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I stand and hold out my hand. “Well, it was a pleasure talking to you, Lily.” She extends hers and gives a limp shake, mouth opening and closing. I turn on my heel and walk away. I need air, but there’s nowhere to go.
Trina stands in a cluster of women. She nods and smiles but doesn’t talk to anyone.
Why? What is she really doing here?
A plan forms in the back of my mind. It’s crazy enough it might work. Trina hates my guts. Her article made that obvious. What if I change her mind? If I can convince Trina I’m a good man and not the creep she’s made me out to be, all this might be worth the aggravation.
I spend the rest of the night mingling among the women, asking their likes and dislikes. Most give me the same answers, which are the things they know I like. One offers to go shoot hoops with me, which would be a nice reprieve, but not happening.
The giant red clock counting down the hours finally hits zero. The host returns to the microphone. He drones on about how he appreciates our participation, then waves me forward.
Bright lights cook my head and shoulders, causing me to sweat.
“Liam, let’s not keep these ladies in suspense. Who’s the lucky bride-to-be?”
The grin I’ve worn all night tugs tight against my cheeks. Almost over. I make a show of scanning the room full of women. I head toward Lily, and she gives the women on either side of her a satisfied smirk. I turn at the last minute and hold out my hand to Trina. “I choose you.”
Chapter 2
TRINA
Heat scorches my cheeks as Liam aims his smug smile at me from his two-story height. He takes my hand and tries to tug me forward. My heels dig into the plush carpet. I'm not moving.
A cameraman swooshes around us, and the camera rises and falls.
Oh my goodness. This is a flipping nightmare. Wake up, Trina. This can’t be real.Not real. Not real. Not real.
A chuckle rumbles from Liam’s throat. He places his other hand on my elbow and drags me to the stage. Gasps and cheers come from either side of us, but the faces are a blur. Lights pierce my vision. I must look like a startled squirrel on a caffeine high, frozen into a meme-worthy pose. My legs are stiff, and my arms are wooden. Liam the Puppeteer snickers under his breath. He's doing this to get back at me. What a turd.
Imbecile.
Well, that's not happening.
If only I could get my jaw to work. I'm an introvert at heart. I love my quiet corner and always have my head in a book. This. This TV crapola is not my jam. I hate attention. I love journalism—but on paper, not in front of America.
Hypnotized by the camera lens, I imagine my sisters’ bug-eyed expressions. Melanie. Pam. Are they seeing this?Get me out of this mess!
