~Fallon~
We’d been living in a bubble.
Weeks of private bliss.
No press releases.
No Instagram posts.
No confirmation.
No denial.
Just us—inside the walls of the mansion.
Soft mornings in bed, tangled under sheets we never bothered to make. Coffee that went cold between kisses. Casual runs that turned into hallway undressings. Me reading in his lap. Him whispering things into my neck while I tried (and failed) to stay focused on work.
No makeup. No heels. Just oversized T-shirts, whispered jokes, and a rhythm we built one stolen afternoon at a time.
It wasn’t perfect.
It was better.
So when Reid handed me the envelope—sleek, matte black, heavy with expectation—I hesitated.
“Gala for Children’s Cancer Research,” he said, holding it like it was a loaded weapon. “Black tie. Major donors. Press. Photographers. The full red carpet machine.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And you want me to come?”
He didn’t flinch. “I want the world to see I’m with you again.”
Simple. Solid. No stammer. No hesitatio
