Page 105 of The Overtime Persuasive

“I don’t want to call him.”

“Why not?”

Because I don’t want to chase someone down and remind him that he promised to show up for me.

Because if he’s forgotten, I don’t want to hear it in his voice. Because this morning I let myself be excited—not only about the taping, but about walking into that studio with Liam beside me.

He knows what this means. He knows how exposed the idea of being on television makes me feel. He took my hand backstage at Dad’s concert, looked at me as though there were nowhere else he intended to be, and told me I wouldn’t have to do this by myself.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” I say.

“Eva.”

“I need to leave.” I open a rideshare app. The nearest car is thirteen minutes away.

“No.” Lucy takes out her phone. “I’m calling you a cab.”

She turns away before I can object and speaks to someone with an efficiency I would admire more if my pulse weren’t trying to climb out through my throat.

I gather my purse, folder, and garment bag. My backup blouse is inside, along with a second pair of earrings, setting powder, a comb, and enough emergency supplies to suggest I’m going to the studio by way of an overnight wilderness expedition.

Still no response from Liam.

Lucy ends her call. “The cab will be here in four minutes.”

“See? Plenty of time.”

Neither of us believes me.

She reaches for my garment bag, straightening the fold where I’ve crushed it against the counter. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“And leave Side B unattended? No.” I take the bag from her. “You’re already doing me a favor by being here.”

“I’m not doing you a favor. I love you, I’m doing what friends do for each other.”

The familiar exchange should settle me. Instead, I’m aware of how carefully she’s watching my face.

“I’m fine,” I tell her.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Yes, but your eyebrows are asking, so tell them to shut up.”

A horn honking tells me that the cab has pulled up outside. I look at my phone one more time.

Nothing.

Lucy mutters something I’m fairly certain a loyal sister shouldn’t say about her twin brother.

“Don’t call him,” I threaten.

“Why not?”

“If something happened, he’ll contact me when he can.”

“And if nothing happened?”

I refuse to answer that.