Chapter Eighteen

The last few weeks, Madison had done a lot of things out of character. The problem was, she barely remembered if they were out of character for her, or out of character for herself the last couple of years.

More, really, when she thought of that last year in which Nora was sick.

Grief could easily become your entire personality.

Madison had never meant for that to happen. Nora had definitely not wanted it to happen to her. She’d threatened Madison with a haunting if she let it.

Maybe that was why she’d let it happen. So that Nora would appear in ghost form to snap her out of it.

Casey would call that morbid.

Madison’s leg bounced up and down as she sat in the café outside work they’d always met at before a shift, often with Nora and Jamaal. Without meaning to, Madison had avoided it. She’d realized it as she’d stood at the entrance, almost unable to enter, the slap of familiarity an ache on her cheek.

She’d been avoiding a lot of things, she was beginning to realize.

Maybe avoiding life for two years was what had made her decide to agree to this foolishness with Wren. Maybe it was simply what she’d said: that the damage was done anyway at this point, and she was pretty sure that once they said it was over it would all fizzle out and no one would care about Madison anymore. She didn’t know anything about any of the non-celebrities that other celebrities had dated.

Casey walked through the door, waving a hand in her face to ward off the warmth from outside, and spotted her sitting in the corner, both of their drinks already on the table. Casey sat down opposite her, dumping the huge bulging shoulder bag she always carried onto the ground next to her.

Inside, everything would be organized to a T. She had baggies with labels on them for things like pens.

“Hi!” Casey breathed out. She tugged her drink closer. “White chocolate frappé?”

“You still drink that, right?”

Her best friend of more than a decade, and she had to check her coffee order. Shame nibbled at her.

Casey, however, seemed to bear no such ill will. “For sure.” She took a long sip through the paper straw, closing her eyes in bliss. “Ah, thank God, I needed that.”

“You were on call last night, right?”

She took another sip. “Mhm. The doctor that was on thought he’d have it all covered but then there was a pileup.”

Madison winced. “Ouch. Long night?”

“Very. But I got to go home after for some much-needed sleep, so all was well. And,” she said, ever so casually, eyes on her straw as she dipped it in and out of her drink, “I got the great news that you felt like catching up.” She looked up, bangs in her eyes, and smiled. “Highlight of my week, to be honest.”

Madison didn’t feel like she deserved that. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I’m not saying that to rib you. I just want you to know, it was really great to hear you say yes.”

Madison had no idea what to say. So, she went for something easy. “I’ve missed you.”

Casey’s face almost collapsed in on itself in relief. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Oh, no. Madison was welling up. “I didn’t mean to, you know. Disappear.”

“I know, I know.” Casey reached out, hand on Madison’s and squeezing. “I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying, but I never wanted you to think I wasn’t here.”

Flipping her hand, she grasped Casey’s, and with the other she swiped at her own cheeks. Casey squeezed hard. “I knew,” she whispered. “I did. I couldn’t handle anything, is all.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Madison very much felt like she did, though. “I hated the pity.”

Casey pressed her lips together in a thin line, nodding. “I knew you would.”

Of course she did. Casey knew her so damn well.

“But so you know, I didn’t pity you.”

“I know.” She paused. “I just couldn’t cope with everyone feeling sorry for me. It felt like a little bit more of me pulled away each time and I was scared I wouldn’t be able to keep getting up and going to work if those little bits kept getting pulled away.”

“I get it. As much as I can. If it was Jamaal, I… It was hard enough that it was Nora.”

That hand squeezed tighter, and Madison matched it. “She’d be so mad at me for pulling away from everyone.”

Casey gave a little choked laugh. “Shit, right? She would be so angry.”

Madison laughed too at the immediate way Casey agreed. “When she made me promise not to sulk, I don’t think she could really understand precisely how much her not being here would hurt.”

“Can’t blame her for trying, though,” Casey said. “She made me promise not to let you sink. You made that very hard.”

Madison laughed again, and it was a bit snotty this time. She wiped at her face once more. “I didn’t sink, at least.”

Casey squeezed her hand again. “I know you didn’t. I also know you’re annoyingly stubborn and independent and that you probably needed to disappear before you reappeared. I won’t lie though…I got worried you weren’t going to reappear.”

