Kevin’s shit-eating grin widens at the mention of my former costar’s name. “You fucker, Riggs.” He takes a bottle off the shelf and pours me another two-fingers’ worth straight into the glass. “You’ll be apprenticing under her dad?”

“Starting Monday. A two-week crash course in home reno while the execs get their ducks in a row and hire a crew. They want to be ready to film as soon as the weather is stable and make sure they get an entire pilot episode’s worth.”

“I love it,” Beth says after sidling up and listening to our conversation. “Those shows are my addiction. So comforting and adorable. I can’t wait to see you two in action. I literally grew up watching you moon over each other every week for years. Be ready, Cam. People are going to go bonkers with speculation.”

“I believe you’re thinking of Lyle and Shelby. I wasn’t part of that.”

Beth rolls her eyes at her husband. Kevin holds his hands up, defensively. “I told you. He’s in denial.”

“It was ten years ago. And a kid’s show. Not real life.”

“And now?”

“And now we’re on a reality show. Even less real than the scripted kind.”

“Except you really are friends in real life, right?”

“Sure. At least, we used to be. I can see it happening again.”

“Friends who also love each other?”

“Christ. As friends.”

“I love you as a friend, Riggs.”

“Thank you.”

“This is where you tell me you love me back, you dick.”

I take in his hulking form. “As a friend who loves you, I beg you to rethink the suspenders.”

He takes the cue. “As a friend who loves me, you should respect my decision to integrate suspenders into my wardrobe.”

“But why should I when there are belts?”

“I’m three hundred and seventeen pounds of pure sex, Riggs.” He rubs a thick hand down his chest, and I try not to choke on my drink. “I can’t be contained by a mere belt.”

The apartment is above Kevin’s distillery, and I end up taking it. Kevin’s questionable taste aside, the place is perfect. Simple, comfortable, furnished, close to my friends, and available immediately. There’s a back entrance that grants plenty of privacy, but honestly, it doesn’t matter. No one recognizes me on the street these days. I’m a little surprised Shelby knew who I was. The beard really throws people.

But she’s exactly the same. Same long blond waves tucked under a ball cap. Same slim frame. Same legs for days. Same stunning girl-next-door looks. I suspect she deals with a lot of recognition, since she hung around the scene longer, but it seems like folks up here are plenty respectful of her privacy.