as much confidence as I can. “Sir? Can you take us to the set of Good Morning USA?”
He looks me up and down. “Are you hurt, ma’am?”
“What? No! Why?” I ask.
He points to my hair. “Because you look, well, like maybe you’ve been attacked.”
I run my hands over my hair. It has, to be honest, reached previously unheard-of levels of unkempt, and that’s coming from someone who spends most of her days alone. Perhaps this is not the best look to confess my love to Drew in.
As if she can read my thoughts, Chloe steps between me and the taxi driver. “No. No. You cannot back out now. We’re in New York; we’re minutes away from Drew. You can do this. He doesn’t care what you look like.”
I turn to Nick and Don. “Do I really look that bad?”
Nick politely looks away, and Don says, “You’ve looked better.”
In a gentle voice, Chloe says, “You’re wearing a leopard-print coat over a Pizza Slut T-shirt. It’s not a glamorous look, hon. But Drew doesn’t care, okay? He’ll want to see you, not some lady in a beautiful dress. Like Yoda says, just do it.”
“That’s not actually what Yoda—” Uncle Don starts.
Chloe holds up a hand, still looking at me. “So not the point, Don.”
“If you aren’t getting in, move out of the way,” the driver says, no longer concerned about me now that he knows I’m not escaping an attack.
“Okay, okay,” I say, sliding into the back seat. “Let’s go.”
* * *
• • •
Our driver lets us out at the edge of a small crowd, facing the back of the outdoor stage, although we’re about ten rows of people away from it. The crowd is contained within metal gates, and intimidatingly large men in shirts marked SECURITY stand around them, arms crossed.
“Is that him?” Chloe asks, her voice high-pitched and excited as she points to the stage.
“The one in the red dress?” Don asks, squinting.
“That’s Teresa Perez, the anchor,” I say. “Drew’s the man beside her.”
“Ah,” Uncle Don says. “Okay, I see it now. Maybe I need to go to the eye doctor.”
Although we can only see their backs, I’d know those broad shoulders anywhere. Drew is standing next to his costar, and someone is fussing with their mic packs and their hair, so the interview must not have started yet. I might have time to get to him before it starts . . . if only I can get through this crowd.
I climb up on the gate and yell, “Drew!”
A forty-something woman wearing an orange windbreaker turns and gives me an apologetic look. “Oh, honey, good luck.”
“No, I know him,” I say.
As she takes in my leopard-print coat and my disheveled hair, her apologetic look turns into pity. “Of course you do, sweetie.”
“Ma’am.” A burly man approaches me and holds out a hand. “I’m going to have to ask you to step off of the gate.”
“But I need to get to Drew!” I say, getting frantic. By now, the woman in the orange windbreaker isn’t the only one watching me—pretty much everyone in the audience is. I look toward the stage again and shout, “Drew!”
“I’m here to stop women like you from getting to Drew, okay?” the man says, grabbing me by the shoulders and effortlessly placing me on the ground like I’m an annoying insect he’s swatting away.
“I have to tell him something!” I shout, and before the guard can stop me, I pull myself up on the gate again. “Drew! Drew!”
The burly man speaks into his walkie-talkie. “I’m gonna need some backup over here.”
Aside from some murmurs and a few nervous laughs, the crowd is silent as they watch this scene unfolding. Things are so quiet that it’s easy to hear when someone onstage yells, “Annie?”
The burly man has his arms wrapped around me as my feet pedal in the air when I see Drew onstage, looking toward me.
“Drew!” I shout again.
“It’s okay!” he yells to the guard as he easily leaps off the stage and over the gate into the crowd. “You can put her down. I know her.”
“I told you.” I give Orange Windbreaker a smug smile, and she rolls her eyes.
“God,” Nick says in awe. “He leapt over that gate like it was nothing.”
“He’s done a lot of training,” I say breathlessly, watching Drew make his way toward me, taking selfies with every woman in the crowd first.
“It’s very impressive,” Uncle Don says. “Did you know he used to eat ten chicken breasts every day?”