It’s so surreal knowing that Micah is streaming the conference right inside. I know the reasons for not having him appear or speak, but still … it’s gotta make him feel powerless in this.
I’ve got you, Micah. You protected me, and now it’s my turn to protect you.
Janie opens the press conference with a statement. I stand quietly by while she paints a verbal picture of a single widowed father who took a small part in a commercial to help his daughter live her dream of being on television. He then was thrown into a world of intense scrutiny and privacy invasion as women latched onto the newest face in advertising. According to Janie, Micah spent the days leading to the incident dodging fans and paparazzi left and right, never having a moment alone, always worrying about his daughter’s safety in that environment.
None of what Janie says is an outright lie, but she does spin the truth into a convenient tapestry of circumstances designed to garner the most sympathy possible.
When she finishes, Janie invites the reporters to ask questions.
That’s when things go south.
“Ms. Bridges! Ms. Bridges!” One particularly enthusiastic reporter, already taller than the rest, waves his arm high over his head to get our attention. Janie gestures for him to speak. “Ms. Bridges, is it true that you and Mr. Lindley have been having an affair for months now?”
Shit. I lean closer to the microphone and clear my throat. “Mr. Lindley—Micah is a widower. I’m a single woman. There’s noaffair. We’re dating.”
There. That should settle that.
“So, thereisa romantic involvement between the two of you?”
Why does he make it sound dirty? “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”
He ignores my question. “And you had an affair with Sloan Maverick as well, correct? Tell me, Ms. Bridges, do you have a habit of sleeping with all the actors you hire?”
“What?”My screech of disbelief causes feedback on the mic, and some of the people in the crowd shield their ears with their hands. “I never even dated Sloan, nor any of the other actors I’ve worked with. Micah and I started datingbeforewe hired him for the commercial, and we only hired him because he knew the lines from practicing with his daughter.”
The reporter smirks at me. “Well, that’s not what Sloan is saying. His official statement is that you two were hot and heavy until he dumped you, so you hooked up with your neighbor in retaliation and hired him to take Sloan’s place.”
Sloan is so dead once this is over. My hands clench into fists at my sides, and I grit my teeth. I want to storm down the street and punch this asshole reporter, but I can’t exactly do that. Instead, I opt for deflection. “Who do you write for, anyway? Some tabloid, I’m guessing. Is itThe Tattletale? Or maybe it’sInside Hollyweird.”
I’m getting defensive. I shouldn’t get defensive. Janie kicks my shin behind the podium, probably an attempt to get me to shut the fuck up. If I was a smart woman, I would follow her cues.
I guess I’m not a smart woman today.
“Look, Jolly Green Gossip, I don’t care what Sloan says. We’re not even here about Sloan; we’re here about Micah, and you all seem to forget that Micah saved me from that out-of-control photographer. That man grabbed me while I was holding a small child! What if he’d made me drop her? What if he’d done more than just snatch my shirt? He could have hurt both of us, but everyone’s focusing on Micah as though that cameraman did nothing wrong.” More kicks from Janie, but there’s no stopping me; I’m on a roll. “I was shaken, and poor little Hailey was terrified.”
“Of her father?”
“Of the total stranger who attacked us!”
Oh, God, that came out shrill as fuck. I sound like a psychopath.
Oliver steps up behind me and gently pulls me away from the microphone while Janie slides over into my place at the podium. “Go inside. Pull yourself together,” he whispers in my ear as he eases me backwards.
I don’t want to go inside; I want to continue to defend Micah. Micah, who I know would never let anyone hurt me. Micah, who doesn’t have a violent bone in his body, unless someone he loves is in danger. Micah, who opens the door and collects me from my boss as the cameras flash away. Micah, who slams the door on the gathered crowd. Micah, who wraps me in his arms and holds me while I tremble with rage.
Micah, whose life I probably just ruined with my little freakout.
I try to back away from him in shame, but he doesn’t let go. I realize in this moment that he’ll never let me go, no matter how much I’ve screwed up. That knowledge alone is enough to ground me, to center me, and I take slow, steady breaths to calm myself.
“I’m sorry, Micah. I let him goad me.”
He presses his lips to my forehead in a soft kiss. “Shh. It’s okay. Let Janie take care of the rest of it.”
“But—”
“Hey, it’s her job, right?” He chuckles and nuzzles my neck. “If people like us didn’t go apeshit in public, she’d be out of work.”
I lean back to look Micah in the eyes. “You’re not mad?”
