Page 163 of Wherever You Are
Shit.“You okay?” I place a hand on her back and pass her a water bottle.
She nods repeatedly, then swallows. “Thanks.” She sips the water.
I keep my arm around her waist.
We spent our honeymoon in Hawaii. Seven beautiful days under the sun. Hence, our recent tans.
My chest swells. Remembering it all.
Feeling.
Because before that, I married Willow Hale in a small garden wedding, mostly just family attending. Right here in Philadelphia.
The quiet, intimate ceremony on May 31stwas perfect, but I think we both loved the honeymoon more. Just us. No crowds, no one to greet or try to please.
Being back home, we’ve mostly been dealing with the new move. We wanted a place of our own, just not in Philly suburbs.
An industrial factory in Philly was converted into premium lofts about a year ago. Seriouslypremium.A doorman is posted at the entrance, and so far, Barry seems cool.
But living in the city comes withprivacyissues.
We asked for help testing the “tint” of the massive window in our open living room and kitchen. On the fifteenth floor, we have a pricey view of a cool park and eclectic shops.
Worth the money. I’d rather not stare at a brick wall.
Lo, Connor, and the Calloway sisters came over earlier to determine whether paparazzi could see into our loft from the street.
The verdict:a little bit.
A little bit is too much, so we’ll need to increase the tint level. Until then, Willow and I hung curtains that are drawn shut.
Willow notices me staring at the shrouded window. “You think if we were Lily and Lo, paparazzi would’ve taken pics of us by now?”
“For sure.” I swallow the crust of my pizza. “Give it a couple days though, and I bet we’ll see headlines like:Newlyweds Move into Coolest Loft Ever.The article will call me a high school dropout with connections, and you’ll be Loren and Ryke’s awesome little sister, of course.”
“Of course.” She smiles into a sip of water and then stares faraway in thought.
“Are you still worried about it?” I gesture to the window. “The media finding us?”
Willow shrugs. “I know it’s unavoidable…I guess I’m just scared of what we talked about before.” She turns to face me. “Chaotic Evil.”
Yeah, we’ve discussed the probability of our fame piquing to monstrous, catastrophic levels. “We’re still at Chaotic Good,” I tell my wife—still love that.“Media isn’t printing any cheating rumors or making up fake scandals. They’re just obsessively relishing in our wedding and honeymoon. Next, it’ll be our new place.”
Willow looks around the loft, all metal and concrete. I can see us living here for a long time.
She agrees, “We haven’t been cannibalized. Not yet, but when we have a baby…what if they say that I’m a bad mom or butt into our parenting style?” She’s seen the Calloway sisters deal with public criticism raising kids.
Pretty sure they could breathe and the media would say they’re not inhaling long enough.
My muscles tighten, just picturing Willow going through thatbullshit.
I place a hand on her bare ankle. “Is there more?” I wonder since she intakes a tense breath. “Willow?” My chest hurts.
“I just—I want to not care what happens, if the worst comes, but I’ve seen so many shippers and fansturnon Lily, Rose, and Daisy at a single headline. They go from love to hate with the snap of a finger. It feels like they’re Thanos—”
“They’re not,” I refute, knowing theAvengersreference. “They can’t ‘dust’ your universe.”
But I won’t be the one attacked. I’m a dude. Media and so-called fans harass the girls twenty times more.
