Galen
“We should get masks, there’s a little activity with masks.” Clarissa suggested. I sighed; she does think we are married.
I quickened my pace towards the area, and to my surprise, she kept up quite well. She likely needed those photographs of us together, as my publicist had speculated, particularly the ones showing us in proximity, to solidify the false narrative of our marriage she painted during her interview. I stopped the only way she could have accomplished that by being alone on the red carpet.
“This one would suit you better,” She picked out a blue eye mask.
“I’d pass.”
She quickly picked out a gold one. “This one, let me try it on.”
I sneered at her effort. “You shouldn’t really try to help a disabled man with two working arms. I can try it on myself. I fear I migh
