J

Lisa had just started eating her omelet when her little weasel manager, David Ardazzio, walked into the hotel restaurant to collect her. The hand that was tenderly stroking my thigh in private under the table suddenly stilled and tightened.

David, of course, had to adjust his wristwatch; his way of saying "it's time to go" without appearing like a dickhead, I suppose. My eyes narrowed, giving him my own silent message in return, one that boldly said, "Mess with my love anymore today and I will dig my fork into your chest to find out if there really is a heart in there." Hah! My first twenty-four hours in L.A. and I was already becoming cynical and hostile.

Considering I had just spent the better part of the last forty minutes trying to get Lisa to lose the murderous scowl on her face—five of said minutes were spent just holding her in the shower so we could apologize for loving each other—my hostility was justified. I'd like to think that precious water supply could have been used for much better purposes, like to wash off the sweat from our interrupted wake-up sex or even better, initiate a second session of incredibly hot shower sex after incredibly hot wake-up sex.

But no, sadly, we used the water to bathe, mask our disappointments, and attempt to exorcise unwanted demons from our thoughts.

The only reason Lisa was appearing somewhat lively and animated now was that her mother was sitting across the table from us, all shiny and happily oblivious. We both knew that all it would take was one slip and she would press for details. Lord knows neither of us was in the mood to be interrogated by Mom.

Lisa had enough on her plate. Her day was packed with one-on-one interviews, a photo call, an open-panel QA with the press, and at the end a TV appearance on The Jimmy Collins Show. Taping was scheduled for 5 P.M.

"Ready to go, Lis?" Mike Murphy, Lisa's personal bodyguard, asked as he slowly rose from the large dining table. Mike took extra care wiping his lips off on his linen napkin and then ran his hand through his short, dark brown hair, stalling while Lisa quickly shoveled more breakfast into her mouth.

I was so relieved that Mike had stuck with Lisa all these months. He was the only person within Lisa's entourage that I truly trusted. He was there with us in the hospital when I lost the baby. He shielded us diligently when we dealt with our psycho-fan stalker and was by our sides so many other times that I lost count.

Lisa considered Mike to be one of her best friends and I regarded him as our own personal savior.

I glanced across the table and noticed Hyunji trying not to be conspicuous with her gaze, but I knew better. She and I had been best friends for so long; I knew the look she wore when she was stripping a man naked in her brain. And right now she had the former marine flat on his back on top of this table begging for her mercy. Can't say I blame her. Mike was thirty-two, very single, six foot three with an incredibly buff body, and to say he was merely good-looking would be insulting.

"Gotta go, babe," Lisa said in my ear before she kissed me quickly, snapping me out of my internal speculations. She patted her jeans pocket. "You need anything, just call me. I have my phone set on vibrate. Mike gave you all of the security details for the show tonight and you have our credit card and stuff if you need it. Have fun shopping. Whatever you ladies want, get. All right?"

"Got it."

She gave me a hard, stern stare. "I mean it."

That was her way of reminding me to get over my issues with spending her money.

"I know you do. I understand."

"Good."

She leaned in to give me another kiss.

"Get something sexy to wear for me," she growled on my lips. "A few somethings, okay?"

I was glad to know thoughts of me in lacy undergarments were helping her step out of her funk. "You bet. Slutty towels in every color just for you." Just as the words left my lips, I noticed one of the waitstaff take our picture on a cell phone.

Lisa tipped my chin and gave me a renewed smile, grinning at our private joke, oblivious to the girl stealing a piece of our moment. "That's my girl. I'll see you later."

While everyone finished their breakfasts and chitchatted, I found myself getting lost in my thoughts again from the void left behind by Lisa's empty chair.

I pushed a piece of pineapple around on my plate, still feeling the tingle she left on my lips, wishing she didn't have to rush so much, and hating that no private moment in public was sacred.

Hyunji and her husband, Gary, started sniping at each other again, pulling my attention with their hushed argument. They'd been fighting a lot lately, even getting into a heated argument on Sunday at our impromptu engagement party held at their house. Gary had been so mad, he ended up getting in his car and leaving, causing everyone there to feel as though we were intruding. Every time I asked Hyunji what was going on she'd casually dismiss it, simply stating that he was being an ass again.

So I didn't probe. Instead I drifted off into my own dilemmas, thinking how my mental breakdown over the last few weeks was such a ridiculous waste of energy. Had I known then what I knew now, all of the extra anguish and heartache swirling around the edges of my thoughts could have been avoided.

