I try my best not to call or text Katie, but by mid-afternoon I’m tempted to give in. I told myself I could handle this new crisis on my own. And I did. I contacted a lawyer and met with him at eleven. He told me I really didn’t have much to stand on. Lisa didn’t reveal my address, didn’t show my face, and the footage that was broadcast was grainy and distorted at best.

My legal name wasn’t mentioned. As Will Monroe I’m a public figure, he reminded me. If Lisa had blasted my new name everywhere, my address, every little detail, then maybe I could go after her. Otherwise, I had to grin and bear it.

“Bet you could demand payment for an interview and they’d give it to you,” the lawyer suggested gently. “Or you could probably get a book deal out of this. I’m sure plenty of publishers would love to hear your side of the story.”

Yeah. He’s probably right. But do I want to write a book about the bullshit that was my life? I don’t think so.

When I returned home, I almost expected the media to be hanging out in front of my house, but thank God that didn’t happen. Nothing happened really. I thought I’d hear from Lisa Swanson, but she hasn’t contacted me so far, either.

The entire day has been surreal. I’m on the morning news, used as bait for dear old Dad’s interview, but other than that, it’s business as usual. I’m almost . . . disappointed. Which is fucking mental, but what can I say? I’m used to the media circus. It’s been a part of my life off and on for years and I believed they’d come running.

I almost feel like this is a test. And I’m on the cusp of failing.

Molly’s a comfort and I’m so glad I have her. She doesn’t judge, doesn’t have any expectations beyond my feeding her, walking her, and giving her affection. Why did I wait so long to get a dog? She’s just what I need right now, especially since my relationship with Katie is so uncertain.

I’m about to text her when there’s a knock on my door, causing Molly to go into a fit of barking. She runs toward the door, her claws clacking on the wood floor, and I ease up from my spot on the couch, approaching the door cautiously, my phone clutched in my hand. The dog won’t let up; she’s barking so loud it’s hurting my ears, and I use my fiercest voice to make her stop.

“Molly. No.” I send her a stern look and she quiets down to a low, continuous growl. Impressive little guard dog I have.

“Who is it?” I ask, pissed that I never installed that peephole I meant to get when I first moved in.

“It’s me. Katie.”

Oh. Shit. I hurriedly unlock the door, surprised that she’s come by without letting me know. I open the door and she rushes toward me, giving me no chance to say anything in greeting.

“Are you okay?” She grabs hold of my hands and drags me back into the house, shutting and locking the door for me. She scolds Molly kindly. “Why are you barking so ferociously, girly? It’s just me.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, immediately grimacing. “I’m glad you’re here, but you usually call or whatever.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I was busy all morning finishing up a paper that’s due and then I just spent the last hour on the phone with Lisa Swanson. I was so frazzled I came right over here.” She makes a face, looking unsure. “I hope that was okay?”

“It’s always okay,” I say sincerely. “And what do you mean, you were talking to Lisa Swanson?”

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”

I drag her over to the couch and we sit, not pressed up against each other but close enough that we’re in touching distance. I think this is progress. That she came over here on her own is progress, too. But talking to Lisa Swanson? I know whatever she’s about to say is going to piss me off.

“Explain,” I tell her.

She grips her knees, her arms extended, her expression unsure. “I saw the news this morning and I was so angry on your behalf. I knew I had to do something to help you.”

“So you called Lisa?” That’s not going to help anyone.

“Not at first. I told myself this was your battle to fight. I was almost . . . scared to call you and see how you were doing, and I’m sorry,” she admits.

“I didn’t reach out to you because I wanted to handle this shit on my own,” I confess. “Instead of running to you every single time.”

She smiles gently, her eyes kind. “I would’ve helped. I wanted to help. Still do.”

“I know. Thank you. But you’re not telling me how Lisa plays into this.”

“Oh. Well, I was working on the paper and I couldn’t stop thinking about Lisa and her wanting me to participate in the interview. We talked a bunch of times about it. I even met her in person to negotiate a deal with her.”

I frown. “Negotiate a deal?”

She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I told her I wouldn’t do an interview unless you participated, too. At first, it was my way to get back at you. To force you to do an interview when I knew you didn’t want to. But I hoped you would just for the chance to see me.”

She’s always tempting, but when you throw Lisa into the mix, that’s usually a firm no from me.

“But then I realized maybe it would be good if we both did the interview, because if we could make this work between us, our supposed meeting during the interview would make sense, you know? The relationship could start after our televised reunion. And no one could give us grief for that. Maybe. Or they’d give us less grief. I don’t know. It’s all a big mess, really,” she mumbles, waving a dismissive hand.

