Page 126 of The Fake Out

“I’m not letting you get away with this,” he said, stubbornly.

“Me?”

“Or him. Not him either.”

“I don’t see any way out of this.”

“If you want something bad enough, you find a way. Might not be logical, but it’s the truth.” He gazed into my eyes intensely, but I got the feeling he was seeing something else, feeling for solutions to a very messed-up problem. His smile appeared slowly but it came just the same. “Listen to me. Don’t do anything, okay? I have a plan.”

“What?”

He stood, determination written all over his face. “Promise? Just sit tight. Don’t contact your dad. Just wait, okay?”

“Okay,” I said slowly, standing. “I’ll wait.”

“Good.” He pressed a short, hard kiss to my mouth. Grinning, he tapped my nose and he was gone.

FIFTY-FIVE

Oh, no! The cops are here.

Someone must have reported that you’ve stolen my heart.

—ELENA S.

Piper: Chris’s segment airs tonight at 6:20 p.m.

Me: What’s the plan?

Piper: Just watch.

I hadn’t slept much at all, or eaten, or left my room more than necessary. I tried to read a book, but my focus was all over the place—the library, Chris, Mama, Chris, Iris, Chris, Chris, Chris. Bit of a one-track mind, it seemed. Mostly, I curled up on my bed and discussed the finer art of respecting each other’s personal space with Kevin.

But that evening, I pulled myself together enough to sit on the couch with Mama and Sue and Iris. My stomach felt like it was trying to fight its way out of my body.

The segment started right on time, first with a produced piece about Chris’s work with the Children’s Heart Fund and a little about why he was so passionate about helping kids and families affected by congenital heart defects.

“Oh, he is such a sweet man,” Mama said. “You got a good one there, Maebe.”

“He is a snack,” Sue said. “Just wanna take a bite out of him, ya know.”

“Sue,” Mama said, “that’s my future son-in-law.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be allowed to be seen in public looking that good.”

“He’s okay,” Iris mumbled. Which was high praise in Iris-speak.

He did look good in his dark jeans and button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up so he was showing a scandalous amount of forearm.

The interviewer, Phoebe Mayfield, who’d become every woman’s favorite reporter after calling out her ex-fiancé in a blistering set down on TV, smiled brightly at the camera. “Chris, I’m so glad you could join us today.”

The camera panned out and showed Phoebe and Chris sitting across from each other. Chris nodded, his face serious. “I’m glad to be here, but I wondered if I could ask a favor?”

Phoebe smiled. “Of course.”

“I have something I need to say. Would you mind if I made a statement right now?”

"Oh, yes,” she said, her expression curious. “Go right ahead.”