I drop my pose and any semblance of decency to fight with my dress, trying to push it down against the wind while balancing two-footed now on the too-narrow fountain edge. Eventually, I get the fabric locked between my thighs in the front and can hold the back down with my hands. Arielle runs over, holding a hand out, trying not to laugh.

“Need help getting down?”

I shake my head, not willing to let go of the back of my white skirt, which feels wet from the fountain’s mist. Great, now that I’ve gotten it down over my ass, it’s probably gone sheer from the moisture. I hop down to laughter and applause, and deciding, like Jane Eyre, that I’d rather be happy than dignified, I bow dramatically.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“Damn!” Eli says in awe, scanning through the photos on the screen. “Would you look at that?”

Now that the show is over, I can also hear some whispering pearl-clutchers nearby, but I ignore them to rush over to see the photo. At my side, Arielle whistles.

I look Marilyn Monroe-esque, my hands trying to push down my billowing dress with the water arcing up behind me. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look awkward but instead classy, old-school sexy, and pretty. In the background, the bright spring sky, the water, and the trees of the park make it look almost like a postcard.

The more I stare at it, the more I like it.

It strikes the perfect tone, quirky and fun! The perfect photo to post, too, because it’s so spontaneous and kooky.

“I love it!” I breathe in awe at my luck of getting such an awesome shot. “I’m going to have to frame this!”

Eli nods and adds, “Maybe the whole series.” He scans left a few shots, and I watch the progression of my posed shot, the shock of the water coming on, a picture with my panties on full display, me fighting with my skirt, and then the iconic Marilyn pose. The last shot is one of me giving in to the craziness and smiling widely as I laugh out loud, my eyes closed and my face lifted to the sun.

He’s right, the whole series is . . . me. Riley Sunshine. And also, really me, Riley Watson.

“Congratulations, honeychops.” Eli has the worst terms of endearment, but this one makes me chuckle.

I grin, touching the screen to zoom in on my smile. The post is already writing itself in my head. Something about inspiring people, their giving my life a purpose, and appreciation for what we’ve built together. And most of all? Excitement over what the future holds.

Arielle hugs my shoulders. “I can see that you’re already working in your head, and I’ve got to get back to work myself. But we’re on for Friday.” She points to me and then Eli, not asking us but telling us. After we nod our agreement, she makes quick strides down the street to get back to the nursing home where she works.

Eli watches her every step.

“What’s up with that?” I ask, not needing to be any more specific than that because it’s obvious where his mind is.

“Just thinking we’re not kids anymore,” he says contemplatively.

“You sound like you want to settle down,” I answer quietly, making a big leap about his thoughts.

“I’m not searching for it, but if it happens, it happens,” Eli says. “I’ve got a mortgage, for God’s sake. Who the hell thought I was a good bet for a six-figure loan?” He presses a hand to his chest over his hundred-dollar dress shirt, his gold watch glinting in the sun.

I grin. “Uh, your boss? You’ve come a long way, baby.”

“Maybe that’s what you need too?”

“A mortgage?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. “No, thanks. One of my goals is to buy my first house ‘cash on the barrel’, as Daddy says. I’m fine with apartment life until then.”

“I won’t even go into that with you,” Eli says, forgoing the lecture on smart financials to stay on track with his current advice train. “But what I mean is, you’re not just the happy girl on Instagram anymore. You’re a legit business. You’re a brand, Riley Sunshine. And maybe what you need isn’t Mr. Right Now, but Mr. Right.” It seems he’s turning around from his earlier declaration that dick is all I need.

That’s a lot of pressure, especially considering I only just decided that maybe I could start dating. I choose to deflect, giving myself time to think on that later. “And did you find Mr. or Miss Right this past weekend? Or the weekend before that?” I ask pointedly, and Eli shakes his head.

“Nope . . . but damn if it wasn’t fun. Do you know how good a big ol’ eight-inch . . .” He grins big and broad, the eternally inappropriate jokester holding his hands out wide, but I see his eyes tick down the street after Arielle before landing back on me.

“Lemme stop you right there. I don’t need the details right now, especially since we’re in public.”

Eli looks around and agrees. “Point taken,” he says, ignoring that I’d flashed my panties to the people around us moments ago. But he wags his brows and adds, “You know you’re already imagining it anyway.”

I swat at his shoulder, grinning. “Well, now I am.”

He feigns pain at my wimpy slap, holding a hand over his shoulder. “Watch it, tiger. No need to get all feisty on my account.” He rawrs and scratches at the air like a giant cat.

“You’re a sweetheart, Eli, you know that?” I say genuinely. He flips between light-hearted and insightful, giving me just enough to think on but also letting me have time to marinate the seeds he plants.

Eli laughs and slings an arm around my shoulder. “You know it, honeychops. I’m sweet, and you’re sunshine. Now you just need to find your other half.”

“If he’s out there.”

Eli nods, and we start heading out of the park. “You know, maybe instead of looking for more sunshine, you need a Yin to your Yang.”

“Gloomy? Negative Nicky?”

“I was thinking more moonlight to your sunlight, you know?”

I nudge Eli in the ribs. “You’re a wise man.”

“Hell, I know that. Life would be much, much better if the whole world just listened to me. Financial security and sexual satisfaction, all rolled up in one sexy as fuck package.” His cockiness and jokes cover his true desire to help.

“Maybe. But if you’re sweet and I’m sunshine, what does that make Arielle?” I ask, tiptoeing back into deeper waters curiously.

“Great question, Miss Sunshine. That is definitely a great question.” Eli shakes his head as though he can rattle an answer out of the cobwebs lurking in the corners of his mind. But Eli is way too neat and tidy for any dust or dirt—in his mind or his life. He examines every corner, every possibility and opportunity before committing. Whether it’s a mortgage, a mutual fund, a second date, or . . . more.

“See you Friday night?” I offer.

“You know it. I’ll bring the wine, as always.” Eli has much better taste in wine than either me or Arielle, who would happily pop a twisty straw in a box of Franzia and sip it like an adult Capri Sun, so wine is his self-given assignment.

“I’ll make sure I’ve got clean wine glasses and a charcuterie board for us to nibble on.”

Eli blinks slowly, surprised. “Listen to you, fancy-pants. Did you say charcuterie?”