John and Clementine were eventually discovered by some fans, but they were surprisingly polite, maybe because they were in a museum. They asked if they could have selfies with him, and wanted autographs on their phone cases.

John obliged on the selfies, asking only that they not post where they were taken until the next day.

"Sure, no problem," one of the girls replied. "Totally understand, you don't want to get mobbed here at the museum."

"Exactly. My friend and I want to enjoy the beautiful art."

None of the girls was brave enough to ask who Clementine was. She just stood off to the side, watching the interaction.

After he was finished, John returned to her side. "Well, maybe we should get out of here," he said, looking around. "I think we've seen most of the major works, anyway."

"Are you afraid the girls won't keep their word?"

John shook his head. "Not exactly, but they won't be able to resist telling a few of their friends what happened, that's all. I don't blame them, but our cover's blown." He held out a hand to her. "What do you say we grab a late lunch somewhere?"

"What, out in public?"

John shrugged. "I think we'll be okay."

"Sure, I'm starving."

"What do you feel like?" John asked as he drove.

"I'll eat anything, you know me."

John gave her an exasperated look. "I know you will, but what do you want? I want you to eat what you want at this moment, okay? I want you to be happy."

"Oh, John." Clementine's voice was soft with surprise. "I am happy, just to be with you. But if you really want to know, I could go for some Mexican, how's that?"

John reached for her hand and kissed it. "Much better. Let's go find some Mexican, then."

Once they were settled in a booth and had ordered margaritas, John smiled at Clementine.

She smiled back, saying, "So, today was pretty marvelous, wasn't it? Just kicking around together, looking at the paintings, no hiding?"

John looked surprised. "I was just going to say that I was pretty frustrated with today, not being able to hold your hand or put my arm around you? Damned paps and fans crawling all over the place." He sounded bitter, but gave himself a shake, smiling again at Clementine. "Sorry to sound like such a Moaning Myrtle." He put his hand over hers where it rested on the table. "That's one of the things I really love about you, though, how you put a positive spin on everything."

Clementine rolled her eyes. "Come on, Johnny, anyone would say today was pretty spectacular. We even got to make out in the men's room at the Getty, now how many people can say that?"

John laughed. "I suppose you're right. So what was your favorite piece? Of all that we saw today?"

John watched her as she described the painting she liked best, using her hands for emphasis, and was once again in danger of being carried away by her beauty. Her brown eyes sparkled with lively interest as she made slipping, tilting motions with her hands to illustrate the importance of something in the painting. Her dark hair swished over one shoulder as she turned her head to take a drink of her margarita, and she impatiently pushed it back.

"I love you with your hair down," John told her. "I absolutely adore it."

Clementine smiled. "I know," she answered, smiling down into her drink. "That's why I wore it this way today. I don't usually bother to have it down, but I was hoping you'd like it."

"Well, I do."

John was startled by the feeling of something touching his leg. It was Clementine's foot, out of her shoe, rubbing up his calf in a most alluring way.

"Well, what have we here?" John asked with a chuckle. "Someone's feeling very brave today."

"There's no bravery involved," Clementine responded, snaking her foot nearly all the way up to his knee inside the pant leg. "The table cloth hides our legs from the room, so there's no chance of being spotted or photographed."

"I meant brave in a more general sense," John explained. "The Clementine I met a few months ago would never have done what you're doing, you must admit that."

"Just feeling a little friendly, I suppose," Clementine said with a grin.

Their food arrived, and they dug in.

Clementine kept up her activities with her foot, much to John's discomfiture.

"Clem, please!" he finally said with a laugh as he put his fork down. "I'm finding it difficult to enjoy my food while you're, erm, doing what you're doing down there."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. It's making me excited, which is very distracting while trying to eat."

"Really?" Clementine sounded disbelieving. "You're getting excited, just from my fucking foot?"

"It's a very sexy foot, darling, and yes, things are definitely happening below the belt, so if you wouldn't mind ceasing and desisting until I've finished my meal, I'd greatly appreciate it." John raised an eyebrow at her .

Clementine raised an eyebrow back, but nodded, continuing to grin. "Okay, I'll stop, but only because you ask so nicely."

