We walked into the crowd of tourists and fell into the current of traffic flowing up the wooden boardwalk that served as a sidewalk.

“You know, you’ve held my hand in public before.”

“We weren’t together.” Because somehow that was different.

“Why would that matter?”

“It was one thing to mock everyone who can’t keep their thoughts to themselves, but it’s another to open you up to scrutiny when we’re actually in a relationship.”

“You know what makes relationships better?” she teased.

“Don’t start with me, Willow Bradley.”

“Can I finish with you?” She grinned up at me, happily tucked into my arm as we walked. “No? Later, then.”

We were in the full view of Alba. Lightning didn’t strike me dead. No one whispered or glared. The world didn’t stop turning.

Because it was the season and we were mixed in with a thousand tourists who didn’t give a shit who we were. We had the kind of freedom that only the anonymity of a crowd could give.

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Willow!”

So much for being anonymous.

Willow’s mom stood on the front steps of the original city hall and leaned over the railing to wave.

“Why don’t you go ahead—”

Willow’s arm locked on mine. “And go to see Mom with you?” She finished my sentence and shot me a look that dared me to correct her.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant.”

“No need to be sarcastic,” she chided. “If you can handle the Taliban, you can definitely hold your own against my mother.”

Given the way Mrs. Bradley was looking at me, I wasn’t so sure. Oh, she liked me all right. She just wasn’t sure she liked me with her daughter.

“Should have worn my Kevlar.”

Willow bumped me with her hip as we climbed the steps.

“I’m so glad you’re here. Your father had to step out for a second, and I could sure use your help. Hi, Camden.” She turned to me with a smile that actually reached her eyes. “Have you—?”

“Cam!” A figure darted from the doorway and crashed into my stomach.

My arm automatically wrapped around Rose. “How’s it going, Rosie?”

“I’m bored. Our building is boring.” She looked up at me with an expression so like Willow’s that I couldn’t help but grin.

“It’s not boring!” Mrs. Bradley argued. “It’s historic and important.”

“And boring,” Charity added as she walked onto the porch.

“Will you take me to yours?” Rose asked. “Mom said I couldn’t go until you got here. She thinks the crowd will swallow me.”

“If your mom’s cool with it, I’ll take you.” I looked over at Charity.