Wyatt: Did I mention I’m in a meeting with three AXC executives? Including my father.
Kat: LOL!
Wyatt: Not laughing over here.
Kat: I’m sorry!
Wyatt: You can make it up to me later. I have a few ideas…
Kat: Keep brainstorming, love. I’m all yours.
Wyatt: Good luck at your interview, beautiful.
Kat: See you tonight. xx
I’m still grinning like an idiot when the door swings inward. Grayson’s familiar frame fills the entryway. His gaze finds mine instantly.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” I tilt my head at him as I shove my phone back inside my purse. “How are you?”
I only ask because he looks like a total wreck. There are deep shadows beneath his eyes, making his emerald irises stand out starkly in their sockets. If I had to guess, I’d say he hasn’t slept since I saw him last.
He shrugs. “You know me. Always good.”
I’m not buying it. “Grayson…”
“Kat. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it,” I say bluntly, climbing to my feet. “How’s Helena? Did you get her settled in?”
His mouth opens to respond, but he doesn’t have a chance to answer because the spacey PA appears in the doorway.
“Reggie is ready for you,” she informs us. “If you’ll just follow me…”
We walk in silence down the hall and find ourselves backstage. I can hear the crush of voices from the live audience upstairs as they file into their seats. Nervous jitters take hold of me.
Grayson reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. I startle at the sudden contact and his hand drops away.
“Sorry.” He swallows hard. His eyes are on mine, and there’s a lost look in their depths. “You nervous?”
“Always,” I murmur.
“You’ll be fine. Reggie is a ratings shark, but he’s not a bad guy. His jokes are pretty terrible, though.”
“Hey! I heard that!” A nasally voice interjects. “Blame my writers, not me, hombre.”
We turn to face the man himself — Reggie Vasquez. His late-night show dominates the ratings year after year, in part due to his ever-rotating roster of celebrity guests.
He looks so much smaller in person than he does on a television screen. Not a particularly handsome man, nonetheless he has a certain kind of charisma that commands your attention. His dark brown eyes are locked on me, appraising.
“Katharine Firestone,” he murmurs, extending a hand. “It’s great to meet you.”
I slide my palm into his, trying not to flinch at the sweaty warmth of his skin. “Thanks for having us on the show. I’m excited to be here.”
His grip tightens, not releasing mine. “Excited to have you.”
A fissure of unease spirals through my chest. Grayson shifts closer to me, sliding an arm around my back. I notice he doesn’t shake hands with the host — they trade taciturn nods of greeting instead. As the seconds tick on in silence with me trapped between the two of them, I begin to feel like a doomed chew toy caught in a game of tug-of-war between two rival dogs.