I glanced over at my other girlfriend, Tammy, who was buttering a piece of toast while her soon-to-be husband, my longtime friend Fred, talked and laughed heartily with Lisa's brother and sister-in-law, Nick and Janelle. Lisa had arranged for everyone important in our lives to be here. Another reason I loved her dearly.

As I took in the faces of my most cherished support crew, a sad thought occurred to me.

While two weeks ago in Miami I had carried on uncontrollably like an immature little girl, crying and insisting that Lisa had cheated on me with Rosé Park, all of the people sitting at this table had known that she was going to propose.

How long had they all known her intentions? Weeks? Months?

Suddenly I felt like a huge ass all over again, quite embarrassed by my completely irrational behavior when my friends had to break my bedroom door down to get to me. I had been physically and emotionally broken, locking myself away from the world while thoughts of Lisa being unfaithful tore me to shreds.

No wonder Hyunji slapped me across the face when I became somewhat hysterical. I must have looked like a blithering idiot to all of them.

But I couldn't stop the flood once it started. It drowned me.

I stared at the blank whiteness of the tablecloth. How close I came to ruining this relationship—ending it, actually. Well, no more of that. Lisa has been nothing but faithful and trustworthy. She adores me and I want her more than I want my next breath.

"Jennie?"

Fingers touched my shoulder, startling me. Trish was standing behind me; her golden hair was pulled back by the sunglasses that rested on top of her head.

"Are you ladies ready?" Trish asked.

With a smile, I nodded and grabbed my purse. A large, chauffeured Suburban pulled up to the front doors and all of the ladies climbed in. Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the "hall of many dresses."

Well anyway, that's what Hyunji called it. She was right.

"Oh, what a day," Trish sighed, eyeing a shimmery, burgundy-colored Prada gown. I had separated myself from everyone else to follow her through the rows.

"Bet you're glad to be out here instead of in the office," I commented, figuring she was enjoying shopping more than working.

"You have no idea." Trish exhaled with relief. "Especially since she is on the warpath today."

I frowned slightly, pitying all of those poor people who had to deal with Marla on a regular basis.

"I still don't understand why she's so angry about things," I muttered.

"I do," Trish said, fumbling for her BlackBerry, which had just beeped. "She found out from the sleazy tabloids that her number-one client got engaged. Be glad that you missed that. She went absolutely ballistic."

"I already know she despises me," I grumbled quietly. "And that little-known fact adds a ton of stress on Lisa."

"Don't feel special. She hates everyone," Trish said matter-of-factly, as her thumbs pushed a few buttons on her cell. "I've been with her for seven years and she still doesn't like me."

I flipped the tag over on a cream-colored dress. "Well, I didn't like the way she talked to Lisa this morning. She yelled at her like she was a child and I sort of wanted to punch her."

"I wish you would have," Trish said under her breath.

"Hate her that much, too?" I asked jokingly, following her around to the next rack of dresses.

Trish snickered uncomfortably. "Some days are worse than others. Unfortunately in this town, it's hard to catch a break, no matter how skilled you are. That's why so many actors are waiters. And PR? If you're not with an established firm, you starve. Since I like to eat, I've learned to shut my mouth and do as I'm told."

This morning's badgering continued to plague me. "Trish, really, is it that bad that people know about our engagement?"

She paused. "Well . . . it is her personal business that's out there now." She moved a little closer. "Did she really stand on a table when she proposed?"

I sheepishly smirked and nodded to confirm.

Trish's grin widened. "Can I see the ring?" she asked excitedly, requesting my hand. "Wow, it's gorgeous! So that's what half a million looks like. I'm so glad she went with William Goldberg. His rings are absolutely breathtaking. I love the huge trillions on the sides." She laughed lightly while inspecting my ring. "This was definitely, definitely worth the trouble! Flawless . . ."

I didn't understand; my brain seized when she let it slip how much Lisa spent on my ring. I shook my head, trying to prevent the high-pitched ringing and the urge to pass out from taking over. "Um . . . ahh. What do you mean? What trouble?"

"Sneaking Lisa around to meet jewelry designers?" she said tentatively. "I spent hours coordinating that. No offense, Jennie, but I was relieved when you couldn't make it to the Academy Awards. I was freaking out trying to arrange a meeting without you knowing about it."

My mind traveled back to the end of February, when I was recovering after being hit by a car and missed my first opportunity to be with her at the Oscars. I glanced at my hand, grateful to her in so many ways.

