“No,” I said with a sigh. “But I will be. I might have to stay inside for the rest of the courtship if it’s going to be like this, Wes. I’m not sure I can handle this kind of shit being thrown at me every day. I know it’s just headlines and I know they don’t matter—”

“But it doesn’t make people screaming your worst fears at you any easier.”

I looked at him, the question in my eyes.

“It’s different with Eva,” he said quietly. “Different questions, but they still manage to pick at the things which bother her. I don’t know how they manage it. They’re a bunch of industrious psychopaths.”

A laugh burst out of me. “That’s the best description of paparazzi I’ve ever heard.”

“If you want to stay at the pack’s home until you decide, we can certainly help you move your studio equipment to their house if it’s easier.”

“That’s nice of you.”

He chuckled. “It might be overstepping, Miss Williams, but I’ve known you a long time. You’re probably not surprised how much we know and have seen, and you have good reasons for every hesitation. But though it might not be my place to care about you, I do. We all do. And I would hate to see industrious psychopaths derail the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“Thank you, Wes.”

I didn’t think about it a lot, but Wes had been with us for the better part of my life, working for my father before he switched to Eva’s—and occasionally my—security.

We pulled up at Aurelia’s, and blissfully there were no paps because they didn’t know I was here yet. I was sure there would be a swarm by the time I left, given Eva and I would be in the same place at the same time. Since the way was clear, there was no point in using the back entrance like Mom asked.

“Think about it,” he said as he ushered me inside. “If you need to move things, we’ll help you.”

“I will think about it.”

On the one hand, having my studio at the pack’s house sounded nice. And on the other hand, I felt it was important to keep my own space. Not as a reservation in case things went wrong, but just for some distance if I needed it. I’d been single and alone for twenty-eight years. Almost twenty-nine. I was sure I would need time-outs now and then.

But then, there wasn’t anything saying I couldn’t go back to my house as a studio once everything was settled one way or another.

“Name?” The maître d’ asked without looking up.

“Esme Williams. I’m meeting my mother, but I doubt she’s arrived yet.”