"I meant it, you know," Frederick said, cradling Lucy's head on his bare chest, toying with a curl of her hair. The room was dark and quiet. Raindrops tapped an unsteady rhythm against the window.

Lucy knew what he was referring to. "Come with me," he'd said.

"I know you meant it," said Lucy softly.

"And?"

"And I don't know."

Lucy listened to Frederick's heartbeat, strong and steady in his chest. It was a warm and gentle heart, and it was wrapped in a seriously attractive package. But it came with some major strings. Gigantic, snarled, ugly strings that took perverse delight in splashing the details of Frederick's personal life across supermarket tabloids and internet gossip sites around the planet.

She could feel Frederick tense at her admission of her ambivalence. What she said next would either bring them together, or tear them apart, quite possibly forever. The only middle ground, maintaining a long-distance relationship, was almost worse than saying goodbye. It pulled Lucy to pieces when they were separated by their schedules even while working in the same town.

"It's one thing to make 'us' work here, literally in the middle of nowhere," Lucy said, "But to be in the spotlight, to be constantly judged? I'm not sure I'm cut out for it."

"There are ways to make it easier, to live quietly. It's not so bad. Some parts can be fun," he said. He hooked a foot around hers under the covers, pulling that small part of her closer to him.

"It's a lot to think about," she said.

"Promise me that you will. Think about it."

"I promise," said Lucy, sealing her assurance with a kiss.

* * * * *

The next morning, Lucy was picking her stunning dress up from the floor when she saw something. She'd been in a hurry to get the dress on, and in an even bigger one to take it off, so she hadn't looked to closely at the inside.

When she spotted the name on the label, she gasped loudly, then picked the dress up like it was made of spun gold. Actually, spun gold was probably cheaper. And had a shorter waiting list. Lucy didn't follow high fashion all that closely, but even she had heard of this designer.

Frederick poked his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, wearing nothing but a towel low in his hips.

"Is that a real...?"

"Oh, that," Frederick said as casually as though one of the biggest designers on the planet was a neighbor who had loaned him a garden rake. "He owed me a favor. Did a nice job, don't you think?"

* * * * *

That afternoon, Lucy was into her second hour on the phone with Violet, trying to keep her friend from panicking, and failing miserably.

"Violet, you know babies aren't always exactly on time. You're fine, the baby's fine, the doctors aren't worried yet. Calm down."

"Calm down, ha! Don't tell me to calm down. I know when it's time to get freaked out and when it isn't. And this is definitely an 'is', Lu-Lu." Violet used Lucy's least favorite nick-name. That told Lucy that she was really upset.

"They're not talking about inducing for a couple more days. The baby could still come on its own any day. Any hour." Lucy was secretly beginning to hope that Violet would start having contractions this minuted if only to end this ceaseless phone call.

"Everybody says that induced labor is worse than regular labor, and regular labor is no day at the beach, from what I've heard."

"Have you given any more thought to an epidural?"

"I do not want them paralyzing me. Besides, what if it doesn't work? Or worse, what if it works too well?"

"And how many times does it go just fine?"

"Not the point."

"My point is that you're getting really worked up over what amounts to just one day."

"It's kind of an important one," Violet said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"But there will be lots more days. And not just for you. Everyone has something that they're struggling with. Some of it much bigger stuff than whether or not to take drugs during labor," Lucy said, her patience wearing thin.

"Oooo, poor Lucy, her hot movie star with the cool hair wants her to run away with him. Honey, I swear, if you don't take him up on that offer, I will."

* * * * *

The next few days were the happiest that Lucy could ever remember. After work at the clinic, Lucy would join Frederick on set, sitting and talking with him while he waited for his scenes, having private meals together in his trailer—actual meals, not "lunch"—and generally spending every possible moment together. They spent their nights together at his newly redecorated hotel room, lamenting the one-time nature of their gourmet room service, but making good use of Frederick's new furnishings.

Lucy noticed that Frederick got more attention than most other actors from the movie, and got dragged into several conversations, and had requests for the odd photo, but it wasn't too invasive. Frederick told Lucy that it had been worse when filming first started, but the attention had died down. Still, it was a constant reminder that the spotlight followed him wherever he went.

Lucy still hadn't given Frederick an answer about whether she would follow him when he left. She still didn't know. He seemed to understand that she needed time to figure out what she wanted and hadn't brought it up again, but the question hung unspoken between them more often than not.

