Page 100 of The Mistletoe Makeover

At least I wasn’t stupid enough to confess my feelings to him. I can still walk out of here with my chin held high.

I stop near the door and look at him. “Jace, I hope tonight is everything you dreamed it would be. Not just for your career, but for you. And I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for.”

Jace looks like he wants to say something, but just then his manager appears in the door. “There’s a reporter out here.”

“I didn’t know about any reporter,” Jace says. “I’m not taking interviews before my last rehearsal.”

“She’s not looking for you,” Allan replies. “She wants to talk with Mia.”

“Mia?” he repeats.

“My mother arranged this,” I stammer, glancing at Allan.

Jace gives me a questioning glare. I want to reassure him I did nothing wrong, but so many things are wrong right now, I can’t handle one more strained conversation.

Jace shakes his head, like he doesn’t care. “I’ve got a concert to get ready for.” Then he dismisses me with a look.

I storm out the door and nearly run over the reporter in the lobby.

“Miss MacPherson?” She’s not the same reporter who took our picture in the theater. It’s a middle-aged woman I don’t recognize.

“Are you from theMaplewood News?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “The Boston Globe.”

Why wouldThe Boston Globewant to interview me? An uneasy feeling swirls inside me. The woman gives me a practiced smile, like we’re old friends. “I have connections to your local newspaper. We heard that you and Jace Knight have been seen together?”

I blink. She’s digging for news on his personal life and she found the picture from our local paper.

I straighten my spine. “Of course we’ve been seen together. I’m his assistant.”

She keeps her frozen smile leveled on me. “Some people are speculating you’re in a romantic relationship. Is it true?”

I shake my head. “No,” I say without wavering. At least now I don’t have to lie.

“Can you explain what your connection is, then?”

I fold my arms. “It’snone of your business.”

I turn to go, but she keeps talking. “What do you think about the comment inThe New York Timesabout this concert being a Christmas flop?”

I wheel around to face her, angry she’d call Jace a flop. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“An undisclosed source indicated his new songs were entirely different. He’s not known for love ballads.”

“He hasn’t played any of his new songs for a crowd yet.”

“But a few people have heard the early versions. Are you one of them?”

For a moment, I consider denying it, because I want her to leave. But something stops me. A surge of energy rises inside me, a desire to make one last sacrifice for Jace.

I’ve got to change the angle of this story, for his sake. He’s clawed his way out of career setbacks and depression and, finally, gotten brave enough to write new music. He won’t ever see my comment.

I swallow hard. “I’ve heard his new music.”

“And what did you think?” she says. “Are these new songs going to ruin Jace’s career?”

“Whoever made that comment is dead wrong.” I step toward her to make sure she records every word. Even if we’re not meant for each other, I won’t let someone else destroy him again. “These are the best songs he’s ever written. Probably his biggest hits yet. His fans are finally going to see therealJace Knight. And they’re going to love him even more.”

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