Ryan nodded.
“Tomorrow’s press conference?”
“Covered, just like today. Still Q-and-A only on the film,” she quickly replied.
“But I’ve spent the entire day avoiding the subject,” Ryan stressed.
“I know, but Jimmy is going to put you on the spot out there in front of a live studio audience regardless, so you need to be ready for it. This is a huge story, Ryan, and you know he wants it! Collins is renegotiating his contract with the network and he’s looking for the ratings boost. If he gets you to admit it—”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “What? Marla never told me that.”
Trish searched through her bag and retrieved a sheet of paper, which she immediately handed to Ryan. “Just having you on the show tonight in light of everything is upping his points. See? You’re going to have to respond to it one way or another.” He held back a curse. “How do I handle Night Life tomorrow then?”
“Same way,” Trish advised, stuffing the paper evidence back in her bag. “If you open up to Jimmy now, Nigel Allen is going to press even harder for new details tomorrow.
His ratings are going to jump just because you acknowledged the engagement tonight—if you choose to do that. But if you do, then you’ll have both Collins and Allen in your pocket for further PR. But let’s not worry about that now. You’ve got to concentrate on handling this appearance.” Ryan glanced over to the doorway that led out to the main hallway. “Marla doesn’t know about this, does she?” He motioned with his finger, swaying it between the two of us.
“No,” I answered. “Trish is sticking her neck out to protect your reputation.”
“I’ll probably get fired tonight,” she huffed. “But anyway, you need to turn scandal into opportunity, Ryan. Treat it with honesty. Jimmy said that if he gets you to talk about your engagement, he’s going to try and contrast the romance in the movie back against your admission to keep it moving. I was there when Marla talked to him and his producer just before you came in for your pre-interview.”
Ryan blew out a big lungful of air through his pursed lips.
“It’s a good segue from your personal business back to the film,” Trish advised. “If you choose to talk about it, keep the details on the surface and take your time so you don’t blurt out anything too personal.”
“Tricia!” Marla barked harshly from the open doorway. Her high heels were clicking forcefully in our direction.
Ryan strolled away, deep in thought when Marla reached us. I thought about going with him just so I wouldn’t have to be that close to Marla, but I could not let Trish take the heat alone. After what she just did for us, I was not going to abandon her.
Trish was prepared, calmly deflecting Marla’s anger at being called away for nothing with quick answers. I looked away so she wouldn’t notice my smirk.
Ryan purposefully walked over to me and gathered my hand in his, pulling me away from Marla. “How are you doing?” he whispered privately.
I gave him my best “doing okay” nod and wink, even though my eyes slid back to see where Marla was. I think he caught my glance because he sighed heavily.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Excuse me, sir, we’re ready to seat your guests,” a crew member said to Ryan.
“I’ll see you later,” Ryan whispered, grasping my fingertips to pull me in for a soft kiss.
“Okay, hon. Good luck!” I watched his retreating back as a production assistant led him away.
Our group was ushered out into the hallway so we could take our seats in the studio audience. We had our own section off to the left side of the stage; I sat in the seat next to Ryan’s mom. Janelle, Ryan’s sister-in-law, sat next to me. Ryan’s father, Bill, kept fidgeting in his chair, anxiously waiting like the rest of us for Ryan to make his appearance onstage. Ryan was in the primary guest spot for the show, so he would be up first.
Janelle leaned over. “Are you okay?” I was staring at one of the TV monitors, twisting my ring. My feet were bouncing up and down on the floor.
I shrugged. “Just nervous, I guess.”
“Why?” she questioned me strangely.
I leaned closer. “Photos of his proposal were leaked.”
Janelle scoffed. “Ah, so what.” And then I think it dawned on her. “Oh, he’s going to get asked about it now, isn’t he?” she said, appearing happy about it.
I nodded a few times, unwilling to tear my eyes away from the stage.
I held my breath as the camera returned to the host, Jimmy Collins, now seated at his desk after his monologue. His fingers picked at a magazine that lay facedown in front of him.