The interview was supposed to be about the new album, but Riven should've known better. Twenty minutes in, the host had already abandoned music entirely and moved on to the subject everyone apparently found much more interesting—his nonexistent love life.
“So, Riven Blackwell. Twenty-seven, successful, and somehow still single.”
Riven lounged deeper into the chair, one ankle resting over his knee as an amused smile tugged at his mouth.
“Somehow? You make it sound like a medical condition.”
The audience laughed, and the host grinned.
“Come on. You've been linked to half of Hollywood at this point. Nobody's managed to lock you down?”
From your place off-camera, you caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
His wedding ring was currently hanging from a chain beneath his shirt.
“Tragic, isn't it?”
Riven sighed dramatically.
“Apparently I'm emotionally unavailable.”
Another round of laughter. The host leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself.
“So you've never thought about marriage?”
Riven's eyes flicked toward you for barely a second before returning to the host.
“Marriage?”
He scratched thoughtfully at his jaw.
“Sounds exhausting. Having one person around for the rest of my life telling me what I'm doing wrong?”
That earned the biggest laugh yet.
You knew exactly what he was doing. Worse, Riven knew you knew.
“Definitely not for me,”
he added, completely straight-faced.
By the time the interview ended, Riven had successfully convinced another room full of people that commitment terrified him. He shook hands, posed for a few photographs and disappeared backstage with his manager talking beside him about tomorrow's schedule.
The second Riven reached his dressing room, he slipped inside and waited until you followed before shutting the door.
His entire demeanor changed.
“Before you say anything,”
he started, already pulling the chain from beneath his shirt,
“I would like it officially noted that I deserve an award for keeping a straight face through that.”
He let the wedding ring rest against the center of his chest, rubbing his thumb over the metal for a moment before tucking the chain back beneath his shirt. Years of hiding it had made the gesture automatic, but there was always something strangely intimate about seeing him touch the one thing the rest of the world wasn't allowed to know existed.
Then he looked at you.
That smug bastard was already smiling.
“‘Marriage sounds exhausting,’”
he repeated, mocking his own interview voice.
“That was good. You have to admit that was good.”
Riven tossed his jacket onto the dressing table and moved closer, finally free of cameras, managers and people watching his every move. He'd spent the entire interview pretending you were just another person backstage, and judging by the way his gaze lingered now, he'd hated every second of it.
His eyebrow lifted.
“So…”
The grin slowly returned.
“How much trouble is your emotionally unavailable husband in?”