"Well, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all of your hard work. I truly appreciate it."

Just then something else dawned on me. "Wait . . . if you helped her get my ring then why is Marla so mad? I mean she obviously knew . . ."

Trish looked guilty. "She knew she bought a ring but Marla, being the evil bitch that she is, tried to ta—you know what? It doesn't matter."

I should have figured as much. "She tried to talk her out of it," I muttered, finishing her sentence. "I'm bad for her career."

Trish looked baffled. "Why would you think that?"

I'm surprised she had to ask. After all, it was her boss that did everything except say those exact words out loud. Marla's actions and comments certainly got that message across. "What about the fans? Are they going to turn on her like that if she's not single anymore?"

Trish laughed quietly at my apparently silly question. "Her fans are not going to turn on her unless she starts making shitty films. I can't believe she's telling her to avoid it with Jimmy Collins tonight, though. Bad, bad, bad . . . ," she muttered, shaking her head.

I stared at her, questioning why she felt that way, especially since she was working so hard to impress the evil bitch.

Trish pursed her lips, then smiled at a little black dress. "What do you think of this one for your friend Hyunji? I think this would look fabulous on her. All of the gowns that we preselected for you are in the dressing area. You'll have to try them on. And now that you two are officially engaged, we need to get you lined up for all your appearance dresses. First rule of fashion, always know who designed your dress. It's the first question anyone asks."

I barely looked at the dress she held up. "Trish, talk to me. What should she do?"

"Nothing. Everything will go on the account and—"

"No, not about the dresses. The interview tonight. You seem to think she should handle it differently. Lisa thought Marla was going to tell her to admit our engagement. If it was up to you, what would you tell her?"

Trish recoiled. "Jennie, I can't tell you that! Besides, if Marla ever finds out that I advised you, she'll fire me on the spot. I can't."

I followed her around a circular rack of dresses, searching for a new angle. I wanted to hear her opinion now more than anything. "Okay. Well, what if I hired you to represent me—then would you advise me?"

She turned and looked at me, completely shocked. "You don't understand. I don't have any clients—Marla does. I have a tiny shithole apartment that I can barely afford, a crappy car, and college loans I'll still be paying on when I die an old lady."

"Trish?" I encouraged. "I swear, no one will ever know. Our secret."

Trish took a deep breath. "Ahh," she groaned, glancing around the store. "If she ever finds out that I talked to you, I swear I'm coming to live with you and Lisa when I'm homeless.

"The story is already out there," she continued, "backed up with picture evidence. All those women, those fans, are clinging to the idea of romance with her and seeing her standing on a table and then down on one knee to propose to you—well that's romantic as all hell. She needs to remain honest."

I nodded in agreement.

"But it's her business. It's her choice and, well . . . yours, whether you want to keep your private life private or not."

"Jeeeeen?" I heard Hyunji call out my name from the dressing room.

Trish's panic was evident. "Shit, if Marla finds out I said anything . . ."

"I won't say anything—I swear—but I wish Lisa would get a second opinion before she goes onstage tonight. She believes everything that Marla tells her."

Trish's eyes flashed to the door when a few new customers walked in. "She already called Jimmy Collins's producer."

I thought about Lisa being in front of the cameras tonight delivering canned, lame answers. "If I get her alone, will you talk to her? You could really make a big difference in her career."

Trish looked shocked. She kept shaking her head. "Jennie, no! I can't!"

"She's going to look like an idiot," I muttered.

"Jennie, did you try on any of your dresses yet?" Lisa's mother, Ellen, asked.

I motioned my answer; I had yet to even look at them. Ellen held up a midnight blue dress, but I was so preoccupied mentally that I only pretended to admire it.

"Come on." Ellen pulled me along by the arm, hailing the stylist with her other hand. "We have to get you focused because we're running short on time."

I tried to put Marla's condescending tirade out of my mind and enjoy the rest of the day, but the moment I saw her following Lisa when she came into the dressing room backstage at The Jimmy Collins Show my overwhelming hatred for the woman came rushing back. And despite Lisa's outward appearance, I knew that just below the surface she was still somewhat forlorn.

I tried to be cheery enough for the both of us; after all, I was excited just being backstage like this, and it helped a lot that her father and Fred were here to lift her spirits. The men were talking about the Stanley Cup playoffs, joking that they were going to relocate their dinner plates by the first television they found in the restaurant tonight. I was thankful that Lisa's brother kept his sarcastic, hurtful comments to himself this time. Lisa had enough on her mind; she didn't need to be pushed over the edge tonight.

