“Enough,” I say. “It’s fine. I’ll get a haircut. But it will be on my terms from someone I trust. I’ve been a little neglectful of late and would want to clean up before getting in front of a camera crew, anyway. But nothing impractical. This isn’t just for show, Lyle. This is my life.” I toss a fry in my mouth.

“What about romance?”

I swallow wrong and choke on air.

“Lyle,” Cameron warns.

“What?” Lyle glares at Cameron. “Are we still pretending you two don’t have a history?”

Lorelai leans in to listen, her eyes far too interested, and I throw her a glare.

Cameron’s cheeks are red under his beard and it would be charming any other time, at any other place, and for literally any other reason.

“We’re not pretending anything,” I say, feeling my face heat as Cameron’s eyes lock on me. “But we haven’t seen each other in … years.”

“Shouldn’t take much time to get reacquainted. You two were always too close for comfort.”

I snap, my maturity out the window. “Says the guy who I dated for five years, faithfully, and then dumped me for my best friend!”

Lyle looks at Cameron and points to him. “Pot.” And to me. “Kettle.”

“The hell?” I shout.

Cameron shakes his head, looking around at the people staring at us, and lowers his voice. “Watch it, Lyle. We were teenagers. This is a business arrangement. Act like it.”

“Seventeen or twenty-seven. I don’t care. But for one minute, I wish you two would just be honest with me and admit you were together.”

Cameron raises to his full, impressive height, and I catch my breath, reaching my hand to rest on his forearm. He looks at me. I don’t know why I don’t want him to tell Lyle. It’s not because I’m ashamed. It’s because I’m not. Because of all the seriously fucked-up things that happened in my childhood and adolescence, Cameron Riggs and our relationship was not one of them. It was good. The highlight, even. The only glittering, magical bit, edging out even Boston cream donuts with my dad.

And I don’t want Lyle to touch it with his greasy suspicions.

“Please,” I whisper.

Cameron releases a slow breath, and for a half second, hurt flashes in his eyes, but almost as quick, it’s gone. He turns to Lyle.

“We don’t owe you anything. Take it or leave it.”

Lyle’s eyes dart between us and he shakes his head with an exasperated smirk. “Whatever. I don’t need you to confirm it. I know. I’ve always known. It’s fine. You’re what the network wants”—he points to me—“and he’s the only way I could get you to agree.” He points to Cam. “Which is pretty fucking telling, but you guys keep lying to yourselves.”