"There are some things that're more important than that. Like you." She blew out a deep breath. "I'm worried about your father."
"What about your mother?"
She shrugged. "My mother… is a pain in the ass."
"I know that. But she's going to freak."
"She already did. She screamed at me and threatened to come out here."
I scrubbed my hands over my face. The idea of seeing Caroline Barton again exhausted me. "Great."
"I know, right?" Lowell groaned.
We just snuggled against each other, each of us lost in our thoughts.
"What do you want to do tomorrow, Lo? During the interview?"
She looked at me again, her eyes searching my face. Then she smiled. "We're going to do the right thing, babe. Together. From here on out."
* * *
We had scheduled the interview for the ass crack of dawn. I groaned when the alarm beeped. I slammed it off then reached for Lowell's nipple and rubbed it slowly with my thumb. I kissed her shoulder, feeling heat shoot through me.
"Mmmm," she said, then she sat bolt upright. "Kyle. Stop." She swatted me off of her. "We've got work to do."
I groaned again. "Do you think you're always gonna be so Type-A?"
She shot me a filthy look. "You can play with my boobs later.
Now shush. You're gonna wake up the others."
She bustled around the room, and I took small comfort in her promise about her boobs and later.
Lowell made me wear a suit, claiming that I would look dashing and respectable. I knew what she really meant was that I wouldn't look remotely like a hooker, but that was fine with me. She chose a simple white dress that showed off her curves, which she was apparently through with hiding.
The network showed up, and they did our hair and makeup.
"There," the artist told me, putting a final puff of powder on my nose. "You're gorgeous."
I flashed him a smile. "I kind of get that a lot." I needed to feel some bravado right now to counteract the nervous boulder of dread sitting like deadweight in the center of my stomach.
"I bet you do, honey. I bet you do," he said as he hustled off.
I turned around to find Lowell watching me with raised eyebrows.
"Are you flirting?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Maybe a little."
"Aww, you're nervous." She took my hand. "Don't be. We're gonna be all right."
I laced my fingers through hers. "If you say so."
She leaned against me. "I do."
* * *
Lucas sent over his PR person, Jenny, a grim, razor-thin woman with black nail polish and a cool haircut. Gigi tried to make small talk with her but finally gave up. Jenny smiled at no one and constantly tapped things into her phone. She was sitting in the room with some of the network's crew, and I had a feeling she would get a nasty surprise today.