plastic. There was Amy Robach from NBC, Megyn Kelly from FOX. What about Samantha Brown from the Travel Channel ? That was it.
“Hey, you. Melissa,” Joe said. “You’re over-thinking this.”
“You’re right. Give me a sec.”
He understood. Joe was someone I really trusted. The lines on the teleprompter flew backwards.
Shoulders down, arms relaxed at my sides, hands laid lightly on the desk, I was ready.
“All set?”
I thought about beaches in California, my daughter Kelly, and smiled into the camera.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 21
Sunday morning, my emotions bounced from thrilled to worried and back again. Where was Chris? How would Monday night go?
I cleaned the house. I finished the laundry. Talked to Kelly, twice. I straightened and re-arranged my closet. Again.
By the time I started dinner, my excitement and anxiety had softened to manageable level. There was something therapeutic about chopping carrots and peppers into bite-sized pieces with a huge knife.
Mid-slice, the door to the kitchen creaked open. His footsteps echoed in the hallway.
“Hi,” I waved from the counter.
He came to a dead stop. “What’d you do to your hair?” I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or impressed.
“Needed a change,” I said casually, reaching for the wok.
“You look great,” Chris exclaimed. “I mean it.” He grabbed a carrot and popped it in his mouth, then came closer to get a better look. “Any new developments at the station?”
I concentrated on making loops of oil in the pan, then tossed vegetables into the wok. “Not that I know of. I’m counting on Monday being a little crazy.”
If you’d returned my phone calls … I bit my lip instead of saying the words. I wasn’t about to ruin the only decent conversation we’d had in a while.
Chris grimaced. “Yeah, work’s been nuts for me, too.”
“How was Montgomery?”
Chris hoisted himself up and sat on the counter. “It was a good. Very productive. I think we landed a new client. A marketing firm that specializes in corporate imaging.”
“So they make companies more likeable?”
Chris nodded. “In a nutshell. And hopefully more profitable because of it.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Um, sure.” Chris unfolded himself from the countertop, ambled over to the loveseat, and sat down.
I pursed my lips. “Drew’s bringing back Rick Roberts in Tim’s place. You remember him, right?”
My husband nodded and shrugged.
“And I told you, someone has to replace Alyssa. I’m filling in, but I’m not sure it’ll be permanent. Or that I want it to be,” I added quickly. “I’m not sure.”
I hoped he’d catch the hint and suggest that I go for it. Give me a vote of confidence. But being the left-brained guy he is, my husband didn’t pick up on the subtle suggestion.
Chris rubbed his hands together and watched the screen. “Doesn’t Drew have the final say? And isn’t it subjective? For instance, who you like isn’t necessarily who I like.”
“That’s true.” I pressed Chris again. “But why are people drawn to certain anchors? Is it being good-looking? Or the way they dress, a sense of humor, being professional?”
“If I had to narrow it down, the ones who grab my attention are smart, interesting, and seem to care. They have a spark,” Chris said finally.
“A spark?” I repeated.
“Something special.”
His phone buzzed.
Part of me wanted to jump up and kiss him, get him to ignore the caller. The other part told me not to bother. Chris was already getting up from the table and checking his messages, ready to dash out the door.
For once in my life, I wasn’t going to let him just leave. “What’s going on?”
Chris froze in front of me.
“Is it something urgent?”
He shook his head, reluctantly moved back to his chair, his shoulders hunched up, eyes darting around the room.
I forced myself to sit and wait. The silence was killing me. My heart wanted to pound out of my chest.
When
“Hey, you. Melissa,” Joe said. “You’re over-thinking this.”
“You’re right. Give me a sec.”
He understood. Joe was someone I really trusted. The lines on the teleprompter flew backwards.
Shoulders down, arms relaxed at my sides, hands laid lightly on the desk, I was ready.
“All set?”
I thought about beaches in California, my daughter Kelly, and smiled into the camera.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 21
Sunday morning, my emotions bounced from thrilled to worried and back again. Where was Chris? How would Monday night go?
I cleaned the house. I finished the laundry. Talked to Kelly, twice. I straightened and re-arranged my closet. Again.
By the time I started dinner, my excitement and anxiety had softened to manageable level. There was something therapeutic about chopping carrots and peppers into bite-sized pieces with a huge knife.
Mid-slice, the door to the kitchen creaked open. His footsteps echoed in the hallway.
“Hi,” I waved from the counter.
He came to a dead stop. “What’d you do to your hair?” I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or impressed.
“Needed a change,” I said casually, reaching for the wok.
“You look great,” Chris exclaimed. “I mean it.” He grabbed a carrot and popped it in his mouth, then came closer to get a better look. “Any new developments at the station?”
I concentrated on making loops of oil in the pan, then tossed vegetables into the wok. “Not that I know of. I’m counting on Monday being a little crazy.”
If you’d returned my phone calls … I bit my lip instead of saying the words. I wasn’t about to ruin the only decent conversation we’d had in a while.
Chris grimaced. “Yeah, work’s been nuts for me, too.”
“How was Montgomery?”
Chris hoisted himself up and sat on the counter. “It was a good. Very productive. I think we landed a new client. A marketing firm that specializes in corporate imaging.”
“So they make companies more likeable?”
Chris nodded. “In a nutshell. And hopefully more profitable because of it.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Um, sure.” Chris unfolded himself from the countertop, ambled over to the loveseat, and sat down.
I pursed my lips. “Drew’s bringing back Rick Roberts in Tim’s place. You remember him, right?”
My husband nodded and shrugged.
“And I told you, someone has to replace Alyssa. I’m filling in, but I’m not sure it’ll be permanent. Or that I want it to be,” I added quickly. “I’m not sure.”
I hoped he’d catch the hint and suggest that I go for it. Give me a vote of confidence. But being the left-brained guy he is, my husband didn’t pick up on the subtle suggestion.
Chris rubbed his hands together and watched the screen. “Doesn’t Drew have the final say? And isn’t it subjective? For instance, who you like isn’t necessarily who I like.”
“That’s true.” I pressed Chris again. “But why are people drawn to certain anchors? Is it being good-looking? Or the way they dress, a sense of humor, being professional?”
“If I had to narrow it down, the ones who grab my attention are smart, interesting, and seem to care. They have a spark,” Chris said finally.
“A spark?” I repeated.
“Something special.”
His phone buzzed.
Part of me wanted to jump up and kiss him, get him to ignore the caller. The other part told me not to bother. Chris was already getting up from the table and checking his messages, ready to dash out the door.
For once in my life, I wasn’t going to let him just leave. “What’s going on?”
Chris froze in front of me.
“Is it something urgent?”
He shook his head, reluctantly moved back to his chair, his shoulders hunched up, eyes darting around the room.
I forced myself to sit and wait. The silence was killing me. My heart wanted to pound out of my chest.
When
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