by Lizzie Shane
“There’s more than one Chris Evans?” The woman frowned.
The blonde in front of Trina snorted. “Honey, you have no idea.”
The Captain America fan ahead of them huffed indignantly and stomped off toward Abercrombie.
“Good,” a voice piped up behind Trina, startling her. “Better odds for us.”
Trina turned, realizing belatedly that while she’d been chugging water and reminiscing, the line had been growing behind her. The petite brunette who’d spoken looked about nineteen and could have been a candidate for the superfan competition. She wasn’t just waving a Chris-Face fan, she had his body splayed across the front of her T-shirt and even wore an Addition Magician visor to keep the sun out of her eagerly shining eyes.
“I had no idea he was so popular,” Trina blurted out. Or that all of his fans would be female. Though given the crooked smile, she probably should have guessed.
“This is nothing. The only reason there are so few people here is because we’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I drove up from Minneapolis for this,” Fangirl announced proudly. “I would have been here sooner, but I had to work last night and I ran into the worst construction on the drive. I should have called in sick, like I did when he came to Madison last year, but my boss says I’ve already used my sick days for the next three years and if I don’t want to work there are other waitresses who’d be happy to have my job.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s such a Nazi. I just hope she didn’t make me miss my shot to meet him again.”
“You’ve already met him?”
“Madison,” Fangirl reminded her. “Now that was a zoo. It was right after that Daniella dumped him and every girl in the upper Midwest seemed to think she was destined to be the one to heal his broken heart.”
“Daniella?”
Fangirl looked at her as if she was wasting good oxygen by breathing. “From Romancing Miss Right? The dating show? That’s how Chris got his start.” Don’t you know anything was heavily implied by her tone. “He was one of the Suitors on Daniella’s season—he made it all the way to the end, but then she picked Alan, if you can believe it, though everyone could see he wasn’t there for the right reasons. Chris really loved her too. I was sure they were going to name him Mister Perfect on the next season, but instead they picked that awful astronaut who ended up crashing his car or something right before they were supposed to film. Of course, by then Chris had started doing the Addition Magician show and he didn’t have time to be Mister Perfect.”
Trina marveled that none of this had been on his official bio. It talked about his history as licensed contractor, how he’d built his first addition on his parents’ house when he was seventeen, and how his natural charm and warmth had landed him the reality TV gig—but she’d assumed the TV gig in question was the Addition Magician show, not a reality dating series known for being over the top and exploitative.
“When Daniella broke it off with Alan—which anyone could see coming—she came crawling back to Chris and of course, he took her back, because he still loved her. All these girls think they have a shot since he’s single, but if you ask me, he still loves her, which is why he hasn’t been with anyone else since they broke up.”
Queasiness churned in Trina’s stomach again. He’d never mentioned Daniella in Chicago, but Trina hadn’t exactly been offering up ex-tales either. Was Daniella why he’d suddenly stopped taking her calls? If he was getting back with his celebrity girlfriend, that would explain why he wouldn’t want a pregnant one-night-stand popping up from his past.
“Are you okay?” the blonde asked, angling her umbrella over the pair of them. “You look kind of green.”
“I’m good. Thanks.” Just realizing I don’t know the first thing about the man whose child I’m carrying. Nothing to see here. She extended her hand, hoping to make a friend with someone who didn’t have her baby daddy’s face on her shirt. “I’m Trina.”
The blonde took her hand with a friendly smile. “Ellie.” She nodded toward the Chris-Face fan in Trina’s hand. “Do you watch his show?”
“I’ve never seen it.” She wasn’t sure why she lied. She didn’t have cable in her Chicago apartment—she’d figured it was an unnecessary expense since she was going to be studying nonstop anyway—but she’d streamed half a dozen episodes when she found out she was going to have his baby and couldn’t seem to get in touch with him. And each one had only reminded her why she’d fallen for him. That crooked grin. The calm, unflappable air about him—like he was capable of shouldering any problem she could throw at him. Those abs….
No wonder half the women in Northern Minnesota were lined up to meet him.
“I haven’t seen it either,” Ellie confessed.
“Seriously?” Trina asked. “Then why are you here?”
A light flush touched Ellie’s pale skin. “Honestly? I went to a fortune teller who told me I was going to meet the love of my life and he was going to be named Chris Evans. I know it sounds a little crazy, but I thought, what the hell, right? Everyone has to meet their husband somehow and if this turns out to be how it happens for me, how great would that story be? You have to believe in magic when it comes to love, right? In destiny and kismet?”
Destiny. Was it the hand of destiny she’d felt when they met that night in Chicago? “You’re going to marry someone you’ve never even spoken to?”
“Maybe. I know I’ve never met him and maybe he’s not the guy, but what if he is?” Ellie nodded toward the Fangirl. “Our friend back there seems to think he’s pretty amazing.”
“He is,” Trina murmured, too soft to be heard.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. He does seem great.” On first glance. For the first night. But what did she really know about him?
“Why are you here, if you don’t watch his show?” Ellie asked.
Because I’m carrying his baby.