“I made it a habit.”

“I love that you took that job as a medical consultant. I feel like that was the catalyst.”

“It’s been…an adventure. I have no idea why I said yes.”

“Work basically forced you into vacation and this way you could work and not have to be alone with your thoughts? Or maybe your subconscious was crying out for help.”

“Too close to home.”

Casey snorted and grabbed her drink to suck up another giant mouthful of sugar and caffeine. Madison had some kind of herbal tea that wouldn’t be as good as she could make at home.

“So.” Casey straightened and let Madison pull her hand away to start pouring the tea out of the little pink and blue spotted teapot. “Are you, or are you not, dating arguably the most famous woman in the world?”

Madison filled her in, including the story of how she and Wren knew each other. Which Casey cackled at a lot.

“You are kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“Did Nora know this story?”

“She very much did and was very much sworn to secrecy.”

“I have no idea how she kept it to herself, I already want to tell everyone.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Not even Jamaal?”

“No.”

“My mom?”

“No?”

“Damn.”

When she finally wrapped up telling Casey everything up until her conversation that morning, she’d finished her first cup of tea and was pouring a new one.

“And there’s nothing going on between you?”

“What? Did you just listen to my story?”

“Of course.”

“The whole point is that there is nothing going on between us, but everyone thinks there is. That was literally the entire point of what I was telling you.”

“Yeah, but…is there?”

“No!”

But Casey was giving her a look, and something in the air shifted between them and the joking vibe wasn’t there anymore. They’d had their emotional moment. Couldn’t they be done?

“I meant what I said the other day. You know it would be okay if there was, right?”

Madison swallowed hard and looked down at her cup of tea, away from the sincerity shining from Casey’s eyes. There was a beat of silence that lasted a bit too long, then Madison finally said, “I know.”

Did she?

“Do you?”

Damn Casey and her knowing Madison so well. She stared adamantly down at her tea. “There’s nothing going on, though.” She looked up, smiling. “So, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

The expression on Casey’s face stayed tender, caring. Sincere. It was like a brand, burning Madison. “Have you thought about dating again at all?”

That question was like being hit in the face. Exactly like a few hours ago when Wren had asked her how she’d feel faking this whole thing if someone came along that Madison would want to date. The idea had been so foreign to her. Something she genuinely hadn’t considered. Here that idea was again, and Madison was flailing.

“Of course I have,” she lied.

“Liar.”

Another beat of silence. Not judgmental silence. Simply Casey giving her the space to tell the truth, if she wanted. All Casey had done for two years was give her space for that, really. Madison had been running from it; or rather, hiding from it. Maybe she owed Casey more than that.

“Okay…” Madison breathed out. “I haven’t. At all. How do I… Why…” She gave up, sighing, not even sure how to say it. “I wouldn’t even know how.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You’ve never done this before.” Casey leaned forward, as if she really wanted Madison to hear her, expression open. “It’s normal to be nervous about what you haven’t done before. Dating after a loss like Nora…” Casey tried to hide it, Madison could tell, but her breath hitched on her name a little. Would that ever go away? “That’s no easy thing. But you hadn’t kissed anyone, once, and you figured that out. You’d never married anyone once, and you did a great job at that. You’d never been a doctor, and you learned.”

“That came with years upon years of prep,” Madison pointed out.

Casey chuckled. “Fair. But dating the first time didn’t. Being a wife didn’t.”

“Stop making perfectly sound and logical points, please.”

“Awfully sorry. I want you to be happy. If you never want to date again, that’s completely okay. But I really want you to understand that it’s also okay if you do.”

Madison swallowed, a lump hard in her throat that she hadn’t even noticed growing there. She glanced out the window, at the little alley the café resided in, at the boutique across from it, a man walking out with several laden bags, a tiny dog on the end of a leash he held. People ran back and forth, and traffic could be heard on the main road so close to them, horns and voices and wheels turning over cement.

“I know it’s ridiculous, and it’s not how it is. But the idea of—of seeing someone else feels like a betrayal to Nora. Like cheating.”

She heard Casey’s breath hitch, felt her own do the same, and kept staring out the window. The little dog was tugging at the leash, so small the man didn’t even notice as he stared at his phone.