Lucy had been home so infrequently that it was a full day after the birth of Violet's baby before Lucy heard the ecstatic message Violet left on her answering machine (Kestrel Rosaline Herbertson, eight pounds, six ounces, no induction, well-received epidural, father arrived on time). Lucy felt like an awful friend, but Violet was so enraptured with her new arrival, and so sleep deprived, that she didn't notice Lucy's delay in returning her call. Lucy privately felt that 'Kestrel' wasn't her favorite name ever, but anything less flamboyant wouldn't have suited Violet at all. Though Lucy did wonder how many people were wandering around the planet with strange names because their mothers had named them before they'd completely recovered from the exertions of labor.

Violet came home when the baby was two days old, and Lucy took Frederick with her to meet the new family. She stood on the stoop of Violet's house, one hand knocking on the green door, the other entwined in Frederick's hand. Colton answered the door and Violet, dressed in housecoat and slippers, stood behind him with a pink bundle in her arms. Lucy made the introductions and Frederick shook Colton's hand.

Violet raised her eyes from her baby long enough to say, "Hey, hiya, Fred," before summoning Lucy to the nursery with her.

"Hold her for a sec, will you?" Violet asked when they were alone, placing the sleeping Kestrel in Lucy's waiting arms. Lucy had never seen a baby this new before. Little Kestrel was red-faced and angry looking, and had scratched the side of her tiny cheek several times. But Lucy thought she was adorable just the same.

"Hold her head," Violet warned, sticking her hands inside her bra and pulling out two white disks.

"Soaked through another pair of nursing shields," Violet sighed. She searched for the box of replacements. "I was about to leak through my clothes in front of your new man. Very nice, by the way." Disks found, Violet, remembering her modesty, turned her back to Lucy to put them in place. "You know those old fountains of a smiling girl with water shooting from her knockers? I'm starting to think that they were inspired by real life."

Lucy laughed, as she knew Violet wanted her to. "Other than the waterworks, how are you feeling?"

"Like I ran a double marathon and the prize was getting kicked in the butt by a horse. But less each day." Violet took the baby from Lucy. "I would seriously consider selling my soul to sleep for three whole hours in a row, though."

They made their way back to the living room. Lucy smiled when she saw Colton light up at the return of his new daughter, even though she'd only been away for four minutes, tops.

"How's the new dad?" Lucy asked.

"Awesome," said Colton, helping Violet seat herself in the recliner. "And terrified. And amazed. But mostly awesome. Violet's been incredible." Violet rewarded Colton with a look of pure gratitude.

"Frederick, is that gift bag nearby?" Lucy asked.

"Right here," Frederick said. He reached behind the couch and passing a bear-and-rocking-horse patterned bag, tied with a pink ribbon, to Violet. "Congratulations, Violet. She's beautiful," he said.

Violet beamed at Frederick. "Thank you," she said without a trace of her usual snark.

"Open it," Lucy prompted.

Violet untied the ribbon and pulled out a miniature Aran sweater and matching hat.

"Oh my gosh," Violet cooed. "Lucy, did you make these?"

"I did. White to match your nursery. And because you refused to find out what you were having before she was born."

"Thank you," said Violet, reaching her arms towards Lucy. Lucy stepped into them to receive her waiting hug. When she let go, she saw Violet wiping tears from her eyes.

"Stupid hormones. And I thought being pregnant was bad."

Kestrel started squirming in Violet's arms and making a sad noise that wasn't quite a cry. When Violet announced that the baby was hungry, Lucy and Frederick said their goodbyes, not wanting to tire the exhausted Violet any further.

* * * * *

Two nights later, Lucy was sleeping in her own bed, Frederick's arm draped across her chest. She had requested a night at home, claiming that her laundry situation was approaching critical.

"We should definitely spend the night at your place, then," Frederick had said. He'd put his hands on her hips and pulled her close, wordlessly telling her what he thought they should do if she ran out of things to wear.

Lucy woke in the morning to the sound of her land-lady shouting a stream of obscenities outside her window.

"Go, on! Get! Flippin' parasites, you've got no business being here. Get lost!" came Janelle's voice.

Lucy had never heard her so infuriated. She was wondering if raccoons had made a mess of the garbage again when she heard tires crunching on the gravel as a vehicle pulled away from the house.

Lucy scrambled out of bed, hopped into a pair of jeans and pulled a sweatshirt over her head as she ran for the door, stopping only long enough to stick her feet into a pair of flip-flops.

Lucy found Janelle standing in the dappled morning sunlight at the head of the driveway, fists clenched and chest heaving.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked.

