Even sooner than that, the interoffice memo would arrive.
There’d be no pulling it back after that. No version of this where the world didn't know. No version where Noah's carefully constructed life didn't crack open in front of a national audience, and whatever came out of it came out on live television. No safety net. No second takes.
She’d told him a million times she was on board, and she was. No more hiding. No more running from his past. And she’d stand there, holding his hand the entire time, because she loved and supported him.
She didn’t care what name he was given at birth. Who his father was had no bearing on her love.
Unfortunately, the realization that his viewers, the station, and their friends could have a different opinion suddenly hit her sideways.
Pivoting, she continued destroying Noah's carpet.
Noah leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folded, watching her carve a groove into the floor with the patience of a man who had nowhere else to be and had apparently decided her anxiety was something to observe rather than smooth.
“If our relationship hasn’t given people something to talk about, this behavior sure will," he said. “Just so you know, people are staring.”
She glared. “I can’t help it.”
His mouth twitched. It wasn’t a grin. It wasn’t a smirk. It was simply a twitch that indicated, at least to her, that he thought her nervousness amusing, or endearing, or anything but annoying.
She found it deeply unhelpful right now.
“Come on, Zig. Relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”
"Relax?" she repeated. "That's what you're going with?"
“Working a hole in my carpet isn’t going to solve anything.”
"It's helping me not lose my mind," she shot back. "So, I'm going to stick with it."
He pushed off the desk and closed some of the distance between them—not enough to crowd her, just enough to interrupt the loop.
“What’s got you so worked up?” he asked. “Is it the pending conversation with Claire? Or is it people knowing about the interview?”
“Jag one hundred percent believes that Claire’s the one who walked into that florist and had those flowers sent to me. Brian showed a picture of Claire to a few of the nurses at the hospital, and more than one believes it was Claire who dropped off the card and arrangement for Monica. For all we know, she’s also the one who beat Monica in the parking lot.”
“Unfortunately, Jag and the Seattle PD haven’t been able to find enough evidence of anything to even question Claire—which they haven't done yet.”
“And you’re super happy they won’t until after this interview, which means we get to be alone with the crazy woman.”
“We’ll never be alone with her.” Noah took both her hands. “We’re in a glass bubble right now. People are watching you act like you've either been abducted by aliens or your mad at your boyfriend, because you don't normally pace. But remember, when we leave, Cormac will follow us, and when Claire walks out of this building, Dakota will follow her. After tonight, if I do my job well, both Claire and my dad will be exposed.”
Ziggy held his gaze while her heart pushed into her throat like an out-of-control jackhammer.
“Do you think you can settle down? Claire will be here any minute, and I don’t want everyone out there to think that you’re upset over something to do with her.”
Ziggy snorted. “I wish the idea that I was jealous of that young woman was absurd, but hey, considering, I’m scared about everything… And not my normal uptight anxious self that I get right before you go on air that I do my best to bottle infront of you that you always tell me I fail miserably because you can read me better than I can read myself.” She reached up and fiddled with her earring while she tried to catch her breath.
Noah leaned in and kissed her. It was something he’d never done at work, and it should be considered totally inappropriate. But he honestly didn't care.
“I’m scared, too. Terrified of what I’m about to step into. Somewhere in that courtroom at fourteen, I learned how to push certain emotions while I'm deep under pressure. It's both a blessing and a curse because you know what the critics say about me. That I’m not human. That I don’t care about people’s feelings, and that’s not true. I care very much. But right now, if I show a drop of nervousness, my father, and those who adore him, like Claire, will smell it like a wolf sniffs out its prey. That happens, and we lose control of everything we've set up."
Ziggy couldn’t respond to that. There was nothing to say. Because that part was true, and she hated that fact. She'd spent years helping Noah build a show on the principle that you didn't go on air until you had something solid. And here she was on the other side of that, and it felt exactly as awful as she'd always imagined it would.
She dragged her fingers through her hair, dropped her hand to her side, and forced herself to stand still.
“I’ll work on my acting skills,” she muttered.
“You only need to be yourself.”