The words echoed loud in her brain but she couldn’t say them out loud. She felt like she couldn’t tell anyone else until she told him. Like she’d be betraying his trust somehow.
“I thought it was Captain America,” Trina said. She was trying to be funny and Ellie obligingly laughed, accepting the evasion though she obviously wasn’t buying the idea that Trina would wait for hours in the hot sun for someone she hadn’t even come to see.
The woman with the water and the Face Fans returned then, shouting out instructions as she went. “Chris has finished his presentation and begun the Meet and Greet portion of today’s event. He is delighted to see so many of his fans out here today and will try to make time to see as many of you as possible, but he has a flight to catch this afternoon so at some point we will have to cut off the line. There is no guarantee that you will see him today. I repeat—there is no guarantee that you will be able to see Chris Evans today.”
Trina’s stomach roiled.
“That said, we will try to get through as many of you as possible. For this reason, we ask that you all be ready. You will get one photo and one photo only. When you get to the front of the line, you will hand any bags and personal possessions to the security officer at the edge of the tent. You will hand your cell phone—already in the camera app—to Mr. Evan’s assistant, who will take the photo. The assistant will then hand your phone back to you and you will collect your possessions as you exit the tent. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.” Those waiting in the line chuckled at the mall organizer’s attempt at humor and she smiled, shouting, “Good luck!” before moving down the line to repeat her spiel.
“Quite a production,” Ellie murmured.
Trina nodded, barely keeping it together as the line began to inch ever so slowly forward.
“Lots of security,” Ellie commented, eyeing the large men in colorful polo shirts intermixed with the mall’s regular security personnel.
“No one gets close to him that he doesn’t want close to him,” Trina spoke from personal experience. She’d been trying for two weeks and all she’d gotten
were threats of restraining orders from his manager.
“It must be surreal, being that famous,” Ellie mused.
“Mm-hmm.” Trina smoothed her hair, feeling the frizz beginning to reach critical mass, and tried to remind herself to breathe. Breathing was good for the baby, right?
“Maybe he is waiting for the right girl,” Ellie murmured. “How hard must it be to meet someone if everyone you meet is a five second photo op? How would you fall in love?”
You lie about your identity in a Chicago bar. Though, if she was fair, he hadn’t lied. He’d said his name was Chris. He’d told her he was a contractor. He’d just left a lot out.
“I can’t believe anyone would pick Alan over Chris,” a voice carried over the crowd—not the Fangirl behind them, but another of her kindred spirits. “When all the other guys were losing their shit and going on testosterone rampages, he always kept his cool.”
“He’s the same way on his show,” another voice replied. “When the homeowners are freaking out, he’s so calm and collected. Nothing ever shakes him.”
Trina wondered if he would be shaken when he found out he was going to be a daddy. She’d certainly been shaken as hell by the Little Plus Sign of Doom.
Beside her, Ellie bounced on the balls of her feet, craning her neck to see how far the line extended in front of them as they shuffled forward. She was genuinely beautiful—in a wholesome Midwestern way, all bright eyes and shining blonde hair. And she seemed sweet. Considerate. Nurturing. Was she Chris’s soulmate? Would he take one look at her and feel his heart thud the same way Trina’s had the first time she’d seen that damn lopsided grin? Was Trina going to be forced to watch the father of her child fall in love with another woman before her eyes?
No. She was being ridiculous. She didn’t believe in fortune tellers. But ever since she’d gotten pregnant—even before she’d known she was—all of her emotions had seemed amplified beyond rational levels. Jealousy. Fear. All of them so big she could barely breathe through them.
They rounded the corner of the building and she could finally see the tent in front of them—and a new emotion spiked into the insane cocktail rushing through her bloodstream. Excitement. She might really get to see him. Would he remember her? She had to believe he would. The best night of her life couldn’t have been nothing to him—could it? Just another Friday?
The line moved ahead of them, mall personnel counting bodies until a security guard stepped in front of Ellie, stopping her. “Wait here please.”
The fans in front of them filtered toward the small blue tent that had been set up to one side of the stage.
Ellie caught her hand suddenly, squeezing it tight. “This could really be it. My Chris Evans.”
“Yay,” Trina mumbled, hoping she wasn’t about to puke on her new friend’s shoes from the nerves twisting her stomach into knots as she watched their turn get closer and closer.
The security guard blocking their path lifted a hand to his ear, listening to something over his earpiece. His mouth tightened slightly and Trina knew what was coming even before he lifted his arms to quiet the crowd and called out over it.
“I’m sorry, ladies. That’s it for today. Mr. Evans has a plane to catch. Better luck next time.”
Better luck next time.
“Crap,” Ellie murmured.
No.
Trina couldn’t afford a next time. He didn’t have another appearance for weeks and that one was some kind of black tie thing with four hundred dollar tickets. Her budget was already stretched past the breaking point to squeeze in this trip. Flying to Vegas for a fundraiser was going to mean no food next semester. Or no tuition. She already didn’t know what she was going to do about school. Who had a baby in the middle of medical school? By herself?