Janelle whirled, ready for more trouble. She spotted Lucy and relaxed her fists.

"Lucy, you should have stayed inside."

"What is it? What's going on?" Lucy was getting more worried by the second. Janelle was hard to ruffle. Something had to be very wrong to upset her this much. Lucy scanned the driveway and surrounding yard, but saw no signs of anything amiss.

Frederick burst from Lucy's front door and ran down the stairs two at a time, wearing only jeans and shoes.

Janelle blinked at him, then turned back to Lucy. "I was going to tell you sooner, but you haven't been here much," she said.

"Tell me what?" Lucy asked, impressing herself with how much calm she was showing.

"This is the third time that one of those nasty photographers has been here, trying to take pictures of you and him," Janelle said, inclining her head in Frederick's direction. "This is the first time you were here when they were."

Lucy heard her blood whooshing in her ears and suddenly found herself sitting on the gravel driveway. Before she could puzzle out how she'd gotten there, Frederick was kneeling in front of her asking something she couldn't make out. He faced Janelle, his mouth moving but his words lost to the noise in her head. Janelle hurried inside her apartment.

Frederick pushed Lucy's head forward until it was drooping awkwardly between her knees. The roaring quieted to a sound like wind in the distance. Or maybe mocking laughter from a crowd of people. Janelle reappeared carrying a glass of something golden brown and pressed it into Lucy's hand. Apple juice, she realized, after taking a sip. Two more sips and Lucy was able to sit up straight again.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. I really freaked out. God, I'm so embarrassed," Lucy said, hugging her knees.

"Don't you dare be sorry. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me," said Frederick, sitting splay-legged just behind her, rubbing her shoulders.

"Are you ready to go in now?"

"Yes."

"Slowly," Frederick said. He helped her to her feet, then walked up the stairs with her. Once she was settled on the couch, he ran back out, saying that he wanted a word with Janelle.

Lucy slouched down until she was lying full-length on the faded red leather, then wiggled a little further to avoid hitting the hard seam at the edge of a cushion with her tailbone.

Bringing their relationship out into the public had gone so seamlessly that Lucy had forgotten Squirrel Falls was only a microscopic fragment of the population. It had only been a matter of time until the real world leaked in.

Frederick reappeared a few moments later.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, crouching beside her.

"Okay now. Just hungry, I think. We didn't make it to dinner last night, and we burned kind of a lot of calories after that."

"Ah. Right. Sorry."

Frederick disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee, then with two steaming bowls of instant oatmeal topped with the local blueberries that Lucy had bought yesterday.

After breakfast, Lucy felt much better. Better enough to be disappointed by Frederick covering his glorious torso with a shirt.

"What did you talk to Janelle about?" she asked, remembering Frederick's brief absence.

"I gave her my number at the hotel and another number on set. I asked her to leave a message if she caught sight of any photographers here, and reminded her to call the police rather than confront them herself."

"What did she say?"

"She laughed at me and told me that there are exactly two police officers covering twenty thousand square kilometers up here and that she knew how to look after herself. But she did promise to call if she saw anything. For your sake, not hers. She was quite clear on that point." Frederick gathered up their now empty blue floral bowls and took them to the kitchen. He poured another cup of coffee for himself but Lucy refused a refill. She felt jangled enough as it was.

"Can you tell me what bothered you so?" Frederick asked, sitting beside her on the couch, pulling her head onto his shoulder and putting his feet up on her coffee table.

"Photographers here at my house? It's like the Boss Banging Bozo all over again, but on an even bigger scale. Like, enormous."

"Except this time you have nothing to be ashamed of." He gave her a little squeeze. "We are consenting adults in a monogamous relationship. We don't have anything to hide."

"That's not the point. I'm not ashamed of being with you. I'm so proud and I feel so special that I get to call you mine. But I still don't want to be a topic of conversation among strangers."

Frederick took Lucy's hand, lacing and unlacing his fingers from hers. Lucy began tracing the lines on his long palm with a finger.

"I'm uncomfortable with the whole thing," Lucy said. Like the dream about showing up to school naked was uncomfortable, but it was really happening. "Is it worse? In your everyday life?" she asked.

Frederick was silent for a long moment. He watched the progress of Lucy's finger up and down his hand. She suspected that he was trying to decide whether to sugarcoat his answer.

"The truth?" he said at last. "Yes."

Lucy sighed. The sugarcoated version didn't seem so unappealing anymore.