Breathing deep, I tell myself to stay strong. Either this will work or it won’t—but I want it to. I’m desperate to keep that connection between us.
Yet I need to understand and respect her feelings. Forgive her for walking away from me so easily. It’s damn hard. That tiny, vulnerable part buried deep within me, that little boy who never felt wanted, the one who spent his entire life moving through it essentially alone . . .
He is devastated.
The restaurant is packed, full of people chatting loudly, mostly large families dealing with rambunctious children who tend to run around the tables like they’re on speed or something.
Me? I sit alone. Waiting. My phone rests on the table in front of me, unchecked. I fidget in my seat, smoothing the front of my dress, pressing my lips together, the unfamiliar stickiness of the lip gloss I’m wearing making me worried I might have smeared it.
I’m all dressed up, waiting for my date. Well. Not a real date, more of a negotiation meeting. Something clicked when I was in the shower last night. An idea. Crazy and rebellious, but that’s how I feel right now. I’m sick of being everyone’s puppet, of always wanting to please everyone. I’m taking control now. I’m so convinced this idea will work, I made the phone call first thing this morning.
No surprise, she was eager to meet and hear what I had to say. And the moment she enters the restaurant, it’s like I feel her presence. Glancing up, I see her being led toward my table by the host who greeted me earlier, a serene expression on her face as if she is the queen and we’re all nothing but her indentured servants.
“Katherine.” I stand when she stops by my seat, turning my cheek to accept her air kiss. So weird. The complete opposite from the almost hostile behavior I witnessed a few days ago. She’d been on edge then, I guess. I’m not sure what to think, but I do know this—I can’t read this woman. She flips and she flops constantly.
It’s annoying.
“Lisa.” I offer her a tight smile and gather the full skirt of my dress as I sit down, scooting my chair closer to the table. The host pushes Lisa’s seat in and she smiles up at him, dazzling the poor young guy. He’s starstruck.
Fortunately enough, I am not.
“I was so happy to receive your call.” A waiter appears, reaching for the empty water glass in front of Lisa, and he fills it expertly. She waits for him to leave before she continues talking. “I’m thrilled you’re willing to discuss an interview with me.”
She wastes no time and I prefer it. I really don’t want to sit and have a casual lunch with her. I came dressed to impress, putting on my new outfit as some sort of armor, ready to fight. Ready to get what I want.
“I have conditions,” I say, leaning my folded arms against the edge of the table. She watches me as she takes a sip of her water, her gaze never leaving mine. “Things I need you to agree to before I’ll do this interview.”
“Of course.” Like she never expected anything less.
I smile, though it feels forced. “I won’t talk to Aaron Monroe.” I repeated his name over and over again all morning to ensure I’d be able to say it without a waver in my voice. I’m proud of the fact that I sound so normal. “Don’t try and trick me by setting up some crazy chat between us. I will get up and walk out if you pull something like that.”
The flicker in her gaze tells me—ha!—that she was considering it. Unbelievable. “Of course not,” she says smoothly.
“I don’t want my interview to be too long. Ten minutes. That’s it. That’s the most I can do. I have no idea what else you’d want me to say.”
“Well, it’s mostly going to be a response piece.” Lisa leans forward, her expression, her demeanor, eager. I get the sense she’s been dying to discuss this with me for days. Weeks even. “Monroe’s interview was conducted almost a month ago. I can ask you questions related to what he told me.”
“Do I have to listen to him?” I don’t want to hear his voice. I don’t want those clips from his interview repeated back at me so I have to sit there and watch him, listen to him, see him with that arrogant look on his face as he trashes me. Tries to ruin me.
“No. I’ll read the questions to you. We already have them formatted and ready to go. We plan on running the clips from his statements during the actual interview, but if you don’t want to see any of it, you don’t have to.” She smiles, takes another drink of her water. Her menu remains untouched and so does mine, because I’m figuring neither of us is here to order food.
I know I’m certainly not.
“I have one other condition.” This is the one that makes me the most nervous. I don’t know how she’s going to take it. I’m not even sure if I’m making the right choice, but I feel like this is what I need to do in order for this stupid television appearance to happen.
I swore I wouldn’t do this again. But here I am, agreeing to an interview with Lisa Swanson about Aaron Monroe. About to say something that is insane. Truly nuts.
“Name it. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
“I won’t do this interview unless Will Monroe is involved. If he won’t participate, then neither can I.”
Gotta give her credit, Lisa remains completely calm. Not one crack appears in her impassive veneer. “He’s been very—reluctant to talk to me so far.”
I know Ethan. He’s probably refused to speak with her.