“I can only imagine,” Casey said delicately. “It must be hard, knowing something mentally but still feeling the exact opposite.”

At hearing it put into words so well, Madison turned too quickly back to Casey, neck cricking. “It really is, to be honest. I know if it had been me, I wouldn’t want Nora to put her life on hold forever. I’d want her to live, to be loved. Because she would deserve that.”

“She’d want the same for you. We both know she did want that.”

“I know.” Madison pressed her lips together and imagined her face must look as helpless as she felt. “But it still feels wrong.”

“Did you contemplate it much before this?”

“No,” Madison said honestly.

“Maybe with some time actually thinking about it, the idea won’t feel so wrong. With knowing that it’s an option and having it there in the background, maybe you’ll be able to think about it without feeling like you’re being a terrible person.”

“Maybe.”

“Because you’re not being a terrible person,” Casey said firmly. “I’ll repeat it as much as you need.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Have you talked to that grief counselor about this?”

“I stopped seeing her after about a year. The topic came up. It’s why, like, I know all this. Just…feelings.”

“Maybe if, uh, this topic is actually starting to come up for you, you could talk to her again? About this specific issue?” Casey sounded hesitant, as if unsure if it was her place. Which wasn’t surprising after two years of Madison pulling further and further away.

“That might not be the worst idea.”

Casey let out a breath. “Can’t hurt, right?”

Madison chuckled. “Right.”

“So, how does this whole fake relationship work?”

The switch of conversation was sorely needed. Madison, after avoiding topics such as this like the plague for so long, felt stripped raw.

“I don’t know!” she wailed.

Casey sucked back some frappé, looking thoroughly amused.

* * *

A Saturday shift was hated by many, but Madison had been sticking her hand up for them for a while now. The distraction was worth it. Throwing herself into the rhythm of the shift and working with the nurses and other doctors to save a life sucked out any emotion she had for her personal life. Of course, it wasn’t always so drastic as saving someone. Sometimes she was giving news such as the fact that someone’s sixteen-year-old who was throwing up every morning didn’t have the stomach flu—she was pregnant. Or lancing a giant cyst from an infected zit. Or setting a broken arm.

Either way, all of these things kept her mind away from things she didn’t want to think about, and the shift always passed too quickly, leaving her having to face her empty apartment. Which is why sleeping in the on-call room and taking too many on-calls was what she’d begun to be known for.

Today, though, she was more distracted than usual during her shift.

Probably because she had a ‘date’ with Wren that evening.

Plans on a Saturday night that weren’t the on-call room. Madison didn’t feel like herself.

Despite that very fact, she was looking forward to it. The other night’s dinner, while wildly uncomfortable at times, had reminded her that, every now and again, she liked getting a bit fancy and going out. That there were restaurants to explore, and that conversation was something she actually used to enjoy.

All things she’d done occasionally, once upon a time.

And tonight, she would be doing them again.

On a fake date.

Work was getting slightly uncomfortable, though. People stared at her. Patients never really seemed to put two and two together, but the staff sure did. They all knew her. It was weird, because half seemed unaware—not everyone, even in LA, followed all the latest celebrity gossip, nor did they care—but the other half seemed to be whispering a lot. Annie had seemed to be trying to corner her on and off all day, but Madison had managed to sidestep her or get called into a code or turn the opposite direction multiple times.

“Got you.”

Madison, filling in paperwork in a bay with the curtain drawn, the patient long discharged, froze. She looked up guiltily from the tablet balanced on top of the clipboard on her lap where she’d been tapping in some info.

“Hi, Annie.”

“Could you have avoided me more today?”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. Oh! My phone is ringing, sorry.” She grabbed for her phone from her pocket.

Annie did nothing but glare at her.

“Not buying that?” She dropped her very silent phone back in her pocket.

“Not at all. How have you managed to avoid me so much? I’m coordinating the shift.”

“Pure talent.” She clutched the tablet harder at Annie’s cold look. “And maybe a touch of luck.”

“You’re denying me gossip! I just wanted to know if it’s true.” She lowered her voice and tugged the curtain back behind her. “Are you dating a celebrity?”

“No!” Madison hissed.

She didn’t care what other people thought. But lying bluntly to Casey and Annie’s faces wasn’t something she was able to do.

“Sure seems like it!”

