot. Ariana waved at onlookers, then pivoted with an insincere farewell, the skirt of her white dress swirling around her legs.
I took the first opportunity to slip away, forging a path through the crowd toward a quieter corner by a cluster of ornamental shrubs. My head pounded. Daisy definitely noticed. She must think I’m happily letting Ariana cling to me. Anger at the forced scenario coalesced with a yearning to explain everything to Daisy. This is just business bull, not my choice.
As I paused behind a tall floral sculpture, I glimpsed Daisy across the lawn. She was standing behind her table, meticulously rearranging some delicate vines. But her shoulders looked tense, jaw set. She chanced one more glance in my direction, and I caught her eyes. She shook her head slightly, a frown tugging at her lips, then turned away. My chest squeezed.
I’ve messed up without even trying. The sponsor’s demands had put me in Ariana’s spotlight, and Daisy evidently believed I was embracing it. My knees felt weak as regret hammered my heart. It shouldn’t matter this much; Daisy and I had agreed to keep things casual. Yet seeing her crestfallen face threatened to unravel me. What if I can’t salvage this? For a year I’d harbored memories of our one night, wanting to know who she really was. Now, under the public eye, I was inadvertently pushing her away. Clenching my fists, I vowed to fix the misunderstanding somehow—because I couldn’t bear the notion of letting Daisy slip away a second time.