Chapter 16 For The Birds （Brady）
XVI
For The Birds
(Brady)
“Your grandmother likes me. That has to count for something.” I smile at Lena as she ignores me, the wind pushing her loose brown hair from her face.
We’re on our way to Bainbridge Island on the big green-and-white ferry, and the sea breeze stings my cheeks.
“Technically, she’s not my grandmother.”
“Do technicalities matter, Sass?”
She shoots me a disgruntled look, and I laugh, taking her hand.
“What’s your mother up to these days, anyway? Does she visit?”
Her face falls.
“Retired. Mostly. I visit her a few times a year. Port Townsend. It’s a nice little getaway, even if it’s kind of far. After everything that happened, she’s not too fond of revisiting Seattle.”
She’s afraid to show her face here.
That’s what she’s not saying, and I hate that I can read between the lines.
I ease up, bringing the conversation back to Gran. Thankfully, the old woman’s antics spun enough old stories to keep Lena smiling while she tells them.
It’s a light crowd on the ship today, and no one else can hear our conversation, but the appearance is still public. Deliberately staged so people will see us out and about together, knowing a few of those bystanders will pull out their phones and snap not-so-discreet pics.
I want it to look natural.
Experience says Lena doesn’t perform well if she knows there’s an audience, but we also need this to be convincing.
That’s becoming less of a problem by the day.
Hell, after this morning, it’s no problem at all.
“Stop being a prick, and enjoy the breeze.” She twists her hand in mine so our fingers twine.
“I’m just enjoying the fact that Gran called me handsome. And rich. And basically God’s gift to Lena Joly.”
“Careful, dude. If your head gets any bigger, I’ll pop it.”
I pull her in, capturing her against my chest, bringing our laced hands to rest on her waist.
“What were the other compliments again? There were so many, I can’t remember them all.”
“If you like her so much, go fake an engagement,” she says, but she leans her head back against me.
Mindful of any cameras, I nip her ear, feeling her shiver as she giggles.
No more.
Not here, as tempting as it is.
“She is a catch, age difference be damned. Considering her questions, she’s clearly got her head screwed on right.”
“I can’t believe she asked if you were married. Gah.”
“Well, she doesn’t want some crazy wife to come out of the attic and start swinging for your head. You’d be surprised how often it happens in my circles. Guys get greedy and think they’re invincible, only to get their dicks rammed in the door.”
“Like you could get married without the whole world knowing.” She huffs a breath.
The thought claws at my chest, though I don’t know why.
She’s not wrong about the attention lavished on my dumb ass. That’s the entire point of this whole sham, after all.
Even if I tried some low-key courthouse wedding or eloping to Nepal, someone would get wind of it.
“I dunno,” I say. “I could probably go to Vegas and pick up a girl there to marry without anyone knowing.”
“Classy. Do they still have Elvis impersonators licensed to marry?”
“Hey, don’t blame me. You didn’t specify how this marriage would happen.”
“Theoretical marriage that’s never happening,” she corrects. Why does she sound so annoyed? “I mean, a big showy thing followed by a real ugly divorce would undermine what you’re trying to do here, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah. But it might be fun.” I lean in, blowing a strand of loose hair away from her face.
She pretends to hate it, but I see her cheeks bloom red.
Shit, with her body against mine, all warmth and supple curves, it’s hard to imagine ever sharing a life with anyone else.
“Do you ever wish you could disappear?” she asks after a second. “Like hire your way into some witness protection thing to assign you a new name and life?”
“What?”
“The publicity.”
“That’s part of my life. I’ve made my mistakes—too many to count—but they’re mine. No sense in starting over and living a total lie, even if I could make it happen.” I shrug, not wanting to get into this when we’re surrounded by the publicity on all sides.
The second we dock on the island and walk into town, we’ll be swarmed with attention. Bainbridge is a quiet place with a small-town vibe and basically the same appetite for any whiff of gossip. The summer crowds also tend to be larger and livelier.
“But wouldn’t it be easier? You get no privacy, Brady.”
“That’s what I asked for when I fired up my social media machine.
Part passion project and another part trying to reinvent myself.
Even when it works, you still pay the price, trading some shitty comments and unwanted attention for awareness that can make a real difference in everything you care about. ”
I can practically feel her skepticism rising, but she doesn’t respond.
“We’re nearly there. Ready?” I say instead, nodding at the ferry terminal coming into view. A few lazy harbor seals lounge on one of the nearby buoys.
