As I went to kiss him, our hat brims knocked together, and a gust of wind blew mine clean off my head. My hair tumbled out, and I pushed up my sunglasses to keep it out of my face as I searched around for my lucky cap.

“Here you go,” said a teen girl from one row up, who’d caught it on the stairs. I turned to thank her, and saw her eyes widen.

“Has anyone ever told you…” she said, then she looked past my shoulder and her mouth dropped open even wider. “You ARE her. You’re THEM.”

Oops.

Nick and I met eyes. He shrugged. Then he took off his cap and waved.

I turned back to the girl. “Thanks,” I said. “I guess I need a better disguise next time.”

“Can I get a photo?” she stammered.

“Officially, I’m not allowed,” I said regretfully. “But I also can’t control what you do when I’m not standing next to you, so.…” I shrugged theatrically, and we exchanged smiles. I made a point of staring at the field from a favorable angle for her—with any luck, she’d sell the photo for college money—before trundling back to my seat.

“What now?” I asked helplessly.

Nick put an arm around me. “Now we watch your Cubs win and worry about the rest later,” he said.

The low murmur in our section swept around the stadium. Twitter knew by the third pitch of the seventh inning. A roving TV camera had crept toward us by the time the Cubs got the second out. When the chords of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” sounded during the stretch, I shot Nick a panicked look.

“Dad always said it was against our religion not to sing,” I hissed.

Nick stood and held out his hand. “Then by all means don’t piss off the powers that be.”

Our whole section was staring at me, and I finally stood and gave them all a look like, How can I resist? The Jumbotron stuck with me for the entire final verse, and by the time I counted out one, two, three strikes you’re out, I was laughing too hard to sing the last line audibly. The crowd whooped and I took a sweeping bow. Nick hugged me to his side.

“So much for doing this the regular way,” I said.

“It’s still bloody fun,” Nick said. “Oooh, look, now we’re on some kind of kissing camera.”

I glanced up, and sure enough, they’d slapped the Kiss Cam graphic on our faces as a chant rose up through the stadium. I pretended to think about it, and then planted one right on Nick’s lips. When I pulled away, he shook his head in mock disapproval and then dipped me just as he had on the Buckingham Palace balcony. The cheers were deafening.