America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(31)

This Monday, every last one of my twenty-seven coworkers stops at my desk at our small environmental engineering firm to ask me about Beck Ryder or my parents, because yes, the entire world knows now that I was born Serendipity Astrid Darling, geek daughter of one of Hollywood’s leading but aging power couples.

Because I didn’t edit out the part of the video where I showed Beck my mole. And a paparazzi caught sight of my parents out to eat last night.

And that’s before Beck sends a giant bouquet of purple coneflowers and black-eyed Susans, which arrives at lunchtime.

Coneflowers. Black-eyed Susans.

Favorites of bees.

And here I am, trying to stifle the flood threatening to leak out my eyeballs, because I didn’t expect this level of thoughtfulness, and I also don’t want to believe it was all Beck, because that’s dangerous.

And not helpful for getting my work done today.

Also, he probably really isn’t as good in bed as Trent was.

Huh.

I wonder if Trent’s seen the news.

Sarah, honey, I don’t care who your parents are. They raised you. That’s good enough for me. I just want to meet them.

He asked to see my parents, and I dumped him the next day.

And I felt horrible for it.

I really did.

But we didn’t go to his apartment until after he got me hooked on his magic dick, and we didn’t pull up his iTunes account to watch movies together until a month later, but he literally had zero movies in his account that my dad hadn’t been in.

You like Judson Clarke? Guy’s a fucking legend.

The sex got not-so-great after that.

For me, anyway.

Which was a shame, because he was super talented.

By mid-afternoon, I’m about to call it a day. I’m getting nothing done, and even my clients only want to talk about Beck and the tweet heard round the world and if I’ve actually forgiven him or if he’s paying me off.

People are ruthless.

Oh, honey, take the day off, my mom said last night when I dropped by their hotel on my way home to apologize for abandoning them and thank them for being here and to explain the situation, because my parents have been Hollywood royalty too long for them to believe that my soon-to-be budding romance with Beck Ryder is anything more than a publicity stunt.

You didn’t sign anything without my lawyer looking at it, did you? my dad said. Okay, yes, growled. He’s really into whatever role this is. And your mother’s right. Take the day off. You have a trust fund for this exact reason.

But I didn’t want to take the day off.

I wanted normal.

And going out in public and doing my normal routines is good practice for going out in public with Beck tonight for our first official fake date.

Because I can’t stop the circus.

All I can do is accept that I have to adjust to a new normal and make the most of it, and trust that this really will die down in another month or six.

The end of the day can’t come fast enough, but it finally arrives, and I dart out of the building with my head down, because I don’t know who’s watching.

Mackenzie meets me at my house. She’s got a hoodie over her blond hair, sunglasses that swallow her face, and she’s wearing a scarf wrapped around her mouth and nose. Yes, around the hoodie too. She’s hilarious.

“Seriously?” I say when I open the door for her.

She pulls off her gloves as soon as we’re inside, then rips off her button-down track pants and strips out of the scarf and hoodie. Her fine hair stands straight up like she’s touching a static electricity ball, and at least I know the weather won’t be unbearably humid tonight. “I’m currently unsure as to the level of attention I want just for being your best friend, but I wanted to support you before your date.”

“They’ll run your license plate, and even if they didn’t, you drive the Fireball mobile.”

We both look back at her Smart car, painted in Fireballs colors with the mascot on her hood.

“Shit,” she mutters.

“But they might think you’ve been burned in a horrible accident and that you had to have a face transplant,” my mom says as she sails in from the kitchen to drop cheek kisses on Mackenzie. “I always cover up when I want them to think I’ve had a little work done. Such an ego boost, finding out they think you’re less saggy and wrinkled when you’ve just been eating better and moisturizing regularly. Now, come come. We have canapes out in the kitchen, and I need your help convincing Serendipity to wear this lovely outfit I picked out for her this morning.”

“I think Sarah looks cute just the way she is,” Mackenzie says.

“She’s utterly adorable,” my mom agrees with a smile aimed my way. “But the paparazzi are ruthless and don’t appreciate creative fashion. We need to set the tone if this relationship has any chance of surviving.”

“We’re just friends,” I remind my mom, because that’s the script for today. We’re just friends. And I might not be built for Hollywood, but I know how to deliver a line.

I am Sunny Darling’s daughter. And despite having to fight for roles now, she’s won way more awards than Dad ever has.

Mom smiles. “Mm-hmm.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m going to a baseball game, so I’m wearing a geek shirt. It’s for good luck.”