So now she had to fill in Annie, which she did in a hushed voice and far quicker than she did with Casey, adding in the plea to not tell anyone.

“And you have a fake date tonight?”

Madison nodded, flicking her nail against the edge of the clipboard. “Yeah.”

“Going to get dressed up?”

“I was thinking pants again, but yeah, something a bit fancy.”

“Where you going?”

“Not sure, actually, Wren was going to message me the place.”

Annie giggled.

“What?”

“Just…Wren. It’s like you saying, you know, your bestie Britney, rather than Britney Spears.”

Madison laughed, surprised. “I mean, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose I’ve never followed much celebrity stuff and haven’t felt that starstruck.”

“Well clearly, you’re out there hanging out with Trinity Dray and Wren Acker.”

“Want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I hadn’t seen any of Wren’s stuff before I got involved in the project.”

Annie’s mouth fell open. “What? How? She’s in everything. Do you live under a rock?”

Madison swung herself back and forth a little on the stool she was sitting on. “I mean, basically. I’ve never been that into TV or movies.”

Plus, you know, she’d avoided everything with Wren in it and had held a grudge against famous people in general thanks to her run-in with Wren when they were kids.

“Why not?”

That reason, but also another. “There never felt like there was anything for me. You know? Distracted little queer girl living in in a small town. What was there on TV I could relate to? I was that kid that read instead. Everywhere. Anywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

“Yup. Used to convince my mom to take me for a drive and then I’d just read next to her in the car.”

“Pure bonding time,” Annie teased.

It had been, for Madison. Maybe her mother had hated it. But Madison was exhausted all the time from school and trying to focus. Books were something she could lose herself in, and in the car, all her other responsibilities couldn’t be done—couldn’t write an essay there, didn’t have to socialize. Everything was on hold on a trip. She could read without feeling like she was putting something off. And being with her mom was easy, like breathing.

The perfect safe disconnect spot.

“Right?”

“What time’s your dinner? I’m going to stalk you on Twitter.”

“You’re following me?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am.”

Madison sighed. “Eight.”

“You looking forward to it?”

“You know what? I am.”

Annie studied her, and her eyes narrowed as she stared intently.

“What?” Madison asked.

“Nothing,” Annie said blandly. “You just…seem happy.”

Madison blinked at her, unsure what to say to that. Was she happy? She had been determined not to lose herself to grief, not to fall down a rabbit hole and disappear into it. But she’d definitely been anything but happy. Was she now?

“I guess I’m enjoying all this. New things.”

“New is good.” Annie squeezed her upper arm reassuringly. “New is very good.”

That lump was back in Madison’s throat.

Just then, thankfully, the phone in Annie’s pocket rang. She answered it, listening intently, answering a few questions, then hung up.

“Got to move, we have a patient coming in, eight years old, drowned in family pool while everyone was there. He was resuscitated on scene by his older brother.”

Madison stood up as quickly as she could, gathering the pile of stuff on her lap into her arms. “How long was he not breathing?”

“Information is a bit messy, it was utter panic, estimated maybe a minute or two. Brother pulled him out and started CPR extremely quickly.”

“Is the kid responsive now?”

“Seems like it.”

“Let’s get going.”

* * *

Dressed in a button-down, deep red blouse and tight black slacks, Madison took a breath, then slipped into the passenger seat of Wren’s car.

“Hi!” Wren said. She was smiling, hands on the steering wheel. “You look great.”

Madison smiled back, trying not to let any residual nerves she had take over. “Thanks, so do you.”

As Wren always did. She was in another tailored playsuit, this one entirely black, with white lapels at the chest, showing the white silk lining inside. Her deep red hair was loose around her shoulders, face makeup-free.

“Thank you.”

Once Madison had her seatbelt on, they pulled away from the curb of Madison’s building. “No security tonight?”

Wren made a face as she turned at an intersection they managed to catch a green light on. “No. There’s security at the restaurant, that should be fine. I get the need for it and sometimes I go with bodyguards if I want to go shopping or something. Mostly because the sight of them is enough to have people leave me alone. But like this, I prefer not to.”

“That makes sense.” There was a slight pause. “How far away is the restaurant?”

Wren glanced at the GPS, which Madison realized she could have done herself. “Eighteen minutes. How was work today?”

