Page 28 of Making the Save

“Okay, thanks. I think I’ll just stay up a little longer and stare at the ocean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous about tomorrow.”

“Why would I be nervous about tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. An interview with a woman who is trying to poke holes in the very flimsy lie we’ve told?”

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“Lucky,” she said. “She terrifies me.”

“I’ll protect you,” I said.

“It’s so sweet that you think you can.” She hopped off the counter, and then to my surprise, she pressed a kiss to my cheek.

My hands flexed, itching to come up and cup her waist, hold her close. I wished I could turn my head, meet her lips with my own. Taste her again, see if she was as sweet as she’d been last night. Instead, I just stood there and took the kiss.

“Goodnight, Wyatt.”

“Goodnight, Syd.”

I watched her leave the kitchen. Heard her bedroom door close, and sighed.

Yeah, if I’d had just one or two fewer drinks, I wouldn’t be here in Sydney Malloy’s Malibu beach house. Sleeping in her guest room. Belly full of the pasta she made me. Her lips imprinted on my cheek.

Maybe things work out the way they do for a reason.

5

The Next Morning

Sydney

When I was little I used to go with my mom to get groceries and we had to walk from the trailer park outside of North Star, Oklahoma into town. We’d arrive sweaty and grubby from the dust on the road and the store’s air conditioning would feel like a dream.

I used to love going to the grocery store.

But when I got older, I saw how people looked at us. How when Mom pulled the food stamps out of her wallet, the cashiers always made a big deal about it. One day a cashier called the manager and accused me of stealing something and I started crying. My mom left all those groceries behind and dragged me out to the parking lot by my elbow.

“You give them nothing,” she’d hissed in my face. “You don’t show them nothing or they’ll use it to make you feel smaller. You look these assholes in the eye and act like you’ve never been so happy. That’s the only way to win.”

So, that’s what I did. All the time.

I was doing it sitting on the couch next to Wyatt, with Trish the viper sitting across from us getting ready to ask us personal intrusive questions.

I gave her nothing. I smiled like the happiest new bride that had ever lived.

Wyatt placed his arm along my back and squeezed my shoulder in a gesture of support. I thought about putting my hand on his knee, but that seemed awkward and I was already nervous enough.

A bead of sweat slipped down the side of his face and I reached up and wiped it away. A little more powder would have helped with the sweat, but the little bit we got on him was a fight.

The lights were in position. The cameras were already rolling. Tricia’s deep red hair was perfectly curled around her shoulders. Her makeup expertly applied.

I wore a light pink dress that looked both virginal and sexy, which was on brand for me. Wyatt looked bigger than ever in snug dark wash jeans and a form fitting button down shirt.

“Well,” Tricia said with what I knew was a fake smile. “This is super fun. Surprise wedding. I’m just going to ask the questions that your fans will want to know.”

“Pretty sure my fans only care about my blocked shot percentage,” Wyatt said. “You going to ask me about that?”