Jazzmyn! They wanted her to miss her mother’s wedding to accommodate Jazzmyn’s morning schedule. Does that involve breakfast with the boss, Natalie wondered. She’s leaning all the way in, she thought, then instantly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, I have to be at my mother’s wedding,” Natalie said firmly.

Bibb continued, “I need you at work. Sonia Barbaro is in the US and is saying things that could precipitate an international crisis. We’re in major breaking news and need a woman’s voice. What time does the wedding start?”

In a low voice, Natalie said, “There’s a gathering at 10 a.m. The wedding’s at noon.”

“I can let you out in time for the wedding. You can skip the pre-wedding activities. You’ll be anchoring with Ryan. I’ll personally ensure you’ll make it in time for the ceremony.”

When she hung up, James was standing over her, looking apprehensive.

“What is it?”

“There’s breaking news, they want me in,” Natalie said, feeling defeated and embarrassed in front of him. “Saying no isn’t an option. It’s hard to explain—”

He held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. My dad was a deputy secretary at the Pentagon. Forty years in the service. I understand when saying no to work isn’t an option.”

She stared at him. Who was this guy? A saint?

He reached past her to hang up the leash and she saw his biceps flex. No. Saints definitely did not have arms like those. She thought of the way he’d just kissed her and she wanted to make sure he understood she really didn’t want to go. “James, I—” She began.

The phone rang again, like an incantation. This is your chance. You’re on the elevator now.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

She had to get to work.

23

The Surrendered Reporter

“I know it tickles, honey, but sit still or the lash won’t go on right,” the nice woman painting wet glue onto the rim of Natalie’s eyelids told her.

“Sorry. It feels like my eyeball is on fire.”

“Try to think of something else. Think about how you’re becoming a star. You’re getting PFE,” the makeup lady said.

“PFE?” That was a new one.

“Pure effing exposure. Getting your face on TV as much as possible.”

The makeup lady blew on Natalie’s lid as she used tweezers to press the lashes into place, making Natalie’s lid start to go numb.

Numb is good, she thought. Numb means your eyeball doesn’t burn anymore.

At 8:46 a.m., even small victories were important.

“Savage in the house! Anchor chair, here we come,” Matt’s voice said, seeming even louder than usual.

She hadn’t expected him to be there. “What are you doing up so early?” Natalie asked, sneaking a glance out of one eye.

“Keep them closed,” the makeup lady barked. She went on, apparently addressing Matt, “Don’t you interrupt. She has to be on set in ten minutes.”