The tea is too hot, and the dressing room at CNN’s headquarters is too cold.

Me?

I am blank. I am nothing.

The makeup artist, a woman named Shelly, starts with foundation and builds from there. “It’s still so cold early in the morning. I have a shawl, if you want it.”

I’m dressed in my best suit, my coat over my bare knees. I don’t want the shawl. I want to feel the cold. I want the cold to pierce the numbness around my heart so the pain can rise to the surface.

I keep waiting to be devastated, but I feel empty.

“No, I’m all right.”

“Where is she?” The familiar voice is like the rumble of the earth before an earthquake. “I’m looking for Bellamy Leighton. Where is she?”

“Is that you?” Shelly whispers.

“Yes.”

“Mrs. Blackpool is in here,” Shelly calls, and a moment later Everest bursts through the door.

“Hi.” She drops her purse onto the counter beside Shelly’s tools and gapes at me. Somehow, she is freshly showered, her hair in a bun on the top of her head, looking as if she didn’t just dance the night away at D.C.’s biggest wedding in ten years. “What the hell is going on?”

My bottom lip quivers. It must be a reflex, because I still feel numb. Shelly steps back. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

She disappears into the hallway and Evie comes to the side of the makeup chair. We look at each other in the mirror.

“Spill.”

“Did you see the news?”

“The news about the president’s godson?” She makes scare quotes with her fingers around that word. “Uh, yeah. Nobody could miss it. It’s been everywhere.”

“It’s not his godson.”

Everest’s eyebrows shoot up toward the ceiling.

“It’s his father’s son. From an affair. Ten years ago.”

“What the fuck?”

“Evie...” My lip trembles in earnest now, and I raise a hand to my mouth to try and stop it. “This has all been a horrible mistake.”

“Stop.” Evie turns to me with both hands raised. “What’s a mistake? Are you having cold feet about the wedding? You can’t blame Graham for the sins of the father. Literally.”

“It’s not—” My throat clenches. “It’s not just that. The president—” I shake my head. “I don’t have time to explain all this. The broadcast is in half an hour.”

“Cliffs notes,” she says. “I don’t need all the details.” Everest braces herself. I see it in the way she straightens her spine and plants her feet.

“The president asked Graham and I to fake a relationship for the press. Because of the rumors that I was prostitute.”

“What? No, he didn’t.”

I force the words out. “I know it sounds impossible, but it’s not. Things escalated. The situation in Bahara—he even wanted to move the wedding up.”

“And you agreed.” Everest shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, you do love him, so all’s well that ends well.”

“That’s the thing. It’s not ending well. I’m here because I have to tell them the truth.”

“Tell who the truth?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “CNN?”

“The country. Everybody. They need to know that the president isn’t the one at fault for this. They need to know that his parents are fucking crazy.”

“I wouldn’t use those words—”

“I’m not going to say fucking crazy on live television, but Evie—” I grab her hand. “Am I crazy? Is this insane? The President of the United States is acting as a shield for his own parents at the expense of the country. I have a duty to do something about it. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

“Other people probably could.” Everest considers me. “But you’ve always had a fetish for justice.”

I bury my head in my hands. “I’m crazy. You’re right.” One deep breath. “I’ll cancel this whole thing.”

“Girl.” Evie’s voice is calm, despite the fact that it’s five in the morning and I called her three times to beg her to come. “You do what you think is best.”

“He’d be so free.” I feel my eyelids lose their grip on a single tear.

“Who? The President?”

“Graham. They’ve been using him as a pawn all along. To keep the attention away from the family and the White House. He’s just a scapegoat.”

Everest laughs. “He definitely is a playboy.”

“Not anymore.”

“You’re right. That wasn’t kind of me. He was a playboy, until he met you, the love of his life. Under insane circumstances, by the way. That’ll be one for the grandkids. Hey, wait. Where is he?”

I can’t speak.

If I speak, I will sob.

Oh—there it is. There’s the gnawing pit of his absence, right where my heart is supposed to be. I cover my mouth with my hand.

“Belle?”

I don’t have a lot of time until Shelly comes back in, until it’s time to sit in front of the cameras and tell the truth.

“He kicked me out. He—he was angry. He didn’t want me to do this. It’s over.” It’s a ragged whisper. It’s the only sound I can make.

Her eyes could pop out of her head. “He dumped you over this?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, man.” Everest puts her fingertips to her lips. “That was a mistake.”

“Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ll only ever be singleminded like this. Maybe doing this is the straw that’ll break the camel’s back.”

“Or maybe you’re both tired as fuck.” Everest tilts her head to the side, playing devil’s advocate. “Maybe weddings are exhausting to begin with, and this one was a thousand times more exhausting. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said.”

“I meant what I said.” It’s awful, that kernel at the bottom of everything—the moral compass that drove me straight through law school and to this chair, in this dressing room.

Everest goes quiet. “Did you mean it when you said you’d love him for the rest of your lives?”

I suck in a deep breath and try not to crumble under the onslaught. “Yes. I meant that too.”

“Then do what you have to do.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “He’ll see.”