"Everyone was there," I say, my voice hollow. "My whole family. College friends. Work associates. I stood there for almost a quarter hour before I found his text."
My throat tightens. "He just wrote he couldn't go through with it."
"Left at the altar," says Antoine. "This is strong imagery. We must make use of it."
"What do you mean?"
"You're already booked for the Braxton show at seven tonight, right before the cocktail party. All we need to do is make Braxtonunderstand what really went down with Joseph. And all of America will be on your side."
"Sounds good."
"Now the story I pitched Braxton was a 'Cinderella gets engaged to her rockstar prince' puff piece. By now, Braxton must have read that tabloid story. She'll call you on it, asking you to explain yourself immediately."
"And what do I say?"
"You'll have to tell it all, Maddie," says Antoine, his voice more serious than I've ever heard it.
"And really have that cathartic moment when you explain how utterly crushed and humiliated you were when Joseph left you at the altar?—"
"But I can't!"
The words burst from me, desperate and raw.
"Everyone watching will think how pathetic I must be to have a man stand me up like that. They'll see me as damaged goods. The pitiable girl not fit to marry. No one can know that."
"They must." Prince Michael's voice cuts through the room.
"Antoine's right. It will create instant sympathy. It shows the public you were wounded, vulnerable. Joseph took advantage of that vulnerability."
Silence descends, thick and suffocating. A clock ticks somewhere, marking each second of my forthcoming public execution on the Braxton show.
Then Prince Michael speaks. "It's the only way to protect Rio. And your brother. The entire band. Everything we've built together."
I havehours to kill before the Braxton interview, so I go to my suite and take a nap, hugging Snorty's warm body against mine.
Then I wake up to prepare for the evening ahead. I apply cosmetics quickly, wishing Antoine was here to help advise me.
Even though what happened this morning wasn’t my fault, I feel like I disappointed Antoine.
Disappointed everyone.
Snooty comes up to me, with Rio’s bandana in his teeth.
“Thanks for remembering, Snorty,” I say, trying not to dwell on the tears welling up in my eyes.
Man and dog have formed a close relationship in the last several hours.And now …
“Here you go, Snorts,” I say, tying the bow with extra care and making it flair at the end, like Rio tried to teach me. “You look quite dashing! Now the interview awaits.”
"We're live in five minutes!"someone shouts as I try to settle my nerves before the Braxton interview.
The conference room adjacent to the rehearsal theater has been transformed into a media command center.
Thick black cables snake across the patterned carpet as Antoine and Prince Michael give me last minute media tips
"Remember," Antoine says, looking into my eyes. "You do not fight the host. You vibe with her."
"Maddie, this is Braxton," Prince Michael says a moment later, practically shoving me toward a woman who looks more like a gladiator than a talk show host.