They continued to eat and talk about their day, until suddenly John put his fork down. "Bollocks!"

"What?"

"We're being recorded," John told her, gesturing with his head.

Clementine turned to look, and, sure enough, a girl was holding her phone up in their direction, red light blinking.

"What should we do?" she asked. "Should you go over there and talk to her, ask her to stop?"

John shook his head. "No, interaction with me is what she wants, that would only be rewarding bad behavior, so to speak."

"So?"

"There's not much to be done except to give her a dirty look and ignore her, unfortunately," he told her.

"John, don't let some rude fan ruin our good time, okay?" Clementine asked. "I'm not bothered by her, if that makes a difference."

"It does make a difference, thank you," John told her, smiling. "I'm glad you're such a happy person."

"Why wouldn't I be happy?" Clementine countered. "I'm here with you."

"God, I wish I could kiss you right now," John responded, grabbing her hand below the table and turning his head so it was at an oblique angle to the girl recording them. "You're the best thing to happen to me, probably ever, in my entire life."

"Me, too, Johnny. Meeting you is the best thing to ever happen to me."

"Turn your head when you talk, darling."

"Why?" Clementine asked as she did as she was told. "It's not like she's close enough to hear me, right?"

"Right, but sometimes these people aren't beyond hiring lip readers to figure out what we're saying."

"What?" Clementine's voice was thin with shock. "Even a private conversation like this?"

John nodded. "Usually it's paps who do that, though."

"So if I were to turn my head like this and say that you're right, she's a very rude young woman, that would be cool?" Clementine was careful to enunciate and exaggerate the movements of her mouth.

John laughed and turned his head so he, too, could be seen clearly. "I'd say you're right, she's very rude, and has appalling manners."

"And my name is Jemima Puddleduck, and I'm, um, your interior designer."

John laughed again. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Puddleduck."

They carried on this way for a few minutes, when, much to their mutual relief, the girl put away her camera and her party left.

"That's definitely going to show up somewhere," John told Clementine with a chuckle.

Clementine shrugged. "So let it."

"It's easy for you to be so cavalier about it, it hasn't happened to you a hundred thousand times.

"You're right, you're right, I can't imagine how terrible to live your life under such a microscope."

Again, John felt her socked foot sliding up his calf, distracting him from what they were talking about.

"You little—" John was speechless with delight.

"What? I'm a little what?" Clementine asked innocently. She rubbed his calf with her toe.

"I'll tell you later," John said, shaking his head. "For now, let's blow this taco stand, as you Yanks are wont to say, and go someplace more private."

"Like your house?"

"Like my house, yes, sounds absolutely brilliant."

John paid and they left the restaurant, but the girl was waiting for them outside with her friends.

"Johnny, could we get a picture with you, please?"

John sighed and walked to where the girls were waiting, leaving Clementine standing alone.

"Look, I'm just trying to have a quiet dinner with a friend, now's not a good time, yeah? Thanks for understanding."

"Johnny, I love you, please can I get a picture?"

"I love you guys as well, but please respect my wishes. This isn't a good time. Thank you." He turned and walked away, back to Clementine. He began to reach for her hand but stopped himself just in time, and they continued to walk toward his car.

The girls followed them, with the same girl pulling out her phone to record them walking.

They had to actually get in the car and drive away before they could leave the girls behind.

"For fuck's sake!" John shouted inside the car, hitting the steering wheel. "Can they not just let me bloody live?"

"Johnny, calm down, please," Clementine implored. "We're so happy, and having such a good time, don't let them spoil it, okay?"

John looked over at her, touched by her concern. "You're right, Ms. Puddleduck, I shouldn't let them get in my head."

"Absofuckinglutely," Clementine said encouragingly. "You own yourself, you control the narrative, and you handled them just right, I think." She settled back in her seat.

The sun was just going down in a glorious collage of blues and oranges. "Now let's go back to your place and watch a movie, okay?"

"Sounds stellar." He leaned toward her, so she leaned also and they kissed as he pointed his car toward his beach house. "I love you, Clem."

Clementine looked out the window at the sunset before turning to look at him. "I love you, too, John."