Page 71 of Never Date a Celebrity

Imogen wasn’t sure how good the photo was, but she pressed the button anyway and handed the phone back. If it was as blurry as her mind was, they probably weren’t going to be happy. Though she had been careful to keep the Wishing Well out of the frame. They didn’t need an image to go with the headline.

“So good to meet you, ladies,” Amy said, subtly stepping away and returning to Imogen’s side.

“You’re amazing. We fucking love you.”

Amy just laughed and waved as she led Imogen away from the pub, back up the alley the way they’d come.

“I’m sorry about that. It happens sometimes.”

“My fault. I never should’ve suggested coming out.” See, this was why they stayed holed up in Imogen’s apartment. Their relationship could so easily end up being the following day’s big news. Honestly, what had she expected?

Amy looked at her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

No, she was not okay. She was freaking out. Big time. And it wasn’t Amy’s fault because Imogen knew who she was, and she had risked being seen together anyway. That was on her. But that didn’t mean the panic and conflict inside her head were any easier to tamp down. “I’m fine,” she lied.

Imogen had never been so relieved as when they stepped through the back door of the Wishing Well and into the safety of the hallway. No screaming fans would find them there. Not unless Piper and Niamh made an appearance. God, the whole thing was crazy. That was why she had been trying so hard not to think and just be—but who was she kidding? Imogen was a thinker at her core.

They walked quietly up the stairs and into Imogen’s apartment, where Imogen excused herself to go to the bathroom. She closed the toilet lid and sat down on top of it, getting lost in the blue of the tiles she once hated but had since grown oddly fond of. If only everything else in life was as easy to overcome as bad tiles.

She loved Amy. And Amy loved her. That’s what she should be focusing on. But wasn’t it so typical that the bad stuff always eclipsed the good, no matter how good the rest of it was?

Imogen’s problem wasn’t Amy. It wasn’t Amelia Whitlock. It wasn’t celebrities at all, really. Imogen’s problem was herself.

How had she even got here? Her life had been fine before. It had been safe and comfortable. She’d had a stable job back in Belfast. She’d had her little flat above the dodgy Chinese takeaway that she’d made into a home for herself. She’d had peace and privacy, which after Chelsea had become the most precious things to her. Because during and after that relationship, Imogen’s life had been catapulted into turmoil. She had been stripped of all the basic things she held so dear. And she’d worked damn hard to get them back, to get herself back.

And now? Now she was living in the middle of the country, running a pub she hadn’t a clue about, and dating a woman who could dismantle all of her peace and privacy in an instant. Only this time, it wouldn’t be like it had been with Chelsea. No, this time it would be on the biggest scale imaginable. And again, none of it was Amy’s fault. Imogen had let herself get to this point. And now she didn’t know what to do about it. Whatever she chose, she was going to lose something. Lose Amy or lose herself.

Amy was waiting nervously on the sofa when Imogen came back out of the bathroom. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been. Probably a while.

“Those girls wouldn’t have known we were together,” Amy said when Imogen sat down. She had clearly been thinking about the encounter downstairs. But this was so much more than that.

Imogen took Amy’s hand. “I know. But someone will, sometime.”

Amy didn’t argue. She couldn’t argue.

“I’m not going to come to the party after all,” Imogen said, her gaze fixed on the floor. She couldn’t look at Amy when she said it. But she also couldn’t go.

“Okay. No party.”

“But I love you,” Imogen said. Because Amy’s palm was sweating, and she was trying so hard to seem okay with this. And Imogen needed her to know that she really did love her.

“I love you too.” Amy gave a tight-lipped smile, clearly still worried sick. “Are we okay?”

“I don’t know,” Imogen said honestly. She wished she could put Amy at ease, but she couldn’t. “But I do love you,” she said again. That was all she could say because it was all she knew. There were no other answers to give.

Amy nodded faintly. “I do love you too.”

Amy still stayed. But things had got awkward real fast. Even when they went to bed that night, they both seemed weighed down by everything neither of them knew how to fix. Every move was stilted.

It was the first night they didn’t make love. They shared a kiss. They held each other—in fact, they held on for dear life like they would never do it again.

Imogen slept on and off. Each time she woke up, she looked at Amy for a few seconds, her heart swelling every time. She yearned to reach out and touch her, but if Amy woke, what would she do? So she looked away again and let the dread of what could happen fill her, over and over.

In the morning, she got up early and dropped Amy back at the hotel like she did every other morning. Only it didn’t feel like any of the other mornings at all. The car journey itself was painfully silent.

“Will I see you tonight?” Amy asked before she got out of the car.

Imogen hesitated. “Maybe not tonight. I, um, really need to do my bit in the bar. I’ve been leaving Piper and Niamh to it lately. And we’ve that big booking, so…” It wasn’t not true.