Marla was hovering around Lisa. She acted like Lisa was her property, and she was on the defensive, blocking anyone who attempted to come close to her. She rudely interrupted the conversation she was trying to have with her family and I felt my anger flare. It was even more infuriating when she wouldn't make eye contact with me. How petty and childish.

Sadness swirled back in me as she schooled her on the appropriate responses she should give during the interview to deflect any surprise questions Jimmy Collins might spring on her. Marla's black heart didn't change colors.

I stewed privately, twisting the diamonds on my finger to keep my hands busy while I paced behind the large black leather couch.

Lisa's mother looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Jennie, would you like to sit?" Ellen asked, patting the space next to her on the couch. "Please. Come."

I shook my head slightly, watching my fiancé intently. "That's okay, Mom," I said softly. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

Trish slipped into the room through the closed door. Her eyes darted around, quickly assessing the tension in the room. I hoped she could read my body language to see how upset I was. We all heard Marla clearly when she told Lisa to "try not to screw this up."

My fingers clenched into the back of the couch to keep from lunging at her. Ellen let out a maternal tsk and an audible huff, glaring eye daggers at Marla.

Trish quickly intervened. "Marla, excuse me. An assistant just told me that the stage director is looking for you."

"Now?" Marla questioned. She looked at her watch and collected her bag. "Stay with her," she ordered.

Lisa was sitting in the swivel chair, rubbing her forehead.

Trish appeared conflicted as she sidled up to her chair. "Lisa? Can we talk for a minute?"

Lisa followed her to the back corner of the room.

"So, are you ready? Are you all right with the format?"

Lisa shrugged. "I guess so."

"Trish, just tell her," I pleaded, gazing nervously back at the door. I knew we only had ten minutes, if that, to get Lisa prepped.

"Tell me what?" Lisa asked, confused.

Trish cleared her throat. "You know Collins is going to ask about the proposal regardless."

Lisa sighed. "I know. He wants the exclusive."

"I was just wondering . . . if Marla wasn't advising you, how would you handle it?"

Lisa shrugged. "I don't know. Why?"

Trish took a deep breath. "I think the advice Marla gave you might be a mistake."

Lisa looked at me, questioning why we were doing this to her right before she was due to walk out onstage.

"It's your personal business, Lisa, but look at it this way—if you deny that you're engaged, now that there are pictures and videos, your credibility is going to be worthless." Trish reflexively glanced over her shoulder again to make sure Marla was still nowhere to be seen.

"When Collins brings it up, I think you should admit to it. Don't embellish the story with personal information; just be honest and somewhat open. Your fans are going to cling to you if you expose your sensitive, romantic side," she continued.

"I'm worried about the extra media attention on Jennie," Lisa said, looking worried and guilty at the same time.

"Don't worry about me," I said adamantly. Lisa shot me a look, wordlessly telling me that it was impossible for her to do that.

"If you don't fess up to it now, the media is going to keep pursuing the story and it's going to get worse. Hiding it will only sensationalize it and Collins already knows that Jennie is in the building."

Lisa nodded. "Tomorrow's press conference?"

"Covered, just like today. Still Q-and-A only on the film," she quickly replied.

"But I've spent the entire day avoiding the subject," Lisa stressed.

"I know, but Jimmy is going to put you on the spot out there in front of a live studio audience regardless, so you need to be ready for it. This is a huge story, Lisa, and you know he wants it! Collins is renegotiating his contract with the network and he's looking for the ratings boost. If he gets you to admit it—"

Lisa's eyes widened. "What? Marla never told me that."

Trish searched through her bag and retrieved a sheet of paper, which she immediately handed to Lisa.

"Just having you on the show tonight in light of everything is upping his points. See? You're going to have to respond to it one way or another."

She held back a curse. "How do I handle Night Life tomorrow then?"

"Same way," Trish advised, stuffing the paper evidence back in her bag. "If you open up to Jimmy now, Nigel Allen is going to press even harder for new details tomorrow. His ratings are going to jump just because you acknowledged the engagement tonight—if you choose to do that. But if you do, then you'll have both Collins and Allen in your pocket for further PR. But let's not worry about that now. You've got to concentrate on handling this appearance."

Lisa glanced over to the doorway that led out to the main hallway. "Marla doesn't know about this, does she?" she motioned with her finger, swaying it between the two of us.

