Chapter 28: The Public Performance

The interview was Marcelline’s idea.

“Controlled exposure,” she’d called it, sitting at the head of the conference table with her hands folded. “You go on, give them something real enough to satisfy the noise and buy us another month of quiet.”

Caelum had looked at Arwen and said yes.

-----

The studio lights were bright in warm gold.

A woman with a headset clipped a microphone to Arwen’s collar. A man moved to powder Caelum’s jaw and got a look that sent him retreating immediately.

“Stop intimidating the makeup team,” Arwen murmured.

“I’m not intimidating anyone.”

“Your face is doing it without your permission.”

He looked down at her, and the corner of his mouth moved. “You’re the only person who talks to me like that.”

“Someone has to.”

The host, a polished woman named Dana Reeves with a warm smile, came over to shake their hands before they went on.

“Thank you both for coming. This is just a conversation, not an interrogation.” She said. “I’m just interested in who you are together.”

“We appreciate that,” Caelum said smoothly.

Arwen smiled and said nothing.

-----

On the couch, he sat close. His arm behind her, his knee angled toward hers, his hand covering her fingers in her lap. The kind of closeness that didn’t announce itself.

Dana leaned forward. “The article implied this marriage was more arrangement than love story. What do you say to that?”

Caelum didn’t blink. “I say Evelyn Crowe has never spent five minutes in a room with us.” His voice was relaxed. “Arrangements don’t look like this.”

“And what does this look like to you?”

“Like the best decision I ever made.” He glanced at Arwen, and it wasn’t for the cameras. His eyes stayed a bit too long. “She’s quiet, honest, not interested in impressing anyone.” His hand tightened on hers. “It took me about a week to realize I was in serious trouble.”

The audience laughed.

Arwen kept her expression warm and did not think about how much he was still choosing her.

“Isolde, how do you feel,” Dana asked, turning to her, “about being called the woman who doesn’t try to impress?”

“Relieved.” Another soft laugh from the audience. “I spent a long time being what everyone expected. It’s exhausting.” She paused. “With Caelum, I don’t have to perform. He sees me without all the layers I put on for everyone else.”

“That’s a beautiful thing.”

“It’s just the truth.”

Dana smiled. “There's a word you used in a statement last week that people haven’t stopped talking about. You called her your anchor. Tell me what that means.”

Something shifted in Caelum’s jaw.

“I grew up in a world where everything is negotiable,” he said. “Loyalty, affection, even family. You learn to hold things loosely because anything can be used against you.” He looked at Arwen, and his voice went softer. “She’s the first thing in my life that feels completely solid. ” His thumb moved slow across her knuckles. “An anchor isn’t someone who holds you down. It’s someone who keeps you from drifting somewhere you can’t return from.”

The room went quiet.

Arwen’s chest ached with how much she meant it when she turned and looked at him.

“You never told me that,” she said softly.

“I’m telling you now.”

Dana pressed a hand to her chest. “I don’t think anyone in this room is breathing.”

-----

Backstage afterwards was noise and movement—assistants unhooking microphones, someone offering water, Marcelline on her phone already talking about clip performance and sentiment tracking.

“You were both excellent,” Marcelline said, passing them without slowing. “I will have numbers by tonight,”

Caelum’s hand stayed on Arwen’s back.

She could feel the shift in him the second the cameras cut.

“Caelum.”

“Give me a minute.”

He guided her away from the cluster of people, down a side corridor behind the set where it was dim and quiet and the only sound was the low hum of the building.

He stopped.

She turned to face him and found him closer than expected. One hand flat against the wall beside her head, his body blocking everything else out, eyes on her face like he was looking for something specific.

“Tell me I’m not a fool.” His voice was raw. “Out there, I meant every word. I wasn’t performing.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He exhaled, and she felt it warm against her lips. His free hand came up and curved around her jaw. “Because I need you to actually know that.”

“Caelum...”

He kissed her — not gently. The kiss had been building through the entire interview, through every composed smile and restrained touch. His hand slid from her jaw into her hair and she grabbed the front of his jacket with both fists and kissed him back just as hard.

He pulled back to breathe.

“We’re still backstage,” she managed.

“I’m aware.” He didn’t move away. His forehead dropped to hers with fingers still tangled in her hair. “I don’t particularly care.”

“Marcelline will...”

“Arwen.” His voice was low and rough. “I genuinely do not care about Marcelline right now.”

She laughed and he caught the sound with his mouth.

His hands moved in her hair, pulling her flush against him until there was no space left between them and she could feel exactly what the whole composed television performance had cost him.

“We should go,” she breathed against his mouth. “We can’t do this here.”

“No.” He pulled back and his eyes were dark. “We can’t.”

He took her hand and didn’t let go.

Marcelline appeared at the corridor entrance. “There you are, I need...” She stopped, looked at Caelum’s expression specifically. “It can wait,” she said, and turned around.

-----

In the car, his hand was on her thigh and he drove like a man who had a very specific location in mind.

“Caelum. Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“This isn’t the way home.”

“It’s the faster way.”

She looked at his hand on her thigh. The way his thumb pressed slow circles that were doing absolutely nothing to help her think clearly.

She grabbed his wrist.

He glanced at her and smiled and turned back to the road.

When they finally pulled into the estate and the door had barely shut behind them, he had her face in his hands and his mouth on hers before she could say a single word.

He didn’t turn the lights on.

“Oh, Caelum...”

His mouth found hers in the dark, and whatever she was going to say dissolved completely. His hands slid her jacket off her shoulders and she pulled at his tie, and then as they were moving, they were shedding everything between them—until he laid her down on the bed and held himself above her, breathing hard.

“Should I continue?” he murmured against her throat.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed.

He didn’t.

She said his name twice, and the second time he answered it with his whole body.