Page 46 of Single Dad Christmas

“But you know what I mean. You’re in the news with regularity.”

“I’m in the business papers, that’s not the same thing as being famous.”

“Okay, but what’s she famous for? Dating some King for a while?”

“You act like you don’t read gossip websites,” he said, shaking his head. “You know how people like her get treated. It doesn’t matter that they’ve broken up. Maybe in a year or two, it will matter less. But for now, the press still smells blood in the water, so we’ve been careful. But I want to take her out, like a normal relationship, before the press release comes out and it all goes a bit crazy.”

“Riiiight,” Taylor said, in that nuanced way teenagers had, that could make adults feel old and as though they made precisely no sense. “So where will you go?”

At least she was making conversation; that was new. He turned into Melanie’s street. “Just a little Italian place I know,” he said. “Somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

“Nice,” Taylor said, and his heart lifted, because she wasn’t being sarcastic or cruel. “Well, have fun.”

He watched as she grabbed her bag and slung it over one shoulder. “Tay?” He called, stepping out of the car and walking towards her. He stared at her, slightly lost for words. “I want to make this work.”

She blinked at him.

“You and me. Louisa and me. You and Louisa. I want to make this work.”

For a second, something passed over her face. Anger. Irritation. Impatience. But then she nodded. “Okay, whatever. See you later.” She walked towards the house without looking back.

“Oh, crap.”In the midst of lifting her prosecco glass to her lips, Louisa turned her face away from the window of the little Italian restaurant so quickly it almost didn’t make sense, but then Noah, across the table from her, saw what she’d seen.

A flash.

And another flash.

She stood up quickly, keeping her face averted, and began to walk away from the table.

“Where are you going?” he asked, standing and following her.

“To the kitchens.”

“The kitchens?”

He looked over his shoulder to the small scrum of photographers.

“The toilets. Anywhere that doesn’t have a damned window,” she muttered.

He followed her into the ladies’ room, which was empty of other occupants. Guilt slammed into him, because this should never have happened. He should have just kept them home, at his place, where he could control this. Only, this restaurant wastiny and out of the way, just a little trattoria in a suburban area, beloved by locals, but hardly a paparazzi haunt.

“You’re shaking,” he said, grabbing her hands and lifting them between them. He remembered her reacting like this once before. On their first date, when the kid had scootered towards Louisa, and he’d pulled her aside. A car had come around the corner, the lights had flashed, and she’d clearly been upset.

Because she’d thought it was a photographer.

“I’m just—I hate this. I’m all the way on the other side of the world to him; why do they care what I’m doing? Why does anyone care?” she asked, eyes huge when they met his.

“I know, I know,” he said, holding her against his body, stroking her back.

“I just sometimes feel like it’s never going to end. I’m always going to be King Ares’s ex-girlfriend. In ten years, twenty, it doesn’t matter what I do. It’s like the top line of my obituary is always going to feature his name. I hate that. This is so frustrating.” She pulled away from Noah and walked quickly to the other side of the bathroom, then back again. “How did they get here so quickly?”

Something twisted in his gut. Something he refused to acknowledge.

“We only just ordered our meals. That’s not long enough for any of the staff to have made a tip-off, even if they had recognized me. It’s almost like they knew we were going to be here.”

He shook his head, but he could see Louisa’s mind going where Noah didn’t want to.

“Noah,” she closed her eyes on a wave of emotion he hated. “Did you happen to mention our plans to Taylor?”

---