“Long.”

Wren perked up at the start of conversation. “Tell me about it.”

“It started pretty tame. Nothing very exciting, but it was dragging.”

“Were you too excited to hang out with me tonight?” Wren flashed her a grin, teeth white in the dark of the car, and despite herself, Madison was charmed.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said teasingly, rather than admit that yes, that had been why.

Wren looked amused. “So, did it pick up at all to speed the day up? Is it weird, to wish for medical emergencies so your day gets more exciting?” Her forehead scrunched up as she contemplated that. “That must be weird.”

“It was, at first. As an intern I’d be standing around, wishing for something interesting to come through the door, then realize that meant I was wishing people would get hurt.”

“How do you deal with that?”

Madison considered for a second. How did she deal with that? “I mean, those first few times I realized it and felt a bit bad. But then it kind of settles into the normalcy of the job. Like the dark humor you hear about us having all the time. It’s all part of the work we do. I don’t actually want people to be sick and dying.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you.” Wren gave her a joking side-eye that screamed ‘sure’ and Madison laughed, Wren grinning again when she did so. “Did it get more exciting?”

“Actually, today, yes. And I cannot feel bad, because it had a very happy ending. An eight-year-old was brought in, drowned in the family pool.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. It happens a lot more than you hear about. But get this—his twelve-year-old brother had done a First Aid course in Boy Scouts and did CPR immediately and saved his life.”

“Holy shit, no way!”

“Yeah, like we talked about, CPR is so often not effective in many situations. But drowning is one of the times it is most likely to work. This kid gets brought in in the ambulance and he’s completely fine.”

“Just…fine? Like nothing happened?”

“He was pretty shaken up, but neurologically fine, and he picked up more and more as time passed, to the point where he was scarfing ice cream and complaining about the homework he had to do before tomorrow.”

“Wow.”

“We all applauded his brother. The poor kid looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. The parents were besides themselves, said the kid was a really strong swimmer and they were right there at the grill with their friends keeping an eye on them.”

“How did it happen?”

“The kid didn’t really remember. The older brother said he was doing the trick where you kind of hyperventilate to stay under longer. He’d told the kid to knock it off and that it was dangerous.”

“We used to do that as kids.”

“Yeah, I think he saw it on TikTok or something. His parents were caught between berating him and clinging to him so hard the kid was squirming to get away by the end.”

“It’s terrifying to think that something that we all did really can lead to the scary consequences our parents warned us of.”

“That kid is learning that often your parents really are right.”

“Terrible thing we all have to learn eventually.”

Madison chuckled. “Yeah.”

“So, you actually had a good day in the ER?”

Madison relaxed into her seat, watching the bright lights and silhouetted palm trees zoom past. “I really did. Not having a tragedy was a nice change of pace. The relief and celebratory mood were contagious.”

The lights were growing in intensity outside, more people crowding the streets. Her chest felt light. Airy.

When was the last time she’d decompressed about work after a shift? That she’d chatted to someone about it all, laughed or whined about it? Discussed the highs and lows. The frustrations.

Quiet had settled over the car, but Madison became aware of Wren’s eyes on her briefly before she looked back at the road.

“What are you thinking?” Wren asked softly.

“I, uh…haven’t vented after a shift in a long time.” She kept her eyes on the road. “It’s nice.”

“Well, you can message me any time after a shift.”

“Thanks.”

Madison had a feeling she’d be getting sporadic texts asking her how her shift had been from then on. The thought didn’t bother her. In fact, that warm feeling intensified.

“We’ll be there in five.”

“Where are we going?”

“You didn’t check the link I sent?”

Madison grimaced. “I forgot you sent a link, sorry.”

She’d seen the message and meant to click it later when she’d had time, but that message had disappeared completely from her consciousness the second she’d closed the app. Like always.

“It’s okay! It wasn’t important. It’s a sushi bar.” Wren was repressing a smile.

“You chose a sushi bar for our Big Sapphic First Fake Date?” Madison asked incredulously.

Wren snorted a laugh, unable to keep her mirth down at her own hilarity, apparently. “Too tongue in cheek?”

“Perfect amount. They’ll lap it up. Think of the headlines.”

