“She obviously wants to keep other women away from you, so either she’s in love with you or…” Then it dawned on me. “Or she’s fending off the

competition for a friend.”

He looked at me and it clicked. “Francesca,” he murmured.

His eyes flashed over to Cal and Kelly, who were both staring back in surprise.

“She knows about my slip with Francesca. I’m not keeping any secrets from Taryn. And just so you believe me…” He looked over at Cal. “Cal,

would you please tell Taryn when, where, and why.”

“That’s not necessary,” I interjected.

Cal cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t know about the why, Ryan, only you can answer that one. But it’s been over a year now since…then.”

Cal focused on me. “We were in Maine filming the first movie. I remember it clearly like it was yesterday.” Something he recalled seemed to

trouble him.

“Ryan had his first traumatic fan encounter. I believe you were completely overwhelmed,” he stated directly. “Fans were everywhere screaming.

We went into a club and some girl grabbed him around the neck. Her boyfriend either tried to remove her off of Ryan or he took a swing at him – I’m

not sure, but Ryan ended up getting punched in the face.” The thought made his lips curl in disgust.

“Anyway, we tried to calm him down; he spent a few hours in the corner tossing back shots of whiskey.”

“Fran was always sniffing around his trailer; it was no secret that she had a crush on him,” Kelly added.

“But for the longest time, he just ignored her. Personally I think you were home-sick and freaked out,” Cal said.

“A lot of both actually.” Ryan grimaced.

The way Ryan spoke, I imagined he was quite lonely when he gave in to Francesca.

“After that one time, Fran started to act even stranger. Things have been weird ever since. And since we’ve gotten back to filming the second

movie, the two girls have been inseparable,” Cal told me.

“Who was the girl that sold the story to the tabloid?” Kelly asked.

“That was the girl I was seeing from the theatre back home. You met her once when we shot the scenes in Acadia, remember? She came to

Maine that one time. Who knows, maybe the bitch sisters got to her too? Ah, it doesn’t matter. She was more concerned about hooking up with my

agent and getting me to make calls for her than she was about our relationship.” He shrugged the thought from his mind.

“I’m going to have to deal with this,” Ryan muttered. He chewed his lip – pondering again.

“Ryan, just let it go,” I advised. “Anything you do is going to make things worse. Just do your movies, play your part. A few years from now this

will all be behind you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He gave me a brief smile and squeezed my hand.

I was glad he agreed. Suzanne seemed to have more than enough reasons to despise me.

Chapter 16 - Fused

Ryan held my hand as he drove us home; our arms rested on the center console.

“I really like driving this car,” he commented. “It handles great.”

“You look like you enjoy driving this car. And I’m enjoying getting driven around for once. I’m so used to driving that I never get to really look at

the scenery.”

“We need to get the windows tinted darker though. That way the photographers can’t get too many daytime driving shots of you,” he grumbled.

I never gave any consideration to thoughts like that, although I never had to worry about having my picture taken either. Still, I loved hearing him

say ‘we.’

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I never get to drive. I’m always jumping in the back seat of cars instead.”

“Or hurled into the back seat of cars,” I added.

He looked over at me quickly. “Hurled?”

“I saw you on television once. You were getting carried through a crowd by a few big security guys. It looked like they just tossed you into the

car.”“

When was that?” he asked.

“When you were in L.A. a couple of weeks ago. I panicked when I saw how they man-handled you.”

I felt his hand squeeze mine tighter. “Your car was completely surrounded by screaming fans; they were pounding on your windows. I worried for

a moment that they were going to break through the glass. That was the night when you first called me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He raised my hand to his lips. “And that was the night you calmed me down. I remember crawling under the blankets to talk to you.”

“I remember wishing that you weren’t on the other side of the country,” I whispered.

“Guess we both got our wish.” He grinned.

He turned onto Mulberry Street; we were only a block away and I had my cell phone in hand, ready to call the police. Parked across the street

from the pub were some SUVs, a van, and a few cars. There were a few photographers on the sidewalk, but not a large crowd like I had feared.

Ryan looked up and down the street. “Ready to make a run for it?”

I was relieved to see my parking spot free of love notes and trash. “Make sure you pay Jason well,” I requested quietly.

Ryan kept me on the inside of his arm, close to the buildings instead of the street. We sprint-walked down the sidewalk. It didn’t take long for the

paparazzi to wake up and start clicking.

A few photographers jumped out of the vans, clicking their cameras fiercely. I just focused on the lines on the sidewalk and the distance from my

feet to the door.

For one second I let my eyes glance up further to check for danger; that’s when I noticed the curly-haired, gap-toothed girl running towards us.

She had things in her hands, no doubt a picture or two for him to sign.

I thought it peculiar; all girls travel in packs. You would rarely see a girl without a fellow girlfriend tagging along… just like Suzanne and

Francesca. But this girl seemed to be alone.

People were yelling “Ryan, Ryan” and even a few times yelled “Ms. Mitchell” or “Taryn” to get me to look, but I copied Ryan’s stance and kept my

focus on getting to the door. Some of the photographers were trying to be nice, asking us if we enjoyed our evening. Ryan didn’t answer. He tucked

his chin down to his chest and I felt his grip on my waist get tighter. I had my key ready in my right hand.

The curly-haired girl reached us before we got to my door. She almost lunged at Ryan, and I gasped at her forward behavior. He instinctively

raised his right arm to block her and he turned his body in my direction. I could feel his panic level matching mine.

“Whoa, whoa!” he cautioned her.

She started babbling about how much she loves his movies and his acting abilities. He graciously slipped the marker out of her hand and

scribbled his autograph inside her book, trying to be cordial. A few other annoying men and women stepped up to get autographs too, and Ryan

signed his name as quickly as he could.

I grimaced as I stuck my key in the door; I hoped that their pathetic day was complete now that they disturbed him and got his signature on a

picture. I twisted the key in the lock and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket with my other hand, pulling him through my doorway.

We walked up my apartment steps in silence; both of us slightly traumatized from the rush that followed a simple act of just coming home from a

nice dinner with friends. I only turned on one light in my living room; I could imagine all the people down on the sidewalk staring up at my windows,

analyzing the shadows in my apartment. I wonder if these shades are opaque enough? Do I need heavy curtains too?

I hung my coat up in the closet and picked his coat up to hang it up too.

“Babe, do you have your phone or is it in your coat?” I patted his pockets to feel for it. He was staring off at one of the closed windows, deep in

thought. My words pulled his attention back to me. I smiled at him, but his mind was a million miles away.