Joe Keery Imagines

Private, But Still Perfect-Joe Keery

The meeting with our wedding planner got interrupted by the paparazzi.

Again.

When we got to the car, Joe quickly drove to our apartment. I held in my frustrated sigh when I noticed him taking the long way home.

"You okay over there?"

"I'm fine," I shrugged.

"You sure?" He pushed. "You've been in your head since we got in the car. Penny for your thoughts?"

"I'm just tired," I whispered. "I'm tired of being interrupted by creeps with cameras. We can't get lunch without them finding us. How are we supposed to plan our wedding if we keep getting interrupted?"

Joe sighed as he reached over and grabbed my hand.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he said under his breath. "I didn't think they'd follow us home. They've followed me when I was filming but never home before. It's almost like, ever since we got engaged, they've doubled their efforts to get a picture of us."

"They're trying to get dirt on us," I said, not able to hide my frustration anymore. "They want to exploit our relationship and see how far they can push us apart."

"Doesn't matter," Joe said, making me look at him, "because they are never getting between us."

"But. . ."

"Absolutely not," he said sternly. "I don't care who the hell they think they are. No one is getting between us. Not after everything we've fought for."

When Joe and I first started seeing each other, the press got a hold of our relationship and ran with it. They put us on every magazine in the store. And the more magazines they put us on, the more people attacked our relationship. Everyone said we weren't good enough.

Well, everyone said I wasn't good enough. And it destroyed me. I fell into a deep depression and tried to break up with Joe. He ran to my side and stayed there. He made it clear that he knew what he wanted and what he wanted was me. He reassured me time and time again that he knew I was enough.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my breath getting stuck in my throat. Joe sighed as he squeezed my hand.

"Don't be," he said gently. "I wish I could tell you that after we get married, things are going to slow down. But honestly? I don't know if it will. I hope so. I hope they'll focus on the newest Hollywood couple and leave us the hell alone."

When we got home, I instantly went inside. The rest of the night, neither one of us said anything. I got dinner ready while Joe responded to some emails in his office.

Joe surprised me on our three-year anniversary with a house. We got engaged a year later. It was the perfect size for us; two floors, three beds, three baths. It was just outside LA where we could get away from the traffic and our neighbors didn't care that Joe was famous.

"The timer went off."

I jumped at the sudden voice. I looked over at the oven to see the timer had gone off. I grabbed the oven mitts from the kitchen counter and pulled out the pan of chicken.

"You need help setting the table?"

"It's already set."

When I walked to set the napkins on the table, Joe grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"Hey," he whispered, making me look up at him. "I know this isn't the life you thought you'd have; dodging paparazzi, pictures on magazines, fans knowing more about you than I do. This was what I signed up for, not you."

"I knew exactly what I was signing up for," I said instantly. "And I wouldn't take any of it back."

"I love you," he whispered.