This shouldn’t be so fun. This lying relationship. Her reasons for being uncomfortable with the idea were valid, and still swirling around inside her. But also, baiting the press to post stupid stories about them was starting to get more and more entertaining.

The GPS announced, “The destination is on your right.”

Wren pulled in smoothly, the valet already walking over. There was paparazzi at the door, leaning against the red brick of the building, some smoking, some chatting, cameras around their necks.

“Oh, God.”

Wren snapped her head around. “Want to leave?” she asked immediately.

Madison swallowed heavily. “No. Just…reality.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, which was strange as the other time the cameras had been in her face, while a little overwhelming, had strangely not made her very nervous. However, this time came with connotations.

“We can honestly leave. We could head back to my place and order pizzas.” Wren’s eyes lit up. “Actually, that sounds like absolute bliss. Pizza. Couch. A show. Hathor. She’ll be beside herself to see you, and she loves pizza.”

Madison laughed, her tension easing a little. “No, I’m okay, promise. Unless you want to go?”

A lot of those against the building were straightening up, staring at the car.

“I’m good,” Wren said. She turned to where Madison was so focused. “They know my car.” She rolled her eyes. The valet was waiting patiently by the door for an indication to open it.

“They recognize your car?”

“Yup. Privacy really is, like, zero.”

“How do they not follow you home?”

“I recently moved, which helps, and there hasn’t been much interest in my life since I moved. I came out before moving.”

“Oh.”

Wren was watching her, impassive. Waiting for Madison to decide.

“Let’s go then.”

At Madison’s confident tone, Wren threw her a grin and raised a hand to her door handle, Madison doing the same. The valet took over opening Wren’s door while Madison, like a peasant, had to open her own.

The second they were standing outside, Madison walking around the car to join Wren, paparazzi flew over, a bouncer holding up their arms to create a line for them to walk down to the door. They didn’t start shoving the bouncer or anything intense, which instantly made Madison relax.

Wren leaned into her space a little, grinning, to say something and Madison cocked her head.

“Hey Madison—” she murmured it in the way someone does when they are about to tell a joke, face lit up “—what do you get hanging from trees?”

Madison met her gaze. Wren’s eyes were sparkling. “I don’t know, what?”

“Sore arms.”

It took a second, then Madison laughed, head thrown back and Wren pulled away, chuckling. Madison instantly felt any residual tension ease off and cameras flashed, almost blinding.

But it didn’t matter, because Wren held out an arm. “Shall we?” she asked, in a voice dripping too much charm.

Relieved there was no hand holding or acting up excessively for the cameras, Madison linked her arm through Wren’s and they walked into the restaurant, Wren waving at the cameras but not stopping for the shouts.

When some of the shouts were directed at her—“Doctor! How does it feel to be on the arm of arguably the most famous woman on the planet?”—Madison ducked her head.

Wren, however, finally did engage, sending the woman who’d called that an overly exaggerated shocked look. “I’m hurt, Isabelle! Arguably?”

She winked at Isabelle and the cameras flashed more, some of the crowd laughing good-naturedly.

This was the Wren who had been in papers and magazines and all over the internet. Charming with reporters. A bit of a dork. Happy.

“Who knows, Wren! Trinity may take over that soon!”

“Oh, please,” Wren called over her shoulder, putting a hand on the small of Madison’s back to usher her through first, seemingly without even thinking. It was an easy gesture, one Madison would do for Casey, or Casey for her. Casual. Warmth shot up Madison’s back and into her cheeks, and she was glad to walk in first, escaping all the cameras and Wren’s gaze for a second. “Trinity has already surpassed me! An Oscar at seventeen? I don’t stand a chance.”

And she slipped through the door after Madison, hand long slid away from that touch.

It had been about two seconds of contact.

Yet that warmth wasn’t going anywhere.

They were seated quickly, once again in a room off to the side, private with a table set for two and a water feature on the wall.

Madison blinked at Wren across the table once their drink order was taken. “Do you get private rooms everywhere?”

Wren laughed, reaching for the water bottle on the table to fill their glasses. “Often, yes. I don’t ask for them usually, unless it’s a big group and I’m trying to avoid attention. But sometimes, if it’s booked under my name, they do it automatically. Depends on the restaurant.”