“No. I’d rather watch the seals and ride back and forth.”
“You’ll do fine. You’re with me, baby girl.”
“God, you—” Her voice chokes off as she leans against me, her skin so hot.
“What?”
“You have to stop doing that. And fine? That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbles, but when the ferry docks and we step onto the long walkway gate to deboard, there’s a smile on her face.
A natural one.
“Just pretend it’s a normal day out of the city. I come here all the time, and I still love it,” I say. “Wave at the friendly people when you catch them staring.”
It’s not a long walk through the small terminal and up the hilly sidewalks into town, walking hand in hand.
The sun is out, and I spot a few obvious gawkers along the shaded streets, already trying to film us.
By tonight, their content will be everywhere.
Like always when there’s a performance to put on, I slip back into my show suit, smiling and pressing hands with a few folks who do a double take as we pass.
Beside me, Lena relaxes slowly.
On the ferry, it was easy to forget what we were here for, but the attention we pull as we head down the main stretch of town acts as a constant reminder.
I wave to a group passing by.
“Now I know how it feels being royalty. So ridiculous.” She sighs.
“Never spent too much time with royals, and nobody here would recognize them.” I peer through the window of a bookstore as we pass. “Do you want to stop and browse? It’s a nice, quiet break in here.”
“What, to buy something?” She stops beside me, hand tucked in my arm.
“I told you it’s just a day trip. So, yeah, if you feel like picking up a new book or some touristy gimmick, why the hell not? Let’s look natural.”
She huffs, but a little more of her tension fades as she glances up at me, her big brown eyes softening.
“I don’t do touristy. Sorry. There’s a reason I avoid the Seattle waterfront like a plague.”
“Ice cream, then?” I nod at a small place a few more stores down, which sells the good stuff. “I know you’ve got high standards from your mom’s place and all. Never gets old to feed your sweet tooth. Also, it’s good for the local economy.”
“Well . . .” She blinks, her lips pursing as she mulls it over. “The chocolate cherry flavor sounds interesting.”
“Perfect.” I steer us toward the store, sidestepping two people who snap quick pictures of us.
Lena’s shoulders tighten, but to my surprise, she offers them a goofy smile and a wave.
“There she is. You’ll be a natural in no time,” I say.
“And you’ll drag me into an early grave,” she grumbles.
“With that smile? Like hell. If you’re not careful, you might start having a good time, woman.” I lean in to kiss her cheek as we stand in the shade of the awning, taking our place in the long midday line. “No one’s going to look at us and think this is new.”
“You think?” She examines our clasped hands like she’s just realized we’re still linking them. “Everything feels new. I can’t stop feeling jittery.”
It’s not like her to be intimidated.
“I saw you face down your ex,” I say. “Even though you were scared for your life. That proves you’re made of stronger stuff than you think.”
“The cameras are scarier,” she lies.
“The cameras just want what they can’t see—a fairy tale. That’s not so bad. They’re in the mood for a happy story or two. We just have to serve them like this ice cream shop dishing up scoops.”
She fires a glare at me, but it has no bite. “I can’t believe you’re such a romantic. How does that happen when you’re so . . . so you?”
“The same way you misjudged me.”
She laughs and allows me to lead her into the store. Although this is a show for the general public, I want her to relax—for her sake and for our watchful eyes.
I ignore the phones pointed in our direction as we decide on our order, taking our sweet time to taste test a few more types with the little wooden spoons they offer.
Soon, we step back into the summer sunshine with our cones, heading up the street.
“I don’t know how you stand it. Even the ice cream can’t take the edge off,” she whispers, deliberately not looking at my face.
“You get used to it.”
Her nose wrinkles. “I hope I never do. Is this what it’s like every time you go anywhere in Seattle?”
I check my watch. Just a little while longer.
“Not every time. Sometimes, we make sure a place is clear first. Or hire out a venue for true privacy, that sort of thing.”
She blinks in surprise. “A venue? What, like a whole restaurant?”
“Once in a blue moon. My father’s more prone to pulling that shit than me. He’s more allergic to people than ever since his—his condition.”
Especially so he can chew me out at will without anyone else listening.
She notices how I stumble at the end. I’m also glad she takes the hint on my face not to dig.
“NDAs go far too. Always important for our long-term relationships,” I say.
“Like the one you made me sign.”
I nod as I take a long lick of my toffee-flavored ice cream. “It’s for your own good as much as mine.”
“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”