Nora rolled her eyes. “Save the romance for the cameras.”
“That wasn’t a line,” he protested. “I only mean whenever she starts talking, I lose my train of thought. I’m working on it.”
“Good. Because I need your A game.” Nora turned to me and looped an arm through mine. “Walk with me.”
Apparently, I didn’t have a choice, because she was already tugging me forward. “Here’s the thing. I know we were supposed to talk logistics this morning. But then we got wind that Governor Mane’s team is holding a press conference. Rumor is it’s about you and Logan. So, change of plans.”
We wound past all the desks, dodging staffers as they ran to make copies or deliver armfuls of water bottles. “We’re going to have to put you and Logan on fast. As in, now.”
I stopped in my tracks, causing Nora to spring back like a rubber band. “What do you mean, put us on?”
She brushed her long French braid over her shoulder. “We have to scoop Mane. Hold our own press conference before his. Whoever speaks first will own the conversation.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. I’d thought this morning would be about discussing rules and conditions, all the fine details, including my blank check request. No one had said anything about being thrust into the spotlight. In an instant, the warm feeling in my stomach was replaced with wild butterflies. “You want me to talk toreporters?”
“Logan will do most of the talking. But—” She held out her hand. Amazingly, a staffer walked up from the copy machine and placed a piece of paper in it like clockwork. “We have your talking points right here.” She side-eyed me. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
My mouth dropped open. “No onetold me—”
“Okay, okay, forget I said anything.” She waved. “Come on, we’re tight on time. I was hoping you’d come in through the front so the reporters could see you.”
“What do I even say to them?” I’d watched some of Lee’s press conferences. There was that nice controlled part at the beginning when she talked, sure, but after that it always exploded into pandemonium, reporters hurling questions like baseballs, trying to strike her out. I couldn’t handle that level of confrontation—I was terrified eventhinkingabout public speaking. Besides, I hadn’t even been trained. There was going to be training, right? Last night before bed I’d pictured it as some sort ofKarate Kid–style montage where I slowly improved over the course of one bitching song from the eighties.
“What did we decide on?” Nora studied the sheet. “Oh, right. You and Logan met a year ago when he started attending campaign events in support of your sister.”
“He did?”
“Yup. Rallied for her hard. A total coincidence, but we’ve got that on record, so that’ll check out nicely. He’s the one who approached you after a town hall and struck up a conversation—we’re painting you as the shy one.”
“I think I can handle that.”
She scanned farther down the sheet. “The two of you bonded over your shared passion for community engagement, improving literacy, and...children’s fantasy novels. Is that last one a joke? Logan added it. Sometimes I can’t tell when he’s joking or not. It’s the quasi-British delivery.”
“More like him trolling me,” I said, feeling the butterflies beat their wings.
“Right. Well, your first date was six months ago, at this Italian place called Il Tempesto. Logan says it’s romantic.”
That was where Annie and Zoey had gotten engaged. It was the perfect date spot. I had a sudden strange moment of wistfulness for the life Nora was describing.
“You’ve been dating ever since but keeping your relationship private because neither of you wanted it to distract from your work. You’re coming forward now, obviously, because people have the gall to suggest you’re a fling.” Nora eyed me. “You’re taking notes on my tone, right? Thegall.”
“Got it.” Inwardly, I shook my head. I’d never pull off that kind of righteous indignation. “What do we say if someone from the bar remembers us? There was this guy, Carter—”
“Logan told me. You say the two of you have ways of keeping the spice alive, and one of them is pretending to be strangers. We figure we can get a lot of mileage out of that excuse.” She turned to me. “Okay, we’re here.”
And somehow, we were. I’d gotten so caught up in the story of my love affair I hadn’t registered we’d reached the door. Nora squinted at me, then brushed invisible lint off my dress and fluffed my hair. “Best we can do,” she said, which wasn’t exactly comforting.
“Wait—”
“You’ll do great. Let Logan take the lead, then he’ll prompt you. When in doubt, mix a little truth in with your lie. It’s what the pros do. There he is. Good, you got the pin.”
Logan hurried up, buffing an American flag pin on his lapel. “We ready?”
“No,” I said, at the same time Nora said, “As we’ll ever be. Knock ’em dead.”
Two staffers swung open the double doors, and there they were, a whole crowd of reporters gathered at the bottom of the steps. Well, maybe only ten, but between the pops of light from their cameras, the yelled questions, and the scampering production assistants, it felt like a hundred. I froze, rooted to the floor.
“All good,” Logan said, eyes sweeping the crowd. He slipped his hand inside mine and squeezed. “They’re just nerds with microphones.”