“I could get used to this.” She glanced around the room, which was beautifully decorated, the speakers tinkling out tranquil music. The sounds of the restaurant were distant, a dull clinking of cutlery and murmuring of voices.

“Well, the next one will probably end up being with the rest of the restaurant, just to make sure you don’t.” Wren put the bottle of water down and winked.

“How presumptuous,” Madison said. “Our first date and we haven’t even ordered, and you’re assuming there will be a second one?”

Like every time Madison made some sort of attempt at humor, Wren appeared delighted. She laughed, the sound loud and solid and real, and Madison could barely remember what drove her to anger about this woman before.

“I’ll have to check our agreement,” Wren said.

“Ah, the romance.” Madison held her glass of water up and Wren raised her own and clinked them together over the table.

“I’m known for my romance. We can even write an actual contract, if you want.”

“Oh, stop.” Madison waved Wren away coyly and as over the top as she could manage. “I can’t with such chivalry.”

Before they could keep the schtick going that had well and truly been milked, a waiter appeared.

They ordered, taking advice on the specials, and by the time the waiter was walking away, they were already back into a conversation. In fact, they were still going when their food was brought through.

“Oh, come on, that movie was charming.”

Wren snorted. “It was terrible. It was so cheesy. Besides, I thought you hadn’t seen it?”

“Caught me. I haven’t. But I read somewhere that it was charming.”

“Charming is the word used by critics who don’t want to tank a movie because of the people involved but they don’t know what else to say about it.”

Madison laughed. “I don’t believe that.” Her plate was put down in front of her, and she smiled at the waiter. “Thank you.”

“No, no, it’s true. I was seventeen and it was the only movie at the time I could get that didn’t have me teaming up as the girlfriend of some man in his thirties.” She paused as her food was put down in front of her. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

The waitress blushed, following out the other waiter with red creeping up her neck.

Wren didn’t even notice.

“Well, the charming movie was a good choice, then.”

“I repeat, you haven’t seen it. It was cheesy. Terribly so.” Wren grinned, eyeing her. “So, you never watched any of my movies?”

Madison didn’t know how she did it. How Wren could ask something like that and not come off sounding conceited, but more curious.

“Not a one.”

“I think if we’d been in reversed situations, I wouldn’t have been able to contain my curiosity about the girl I knew from camp being in movies.”

“Ah, but did that girl you knew from camp shove you into the dirt?”

“She did not, no.”

“There you go then,” Madison said, smirking.

“But even if she had…no, sorry, curiosity would have won out.”

“We clearly don’t carry grudges the same way.”

Wren laughed, throwing her hand over her mouth since she’d just taken a bite of some kind of fish they’d been promised would be ‘heavenly.’ “But what if I was terrible? You could have gloated to yourself.”

“But see, I’m less about gloating and more about stewing. Case in point: it was twenty-five years later and I was still bitter. I like my grudges.”

“We definitely hold grudges differently, it’s true.”

Madison studied her a second, eyes lit up over the table. “I think you don’t really hold grudges.”

That made Wren pause a moment. She blinked a few times, as if really sitting on the idea that Madison had given her. “Huh. I guess you’re right. I mean, I get annoyed at people—”

“Oh, I definitely know that,” Madison said.

Wren flashed her a smile. “But, yeah, I guess I don’t hold grudges…”

“Not still mad at your mother for something? School friend? Actress that stole a role?”

Wren rested her fingers against her glass, playing at the edge as she thought. “Nope. Wow. I didn’t realize this about myself. Oh, wait! Marcus Daily. I’m still pretty mad about all of that.”

“I think that’s a bit different to a grudge, though.”

Wren deflated a little. “Oh! I thought I had one.”

“I never met anyone who would be disappointed they don’t hold grudges.” Madison considered that for a second. “Mostly because I don’t think I ever met anyone who doesn’t hold grudges.”

“Are you a big grudge-holder?”

“I mean…probably not? To be honest, you fed my grudge holding for such a long time that no one could ever really compare.”

“I was unbeatable?”

“Oh, come on! What happened at camp? And that girl who pushed me being the first girl I—” Madison snapped her mouth shut, heat racing up her arms and back to flood her neck and cheeks. But she was too late. The damage was done.

A wicked, teasing grin was curling up Wren’s face. “I’m sorry? The first girl you what now?”