"No," I answered. "Trish is sticking her neck out to protect your reputation."

"I'll probably get fired tonight," she huffed. "But anyway, you need to turn scandal into opportunity, Lisa. Treat it with honesty. Jimmy said that if he gets you to talk about your engagement, he's going to try and contrast the romance in the movie back against your admission to keep it moving. I was there when Marla talked to him and his producer just before you came in for your pre-interview."

Lisa blew out a big lungful of air through her pursed lips.

"It's a good segue from your personal business back to the film," Trish advised. "If you choose to talk about it, keep the details on the surface and take your time so you don't blurt out anything too personal."

"Tricia!" Marla barked harshly from the open doorway. Her high heels were clicking forcefully in our direction.

Lisa strolled away, deep in thought when Marla reached us. I thought about going with her just so I wouldn't have to be that close to Marla, but I could not let Trish take the heat alone. After what she just did for us, I was not going to abandon her.

Trish was prepared, calmly deflecting Marla's anger at being called away for nothing with quick answers. I looked away so she wouldn't notice my smirk.

Lisa purposefully walked over to me and gathered my hand in her, pulling me away from Marla. "How are you doing?" she whispered privately.

I gave her my best "doing okay" nod and wink, even though my eyes slid back to see where Marla was. I think she caught my glance because she sighed heavily.

"How are you?" I asked.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, we're ready to seat your guests," a crew member said to Lisa.

"I'll see you later," Lisa whispered, grasping my fingertips to pull me in for a soft kiss.

"Okay, hon. Good luck!" I watched her retreating back as a production assistant led her away.

Our group was ushered out into the hallway so we could take our seats in the studio audience. We had our own section off to the left side of the stage; I sat in the seat next to Lisa's mom. Janelle, Lisa's sister-in-law, sat next to me. Lisa's father, Bill, kept fidgeting in his chair, anxiously waiting like the rest of us for Lisa to make her appearance onstage. Lisa was in the primary guest spot for the show, so she would be up first.

Janelle leaned over. "Are you okay?"

I was staring at one of the TV monitors, twisting my ring. My feet were bouncing up and down on the floor.

I shrugged. "Just nervous, I guess."

"Why?" she questioned me strangely.

I leaned closer. "Photos of her proposal were leaked."

Janelle scoffed. "Ah, so what." And then I think it dawned on her. "Oh, she's going to get asked about it now, isn't she?" she said, appearing happy about it.

I nodded a few times, unwilling to tear my eyes away from the stage.

I held my breath as the camera returned to the host, Jimmy Collins, now seated at his desk after his monologue. His fingers picked at a magazine that lay facedown in front of him.

"Unless you've been living on the dark side of the moon, you know our first guest tonight had her breakout role playing time-traveling hit man Blake Conroy in the hit movie Seaside. She's here tonight to tell us about her latest film, Reparation, which opens in theaters nationwide this Friday. Here she is on the cover of Entertainment Week. Please help me welcome Lisa Manoban!"

Music blared out of the studio sound system as I watched Lisa come out from around the corner. The entire audience sprang from their chairs. Women all around us went absolutely crazy, jumping up and down and shrieking for her. Their screams were ear-piercing.

Lisa waved and smiled, scratching her forehead before being greeted by Jimmy Collins. She looked nervous and totally overwhelmed by their reception.

Lisa leaned forward when she sat down, almost resting her head between her knees from the shock of the audience's continued excitement. I could tell by the expression on her face that she was once again blown away by their devotion. I was glad to see she was still so humbled by it. Janelle leaned closer, excitedly nudging me with her elbow as she clapped for her sister-in-law.

"Your fans come out in masses! Thanks for stopping by here tonight. How have you been?" Jimmy asked Lisa, trying to proceed with the interview. The studio audience finally simmered down just barely enough for us to hear them speak to each other.

"Good! Real good, thanks!" Lisa replied. "Thanks for having me."

"You know, you're not the only one who can make women scream like that," Jimmy teased. "Now if I could just get the women to stop screaming obscenities at me, I'd have this thing set!"

The crowd laughed at his joke.

Lisa snickered uncomfortably and took a sip from the cup they had setting there for her. "Sometimes they scream obscenities at me, too," she admitted.

"I heard you had quite a reception by one of the fans when you arrived here," Jimmy prompted.

