Page 110 of Making the Save

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “There are ushers…”

It was too late. Wyatt had already left the limo on his side and was circling the back of the car.

My door opened and Wyatt’s hand was there. I clasped it like a lifeline as he pulled me from the limo.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as soon as I was standing next to him. “I’ll let you lead, but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t going to open your door.”

I reached for his hand and slipped my fingers between his. Like when he’d rested his hand on my knee, I was calmer. Stronger. Wyatt was holding on to me. I knew I was safe.

The cameras started to click. Like cicadas, they had their own unique and annoying sound. “Just lift your chin, smile, and concentrate on looking as natural as possible,” I told Wyatt.

“None of this is natural,” he said. I led the way and I liked how we must look. The fairy leading the beast out of the forest. We stopped and talked to journalists on the red carpet, answering questions about who we were wearing and who we were excited to see tonight. There were lots of questions about Liam, which Wyatt answered with a smile.

The only time he seemed comfortable on the carpet was when he was talking about me or about his brother. Ask him about the suit or style and he about levitated with boredom.

Three stops up I could see Tricia Yonish. She was wearing Vera Wang, her red hair artfully styled in soft waves over her shoulder.

“We’re not stopping for her,” Wyatt said. He’d spotted her as well.

“We have to,” I told him.

“She gets nothing from us, Syd,” he growled.

“That’s not how this game is played, Wyatt.”

“Fuck all of them.”

Except I couldn’t. This was partly why I was here with Wyatt. To put on the show. To pretend we were something we weren’t. To protect my reputation, and maybe even to some degree, my honor.

“Sydney, Wyatt, hello again!” Tricia greeted us as if we were old friends she’d just happened to run into on the street.

“Tricia,” I said graciously. “You look lovely.”

“What? This old thing?” She laughed at her own joke. “I see married life,wink, wink,really suits you. You practically have a glow about you. And you, Mr. Locke, how are you fitting into yourwife’slife?”

The jabs were intentional. The winks, the emphasis on wife. As if my life was something he needed to bend himself to fit into.

“Just fine,” he said, short and clipped.

“Sydney, I can’t help but ask. Everyone wants to know. What John Bernard was saying about the two of you. Are the rumors true? Were you with Wyatt while you were still with John?”

I could feel Wyatt’s fingers tense up in mine. He was ready to spring into action on my behalf, but I was learning to fight my own battles. First Tyler. Now Trish. I placed my hand on his chest and patted it. Beauty, calming down her beast.

“No, of course not. Fidelity and loyalty are things I take seriously. Although not everyone shares my beliefs.”

“Is that directed at John? You know he’s here tonight with Ellie Wheeler, who is competing against you for female artist of the year.”

I smiled brightly. “I wish John and Ellie all the best of luck. I only hope they have found a fraction of the happiness I’ve found with my husband.”

Wyatt got my cue and we walked away from Trish.

“Nice job,” he said, for my ears only.

“I’m just glad I got the last word,” I said.

22

Wyatt