She stares at me, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Bottom line, we’re not dating,” I finish.

“Okay, um.” She points behind her, then almost runs away.

“Well, that was awkward,” I say, turning to Nick and expecting him to be relieved that she’s gone.

Instead, he looks back at me with anger and irritation.

“Whoa. You’re kinda Hulk-ing out over here,” I say.

“Because it would be so awful, right?” He raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“If someone assumed we were dating. Glad you set the record straight.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted me to lie to random rom-com fans!”

“You didn’t have to lie,” Nick says, shaking his head. “But you didn’t have to act like it’s such an unthinkable prospect.”

“I didn’t—”

He mutters, “This is like the article.”

I stiffen. “What article?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, are you not familiar? The one where you told a reporter we would never, ever be in a relationship? The one where you essentially told the entire world you couldn’t even fathom it?”

“That is not what I said, and I thought you only used the Internet to listen to playlists on music blogs for old men.”

“I have a Google Alert,” Nick mumbles. “On our names.”

“Uh, okay.” I throw my hands up in the air. “It’s not my fault you’re a fame-hungry monster. I don’t have a Google Alert for us. Who are you, Kim Kardashian?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Well, maybe you should get a Google Alert for her!” I almost shout.

We glare at each other. The crowd at the convention center has thinned out since it’s the end of the day, but the people disassembling their vegan muffin booth stare at us.

I break first. “Listen, we’re both tired and we’ve only had sugar and massive amounts of caffeine all day. Let’s go to the networking event and eat all the appetizers.”

“I am not networking,” Nick says, sounding so irritable that I drop the subject.

“Whatever. You’re being a cranky baby. Let’s go back to our rooms.”

“I’m not a baby,” Nick mutters, but he follows me anyway.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time we get to the check-in desk, after retrieving our bags from the truck in the parking garage, I’m fuming. And tired. And hungry. And ready for a hot bath and a fluffy bed and one of the five book options I brought.

I don’t feel the need to accompany Nick to the desk, so I sit down in a faux-leather chair in the lobby and check my phone. It’s a text from Annie, and I brace myself for a barrage of questions about my time with Nick.

Hey, how are things going with your dad? Is there anything I can do to help? Remember that we can always jettison the pom wall if you don’t have time!!!

I sigh and shove my phone back in my purse. I know Annie’s concerned about me, but she has enough to deal with right now, what with planning a wedding to a celebrity and growing said celebrity’s spawn in her womb. I’m not going to make her handle my problems, too.