“This was a few weeks ago, though, right? I turned down Lisa’s offer. I wouldn’t speak with Lisa then, and I’m definitely not going to speak to her now. No way. She’d skewer me alive.”

“Yeah, I turned her down, too, when I heard you weren’t going to do it. But . . . I changed my mind.”

“Katie,” I start, but she holds up a hand, silencing me.

“Hear me out.” She clears her throat, her gaze meeting mine. “She’s trying to manipulate this entire thing and I’m sick of it. Your father is trying to manipulate it, too. Trying to gain sympathy as he’s on his way to be executed. We should do the interview. We need to show them that we’re not scared. We’re not the ones who have something to hide. He is. Your father. He’s the monster, not us. You did nothing wrong. You saved my life.”

My chest aches. That she would do this, open herself to the possible humiliation and tough questions Lisa will most definitely dole out in order to defend me, is an honor. But it also breaks my heart. I can’t let her do this. What if Lisa found out what else I did to Katie? How I lied and tricked her?

“You don’t need to do this for me,” I say, but she shakes her head, her lips thinning.

“It may help you, but my motives are purely selfish. We need to shut this down. I need to show your father that I’m not scared of him. That I can face my demons and defeat them.” She tries to smile, but it’s shaky. “I am doing it for you, too. If we can control the situation, we can control what’s said. No one will find out what’s happened between us recently. We won’t let them.”

“But what if they do find out?” My insides feel like they’re shredding. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt her. “They’ll tear us apart, Katie. Us being together, even as friends, will freak people out. If they ever discovered what really happened . . .”

“They won’t,” she says quickly. “But if they do, then that’s the chance we’ll have to take. Still, I’m betting they won’t.” She dips her head, gazing downward. “I want to do this for you. Please let me.”

I don’t want to go along with her plan, but I don’t want to hurt her, either. “I don’t want to do this.”

Her shoulders go tense, but she doesn’t utter a word.

“But for you, I will,” I finish quietly.

She lifts her head, our gazes meeting. Sticking. She doesn’t look away and neither do I. “So we’re doing this for each other.”

I nod. “For each other.” I don’t miss the unspoken meaning behind our words and neither does she.

“I took Molly to the vet,” I say to fill the silence.

“Really? Already?” The small smile curving her lips is a sight to see. “That’s great.”

“I had to make sure she was okay.” She probably thinks I’m a softie, but I don’t care. I sort of am—but only when it comes to my dog and Katie. “She’s fine. Got some shots and those made her sleepy, but otherwise, she’s healthy.”

Her smile fades. “So. Are you going to call Lisa?”

Nice change of subject, though pretty abrupt. “Not yet.” I shake my head. “I’ll text her later.”

“Do it now,” she insists. “Or else you probably never will.”

I crack a smile, though it’s hard. I don’t feel much like smiling when it comes to dealing with Lisa. “Have you always been this pushy?”

“No,” she says simply. “I used to be. And then I wasn’t. But now I’m trying to dig back up my courage.”

“So I’m your test subject.”

“Unfortunately for you, yes.” She nods. “And by the way, the interview’s happening in San Francisco. She wanted to use the local affiliate’s studio there.”

“When exactly is it going to happen?” Dread fills me. I don’t want to do this at all. I really am doing this just for her. No other reason. I’d rather face a firing squad than Lisa and her persistent, never-ending questions.

“Wednesday afternoon, one o’clock. The entire interview, including your—father, is going to air Thursday. They bumped it. The interview was originally scheduled for next week.” She pauses. “That was Lisa’s intent all along, I think. To bump it up by exposing you.”

“Shit, Katie. That’s crazy. That’s less than two days away.” I shake my head. “I need to find a place for Molly to stay. The vet has a kenneling service, so I’ll give them a call.”

“Oh good.” She literally wrings her hands together. She knows I’m not pleased with how quickly this interview is happening.

“We’re falling right into her hands, you know,” I tell her, my voice low. “This is exactly what she wants. It’s probably some sort of trap.”

“We have to think faster than her, that’s all.” She shrugs. “Besides, at least we’ll get it over with.”

That’s one way to look at it. “We’ll go together. I’ll drive.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s crazy to travel separately.”

“And it’s risky to travel together.” Her point is valid, but I don’t care. I want her with me.

“Come on, Katie. We can make this work. And no way am I going to let you drive to San Francisco by yourself.”

“I can handle it.” She actually looks offended.

“Let me do this. I don’t like the thought of you going there alone,” I insist gently. This has nothing to do with me believing she can’t handle anything by herself and is all about needing her close to me. A purely selfish motivation on my part.

“I can take care of myself,” she sniffs.

“Yeah, you can,” I agree. Better than anyone gives her credit for.

Including myself.