The creek wasn't much, really. More of a glorified ditch with a few stubborn fish and a whole lot of mud. But the kids loved it, and their happiness was my own sort of twisted, exhausting joy.

We’d only been there about fifteen minutes when the inevitable happened. I was trying to untangle Leo's fishing line (again), when I heard the tell-tale squeals of glee followed by a loud sploosh. I figured it was just the twins, probably battling over who got to use the blue bucket first. You know, normal kid stuff.

"Lily, Leo, please keep it down a little!" I yelled, more tired than annoyed. I finally got the stupid knot out and looked up, ready to scold them for whatever mud fight they'd started this time.

Except, it wasn't them.

Stuck hip-deep in the mud, looking utterly bewildered and covered in gloppy brown muck, was someone I recognized from the covers of magazines. Not just some local paper celebrity either. Like, the celebrity. The one everyone was obsessed with.

My jaw must’ve hit the creek bank. I stared, dumbfounded, as they sputtered, trying to pull a mud-caked designer shoe out of the muck. It was like seeing an alien land in my backyard.

"Oh my good god," I mumbled, mostly to myself. This was NOT happening. I must’ve cracked under the pressure of the summer heat.

Lily and Leo, however, were in hysterics. “Look daddy! Muddy person!” Lily squealed, pointing. Leo, not to be outdone, started clapping, which only made the mud mustache on his lip creep up his face, making him look like a tiny, mud-covered walrus.

I couldn't help a snort of laughter. I waded closer, trying to suppress another laugh. They were still struggling, their face a mask of confused frustration.

“Here, let me give you a hand.”

They looked up, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. There was a flicker of something in their eyes that made my stomach do a weird flip- I blamed the heat. Yeah, definitely the heat.