"Yeah, I had just gotten out of the car and I was signing a few pictures and whatnot and I looked up and this girl lifted her shirt and flashed her . . . at me." Lisa motioned, appearing both excited and appalled at the same time.

I gasped slightly at hearing the news that some girl showed her breasts to my fiancé.

"Did she want you to sign them?" Jimmy repeated Lisa's motion.

"I honestly don't know if she said anything at all. She was jumping up and down and screaming." She laughed. "It was hard to hold a conversation with things, um, bouncing like that."

Jimmy laughed and continued on. "That's funny! So how are things? I think the last time you were here was about six months ago and we were talking about Seaside."

The women in the audience went berserk from hearing that word.

Lisa looked out at the audience, shaking her head in amazement at their devotion.

"And I can see that the fan reaction has tripled since then. Wow!" Jimmy rubbed his ear. "It's like pressing a hot button. Anytime I want to get my wife in the mood, I just burst into the bedroom and yell 'Seaside' and she instantly starts tearing her clothes off."

Lisa laughed uncomfortably. "Glad to hear it works for you."

"Of course it helps when I'm wearing my 'Blake' mask. I mean you and I are built so much alike that she can hardly tell the difference," Jimmy joked, noticeably rolling his eyes to get a laugh out of the crowd.

"So how's life been treating you?" Jimmy asked.

"Things are great. Really great! I just came from Miami, where I've been shooting a movie called Thousand Miles. It's a bit of a thriller."

That's it, honey, pitch your movies. Keep the tempo going.

"And in like another two weeks I'll be back on set in Vancouver for my next project," Lisa said, nervously scratching her neck.

"And what's that?" Jimmy asked.

"It's a film called Slipknot. Jonathan Follweiler is directing it. This will be my first time working on a project with him, which is very exciting. And I get to do a little rock climbing, which I'm really looking forward to trying. It's something that I've never done before. A little danger."

"I hear you've been practicing for it, though. Climbing on tables and stuff?" Jimmy goaded Lisa with his comment, raising his eyebrows and tapping the note cards he held in his hand on the desk to get a rise out of the audience.

Laughter exploded all around us. I watched to see if Lisa's expression would change, and sure enough, she flushed with embarrassment.

Jimmy quickly fired off his next question. "Now is the second Seaside finished or are you still working on that, too?"

Lisa fidgeted, adjusted her posture in the chair. "No, we're finished. We wrapped in December."

As if on cue, the audience screamed again.

"And where did you film that?"

"We filmed this one in a little town called Seaport in Rhode Island. It's a beautiful place right on the coast."

My breath hitched.

"And . . . what did you do while you were there? Meet anyone special?" Jimmy asked with the inflection of a nosey mother.

Lisa's mouth opened and closed a few times; she appeared at a loss for words as she nervously scratched her forehead and squirmed in her chair.

Like a flash, in fast-forward I envisioned Lisa saying nine different answers, one right after the other.

My hopes rested on the one where she points at me and tells the world that she's madly in love.

"We met a lot of nice people there," she admitted slyly, smiling out at the audience when they screamed their excitement again. Lisa glanced over in my direction and, for a brief moment, I think our eyes met. "Everyone was great to us."

I smiled proudly at my future wife.

"So, Lisa, you know everyone wants to know so I'm just going to ask. There are all these rumors flying around and pictures of you climbing on tables. So please—put these poor women out of their misery already and tell us. Are you an engaged person now?"

My fingers reflexively clenched the armrest as I held every bit of oxygen in my lungs, waiting . . . anticipating. Jimmy had defied the interview agreements and put Lisa on the spot.

Lisa smirked, looking bashful and guilty, and for a moment I thought she was just going to blurt it out, as if the news she held so privately would just gush from her lips.

As quickly as it came, I saw the exact moment when it left.

"When aren't I engaged?" Lisa bantered, trying to be funny. "Let's just say I'm very, very happy and in a very good place in my life."

The audience responded with a few outbursts and claps, but that was that—a fleeting moment—gone.

Not one mention about her personal life or the woman she pledged her undying love to from the top of a barroom table in front of her parents, my friends, and a crowd of strangers.

Physical disappointment pricked like a thousand needles into my arms, my chest, finally forcing my reluctant lungs to exhale.

Why didn't she just . . . ?

Janelle looked at me with apologetic eyes, apparently feeling sorry for me. I slid my eyes away, refraining from engaging her pity.

After all this time, after all the reports and press, after the printed speculation of our engagement, I was still a part of her life to be publicly disavowed.