She could do it. She could be a single mom. Her mother had been a single mom and she’d been amazing, but all they’d had was one another and when her mother had gotten cancer it was like Trina’s entire world had been yanked out from under her. She never wanted her child to feel as alone as she’d felt since she lost her mother. Her daughter. Because she pictured the tiny fetus inside her as a sweet little baby girl, even though it was too early to know for sure.
“Please,” she said to the security guard, feeling the horrible press of tears filling her eyes, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. Keep it together, Trina. “You don’t understand. I have to see him today.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We have to cut it off.”
She was going to have to do this alone. Figure it all out alone. Somehow support her child alone. How was she going to stay in school?
A vision rose up in her mind’s eye, so vivid it seemed to block out the heat of the outdoor mall around her—or maybe she was having heat stroke. She saw herself seven months from now, a giant belly distended in front of her, in a labor and delivery room in some distant hospital when some helpful nurse put the Addition Magician on the television to calm her down. That was as close as she was going to get to having her child’s father with her for the birth—and it would be the only way her baby was going to know her daddy.
No.
Trina burst into tears. Loud, sloppy tears. Later, she would blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but in the moment all she felt was a crushing sense of loss, of failure, of isolation. “Oh God!” she wailed. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this alone.”
“Hey.” Ellie wrapped an arm around her and guided her away from the security guard who was visually measured her for a straightjacket. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I can’t do it, Ellie. I can’t have this baby by myself.”
“Oh wow.” Realization crashed over Ellie’s face. “I knew there was more going on than you were letting on. It’s his?” She nodded toward the blue tent where security guards formed an impenetrable wall.
Trina nodded, sniffling as the first blast of tears dried. There was something unbelievably comforting about telling someone. Her mom had always been her best friend and since she’d died Trina hadn’t known who to confide in. Her friends from undergrad were all back in Seattle, wrapped up in their own lives. They were more acquaintances than BFFs anyway.
It was part of why that night with Chris in Chicago had been such heady stuff—he’d made her feel like she never had to be alone again. And now here she was.
Alone. Pregnant. Such a freaking cliché.
Tears pricked at her eyes again.
“Okay.” Ellie eyed the tent with its impressive security force, determination firming her expression. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” Trina asked as Ellie tugged her around behind the stage.
“Creating a diversion.”
Chapter Two
“Ready to go, rock star?”
Chris worked his jaw, trying to release the muscles in his cheeks that had begun to cramp after two consecutive hours of smiling for the camera. “Is that the last of them?”
“The last we have time for today,” his manager, Marty, explained. “We need to get you to your flight. You need your beauty rest before the morning shows tomorrow.”
Chris grimaced, feeling his cheek muscles pull. He loved his job. He wasn’t going to complain about smiling for the screaming fans or jetting off for an early morning television appearance, but there were days his life didn’t feel like his life.
He was always going where they told him, doing what they told him, always on, always the Addition Magician, and so rarely allowed to just be Chris anymore. But he’d wanted this. It was the dream.
“We’ll just give security a few minutes to clear a path to the town car and then we’ll be ready to roll,” Marty went on, his attention locked on his iPhone as he managed Chris’s world with seamless efficiency. “While I’ve got you here, I was hoping to find a minute to talk to you about your image.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Chris worked the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. For the moment, they were alone inside the tent and he could rela
x. Marty’s words didn’t alarm him—Marty was always trying to fix this or tweak that to make him more marketable.
“Nothing is wrong with it! Your image is perfect! We love your image!” Marty gushed, looking up from his phone. “We just need to be careful right now.”
“Careful how?”
“We have to walk a tightrope with you—you need to be a sex symbol, but a family friendly one.”
“Meaning?”
Marty grimaced. “I’ve been looking at your ratings over the last few years—while you were with Daniella there was a noticeable drop. Your fans don’t like to think of you as taken. But when that woman in Tulsa claimed she was having your baby—”
“That was a hoax. I never even slept with her.”
“I know. But it still sent your ratings into the shitter for three weeks. If you’re too much of a dog, your fans hate that even more than when you’re off the market. So you can’t be hooking up with a new girl in every port.”
“I haven’t been.” He hadn’t been with anyone since Chicago two months ago. He hadn’t had the time, the energy, or the interest.
“I know—you’ve been great, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt for you to know what the stakes are, just in case you’re feeling frisky.”
Chris cringed at the word frisky—and the idea that his manager was now managing his sex life. Did that mean he’d definitively made it?
“No random hook ups and no long term commitments that make you unavailable,” Marty went on. “This is a pivotal moment for us. Until we negotiate this new contract with the network, you have to be squeaky clean, but also fantasy bait.”
“So everyone has to want to sleep with me, but I’m not allowed to sleep with anyone.”
Marty smiled, oblivious to his sarcasm. “Precisely.”
“Lovely.”
Chris couldn’t really be annoyed with Marty for micromanaging his relationships. He’d chosen this life.
When he’d gone on Romancing Miss Right in order to build his platform and get the funding for The Addition Magician, he’d made his love life fair game. He was a contractor, but he knew he owed his fame and his success more to his sex appeal than his skills with a hammer.
