“Are we ready?” Shelly breezes into the room as if she has an internal sense of exactly how long it should take. “Film crews will be here in twenty. Pack it up.”
My palms go clammy, and I watch as everyone hustles around to do her bidding. It’s a lot.
“Ready for your day in the spotlight?”
“Uh, no.” I shake my head.
She laughs as if I’m joking. I’m not. “For your introduction, we want it to be just about you. People that don’t know who you are will love you right out of the gate and the ones that do know who you are will do a double take. I will give it one episode before you are a show favorite. Of course, peoplewill make the connection to your sister when you make it to the hometown visits.”
“I’m going to make you lots of money, it sounds like.” I attempt the joke, and she smiles.
“Exactly, honey, you are going to shoot the ratings through the roof.”
CHAPTER 3
Lilah
The bright lights blind me,and I hold my hand up shielding my eyes. Am I really doing this?
Blinking, I look over at the host. It's surreal having Turner Clark watching me. The beta's hair is styled to perfection, and his skin glows beneath the lights. He looks like every bit of the star he is.
He reaches across the space and pats my hand sympathetically. “You'll do great. Soon enough, you'll forget the cameras are even in the room.”
I nod. What else am I supposed to do?
“Let's start with some practice questions. They’ll continue rolling so you get used to the spotlight, but we won't use them in the show.”
I fidget with my fingers, twisting the digits together before smoothing them out on my lap and straightening my shoulders. “Okay,” I say tentatively.
Before long, it feels like I'm chatting with an old friend as he asks his questions.
“What are you looking for in a pack?” He stares into my soul with his vivid blue eyes, and I swallow.
Forcing a laugh through the lump that's formed in my throat, I wet my lips. “Preferably a pack that won't meet me at the altar with my best friend on their arm.”
“I imagine that was hard…” His forehead creases with sympathy. “And it was his loss.” He looks at the cameras and adds, “I'm sure our audience will agree.”
“Cut,” the director shouts, startling me.
Turner Clark stands, unclipping his microphone from his blazer. He reaches out to shake my hand, and I put my fingers into his palm on autopilot as I stand up.
“Wait, I thought that was practice.” I glance around at the crew already packing up.
“Darling, you're a natural, the cameras love you.”
“You can't use that. Any of that—" Panic bright and hot showers over me.
“Of course we can, everyone loves to see someone finding love after being hurt so badly,” the director cuts in. “Shelly was right, you're going to be America’s sweetheart.”
They move around me, and it feels as if I’m in a whirlwind of activity, yet held apart from it all. It doesn’t feel real. The crew clears out as quickly as they had arrived, and I take the first real breath of oxygen in what feels like days.
Ashlyn peaks into the room, her gaze finding mine, then she comes in when she sees me alone. “How’d it go?”
“Terrible.”
“You look great. Did Greta dress you? That dress is fantastic on you.”
I cringe. “It looks like a wedding dress.”
