The following morning, we get an early start. The drive will be slower on the way home, due to our extra cargo, and we have to be back to film bright and early tomorrow at the Caroline Street house. Besides, I was up at sunrise, coffee in hand and belly full of the most delicious mini eggy pancakes called Dutch babies with lemon curd and fresh berries. It’s going to be so sad returning to my own cooking. After we’re settled in the truck, Cameron passes me his phone since I forgot to charge mine. My dad’s truck is too old to have a charger, but it does have a lighter/adapter.

“I can’t handle another five hours of Eddie Money. Can you find a podcast or something? I don’t care what you pick, but please no more classic rock,” Cameron says, pulling out on to the highway. Apparently, he slept better last night (wonder why?) so he’s back to driving.

“You got it.” He tells me his password is his birthdate and I type it in easily.

“Crap.”

His brows raise, but he doesn’t remove his eyes from the road. “What? It’s not charged either?”

“No, it is. It’s Lyle. He’s been texting. All caps and everything. Should I open it?”

He sighs. I know exactly what he’s thinking. The bubble has officially popped on our weekend away from reality.

“Might as well. He won’t quit.”

I skim the messages first, as if I’m screening them. “Looks like it’s to both of us…”

“And?” he asks tersely.

“And you better pull over.”

Cam eases the truck off the next exit and turns on the hazards.

LYLE: ANYONE WANT TO EXPLAIN HOW THIS SHIT ENDED UP ON TMZ THIS MORNING? <<video file>>

LYLE: NICE LITTLE COZY WEEKEND AWAY? DID YOU HAVE FUN?

LYLE: DON’T ANSWER THAT. I DON’T ACTUALLY CARE EXCEPT YOU COMPLETELY OUTED YOURSELVES.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble. Cam clicks on the video and it’s a grainy cell-phone clip of us dancing at the flea market. Honestly, it’s kind of cute. Cameron reads the caption in a dull voice.

“‘Is this who I think it is? Is that Shelby Springfield? And … is that grown-up Cameron Riggs with a beard? XO-XOXO #OTP4EVA #jacksonsworld.’”

“Hashtag,” I correct him when he’s finished.

“Huh?”

“You said ‘pound sign.’ It’s actually a hashtag.”

He blinks and I bite back a grin. For being a former child star, Cam is refreshingly unimpressed with social media. I imagine it has something to do with filming in remote locations the last six years.

“Never mind.”

“I guess I don’t understand what he’s upset about? I mean, it’s our privacy that’s been violated here.”

“And we were in a public space, so even that is negligible.”