Ben thought about that for a while. It all made perfect sense, now that she’d explained it. Except . . .

“Can I ask you something? Something personal?”

The smile faded from Anna’s face, but she nodded.

“Sure.”

He tried to think of the best way to ask this.

“It’s just about . . . what you told me on the way back from Palm Springs. You said the photographers made you anxious and panicked, which I totally understand. But today, you seemed fine—unless maybe you weren’t fine and you were just acting? In that case . . .”

She shook her head.

“No, I was fine. I actually thought that was kind of fun, didn’t you?”

She glanced over at him with a grin on her face.

“I thought it was hilarious, actually. I was cracking up inside the whole time.”

She laughed.

“I thought so—me, too. And you’re wondering why I was okay now, and not before? I guess the difference is that for things like today, I’m in control. Obviously not over what they say about me, or what the final pictures look like, no. But the where, when, how, who—all of that I do intentionally. It’s not something I have to do because I can’t escape from them. I mean, yes, it’s also because now I’m in therapy and on meds and doing so much better, but that’s another big part of it.” She made a face. “My therapist thinks I shouldn’t feel the need to control everything quite so much. I’m . . . working on that.”

Weren’t they all working on something? Or supposed to be, anyway.

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks. For answering me, I mean.”

She dropped her hand on his knee. That was usually his move. Now he understood why it so often worked.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And thanks for today. For doing all of this, I mean. Dealing with Simon—I’m really sorry about that, by the way, he insisted on meeting you, I should have warned you—and the flight down here and making adoring faces—”

“Besotted, I believe the word was,” he said.

“Oh right, sorry, making besotted faces at me. Thank you for all of it.”

He put his hand over hers.

“You’re welcome. But really, don’t thank me too much—this is fun for me. And now the whole world thinks I’m dating Anna Gardiner? Win-win.”

She laughed, but tightened her hand on his knee.

“Okay, but just let me say this. I have no idea if any of this will work, but I guess . . . going back to what I just said, I guess I feel better about it all now, because I’ve tried to snatch some of the control back. I’m not just sitting around hoping for my career to happen to me; I’m taking charge of it. And I like taking charge.”

Ben looked at her sideways.

“You do, do you?”

She smiled without looking at him.

“Well. Sometimes. Other times . . .”

He had an excellent idea for what they could do when they got back to her house.

Sixteen

“People? We made it to People? The magazine, not just the website?”

Anna had tried not to get her hopes up too high about what could happen from the farmers market photos—she’d thought the day had gone well, but you never knew how pictures could turn out, or what terrible angle some photographer who had a grudge against her could find to make her look sad or angry or sullen. But apparently, all of that worry had been for naught.

“We made it to People,” Simon said. “The magazine, not just the website. Or, rather, you and your little friend made it to People. I have to give it to you, that buying-flowers bit was a fantastic idea, congratulations for thinking of it.”

Anna scrolled through the photos Simon had sent over—one with them strolling, hand in hand, into the farmers market, and one with Ben presenting her with that bouquet of flowers. She could feel how smug her smile was.

“The flowers thing was all him. He didn’t even tell me about it, he just stopped and bought them, so that look of surprise on my face is genuine.”

She looked over at the flowers, in a vase on her bookshelf, and smiled wider.

“Hmm, interesting,” Simon said. “Well, now I’m glad that I leaked all of that stuff about what a great dancer he was and how everyone on set loved him and how respectful he is to women.”

Anna laughed. Simon didn’t fool her.

“You did that for me—or rather, for your interests—not for him. Speaking of our interests—any updates from the studio? Or on when that meeting with Varon is going to happen?”

Because that’s what this was really for. Not fun farmers market jaunts and beautiful bouquets from Ben, or weekends full of great sex and a lot of laughter. All of that was well and good, but they weren’t going to get her what she wanted, which was the Varon movie.

“Varon still isn’t back in L.A., but apparently she’ll be back soon. Nothing from the studio yet, but the buzz around you is getting bigger, between all the press you’re getting for Vigilantes and this Ben thing. He’s coming back down this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” she said to Simon, even though he already knew this. He apparently thought Ben was going to bail on her at every moment. “He’s back on Friday—we’re still on for the Lakers playoff game Saturday night.”

“Ah yes, the Lakers game you insisted on.”

Simon’s original plan for Saturday night had been for a super public double date for her and Ben with one of Anna’s very A-list friends and her former football-player husband. But when Anna found out there was a Lakers playoff game that night, she had forced Simon to get them tickets instead. She didn’t care about basketball, but she knew Ben did.

“Does he have any idea how high-profile this is? Have you talked to him about this? Please make sure he knows how to behave with the cameras on him constantly like they will be at the game. And also, you should . . .”

“Yes, he knows. Don’t worry, Simon. He won’t swear at a player with the cameras rolling, or yell at anyone around us, or any of the other nightmare scenarios you’re making up in your head. But I’ll remind him, just in case.”

She wouldn’t, but if it made Simon feel better that she said so, fine.

Anna hung up and kept working for the next few hours—a call with her stylist to discuss her outfits for the game that weekend and for the premiere in a few weeks, a call with her financial planner, prep for her Vigilantes-related interview the next day, emails to Florence about her schedule, reviewing charity requests.