Ethan nods a few times, left and right, smiles and shakes a man’s hand.

“If we move fast enough, we can survive this without any major scars,” he says quietly.

But it’s pretty crowded and it’s not like you can make a run for it. We have to go from one side to the other of the room.

“Ethan,” I hear a woman’s voice behind us.

He stops short. “There might be some scars after all,” he whispers in my ear, his mouth so close to my face, I instinctively pull back.

“Dinah,” he says and hugs a woman in her sixties, with silver-white hair up in a fancy bun, long dangling earrings that sparkle in the chandeliers’ pale lights, and a long black dress.

“I’m so glad you could make it. Cameron will be so happy you came to his premiere. He’s somewhere around. You know, doing the rounds.”

Ethan smiles. A different kind of smile than his usual. It reminds me of his expression in that photo at the awards ceremony, with his ex. It’s stiff, pained a bit.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it. Thank you for inviting—” He stops. “Us.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, and now her attention is on me, her dark eyes drilling through me like I’m in an X-ray machine. “Who’s your lovely friend?”

“This is Maya,” he says.

“Maya? The famous Maya? I’m so glad to finally meet you. What an absolute pleasure. I didn’t know you two—”

Ethan squeezes my arm and looks me in the eye, as if saying, ‘just go with it. Play along.’

I don’t know what I’m playing at, but I’ll do it.

“I have to tell Cameron about this,” she says. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Ethan lets out a loud sigh when she leaves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. It’s my fault.”

“What was that all about? Did she think I was someone else?”

“Yes. No. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on our way back, but for now, please, just be—”

“Maya?”

He smiles. “Yes.”

“I think I can do that.”

“And, whatever I say or do, just, you know, it’s part of this—”

“Charade you’re pulling?”

“Sort of.”

He barely finishes his words when Dinah returns with a man, about her age, equally elegant. Behind them is a guy with a camera and a long lens, the ones Mason used for sporting events rather than social gatherings.

Cameron, who is two heads taller than Ethan and much more solid, lunges at Ethan and squeezes him in a bear hug.

“Ethan, son,” he says, his baritone voice attracting curious glances.

I pull at Ethan’s sleeve. “He’s your father?”

I’m surprised—shocked—and I sound like it.

He turns to me and whispers, “He just calls me that. Another long story.”

“Thank you for coming and bringing along your beautiful lady. We’ve heard so much about you, Maya,” the man says to me and grins.

I smile. It’s a fake, forced smile, but I’m doing the best that I can with the little I know.