But not one smiles back.
Some tap on their devices. Most just stare. Like I’m a painting, not a person.
"Is the press always like this?" I ask Rio out of the side of my mouth.
"Rarely. My guess is that the sponsor assembled the press list from more conservative publications. It fits, because the concert’s benefiting a charity."
"Ah," I say, feeling like a good taunt is in order. "Thatmust explain why the female journalists aren’t ripping off their panties and throwing them at you."
"Don’t make assumptions. Male journalists do that as well," Rio retorts.
As I burst into laughter, Snorty turns his head toward us with an inquisitive yip.
When I look back at the journalists, I wonder if they can see through our ruse.Do they already know this is fake? Can they smell desperation?
Antoine calls for quiet, and makes a quick introduction.
Then he invites the journalists to ask questions.
The first question comes from a balding man in the second row. "Where did you two meet?"
Before I can answer, a woman with a severe bob cut and an even more severe expression cuts in. "This engagement is rather sudden, isn’t it?"
Rio leans into his microphone, all charm. "Maddie and I met at a party. I saw the most gorgeous woman in the room, and I went right for her in true Rio style."
Another reporter stands. He is younger, with a faded band T-shirt under his blazer.
"Buttrue Rio styleis usually ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma'am,’" he says. “Apologies to the future Ms. Wilder. But why Maddie, Rio? What makes Maddie different?"
I cringe.What a question.
Rio's smile doesn't falter as he turns to me. "Well, why don’t we ask Miss Maddie?"
My stomach lurches. I wasn’t prepared for this. The lights feel too bright. The room too quiet. All those once-bored eyes, now fixed on my face. Challenging me.
My legs feel like jelly as I stand.
"I'm in fancy clothes and makeup because I was told photographers would take my picture. But when I’m not at work teaching autistic children, I’m just a regular girl."
"If that’s the case, what were you doing at a party withcelebrities like Rio?" A guy with a receding hairline shouts this question from the back of the room.
My cheeks burn. "I was invited by a friend." I glance at Rio, who's watching me with his intense eyes.
"I had no clue any famous people would show up. Lucky me, right?"
From the back of the room, Antoine nods encouragingly.
I take a deep breath. "When I saw Rio across the room, it was like..."
I hesitate. I’m totally making this up as I go.
“Like the world just stopped. Like you see in one of those slow-motion movie scenes. I know that sounds super cheesy, but it's true."
My hands shake under the table. "You just know when Cupid hits you with an arrow. Not logical. Just instant. You just know."
The journalists burst out laughing, and my stomach drops. I sink back into my chair, mortified.
Rio takes over, answering their questions with his usual smooth talk. Yet even he seems off his game.