That grin was growing even wickeder and something about it made Madison’s face heat up even more.

Though that could simply be the sheer mortification she was experiencing.

“Nothing,” she squeaked.

Wren laughed delightedly. “The first girl you ‘nothing?’ Wow, you’re red.”

“Shut up,” Madison said, reaching for her water in the hopes that drinking it would somehow cool her flaming cheeks.

It did not.

Wren took pity on her, resting an elbow on the table, chin in her hand. “You were the first girl I had a crush on too, you know.”

More heat in her cheeks? How was that possible?

“Why do you think I dared you to kiss me then panicked so hard?”

Madison cleared her throat lightly, hoping to regain some of her dignity. “That’s embarrassing for you. I was going to say the first girl I wanted to deck in the face.”

Wren’s grin was like a thousand-watt bulb, Madison’s attempt doing nothing to dim it. “Sure you were.”

Madison rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. The first girl I had a crush on. But don’t worry, that went away the second my ass hit dirt.”

Wren winced. “I am genuinely so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Only destroyed my trust in dating and relationships for years upon years. I was emotionally stunted for a long time after that, unable to even think about putting myself out there again.”

Wide-eyed, Wren stared at her. “Oh, no.”

Madison grinned. “Kidding. Spin the bottle when I was fifteen got me out of that quickly, don’t worry. The effect of Wren Acker wasn’t so great.”

“Normally I’d be hurt, but this time I won’t lie, I’m relieved. So, what got you crushing on me?”

Madison knew she’d regret this. Wren was far too pleased with herself.

Two could play at that game. “You seemed to like listening to me, which was few and far between when I was that age. I hadn’t learned to regulate myself much by then.” Wren’s face softened at Madison’s words, her eyes like honey in the light, and the heat was no longer flaming in Madison’s cheeks. Rather, it was warming there, like Wren’s eyes. Out of nowhere, she was a touch scared of where all this could go. “So, what got you crushing on me?”

Wren’s eyes widened.

Madison went for self-deprecating, overwhelmed by Wren’s look and the way she suddenly wanted to lose herself in it. “The way I shared every agonizing fact about Ancient Egypt with you for hours on end?”

It would have been easy to joke about it. To make light of how silly and young and childish they’d been.

Wren didn’t do that. “That was one hundred percent why, yes.”

Everything seemed to stop around Madison, the music fading to nothing. As a child, Madison had been aware that she’d talked too much, all the time. That if she wasn’t talking, she was in trouble for reading nonstop and not paying attention in class—staring off into the distance, lost in a daydream. That she often drifted off and forgot to listen, not because she didn’t think what someone was saying was important, but because listening had gotten physically painful. Or she could hear the clock on the wall, or the buzzing of a light, or she’d had a thought that had leapt away to a subject ten thousand points from the one at hand.

She could regulate it all a lot better now. Medication was a big reason for that, although even that was a balancing act. But as a kid, nine times out of ten, she’d felt annoying.

Here was Wren Acker, telling her that the thing that she’d felt was annoying as heck had been what had made Madison remarkable to her.

“Really?” Madison asked, and that vulnerability in her chest crept into her voice and she’d have hated it, if she could have even truly acknowledged it.

“Are you kidding me?” Wren breathed out. “You were so excited by it; it was so endearing. You knew so much about it—I learned more from you in those weeks at camp than I ever had at school about anything. You were amazing.” Wren’s eyes stayed soft, and she gave the smallest of smiles. “You still are, of course.”

The slightest of lumps was in Madison’s throat. How did one respond to that? What did you say when someone told you that you were amazing?

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, you know,” was what she answered, all without thinking.

Wren blushed prettily and Madison had the urge to lean forward over the table. To press her lips to Wren’s. To breathe thank you against her lips so Wren could literally absorb the words, as Madison had just absorbed all the sentiment she’d been given.

It would be okay if there was echoed in her head from Casey.

They were supposed to be pretending.

All of this was supposed to be—was pretend.

Madison pulled back into her chair and made herself smile. Across from her, the smallest flicker of disappointment could have flashed across Wren’s face, but then she was smiling and reaching for her glass.

“What funny nine-year-olds we were,” Madison said.

“That’s for sure,” Wren agreed.