her new home, but Zeus had been clingy since they’d gotten home. Understandable. Anyone who said cats didn’t feel affection for their owners had never had a sweet little cat like Zeus.
She glanced at Jas. He should have been the most tired, having stayed up late to drive them down, but no one would have known it after his quick shower and change of clothes. His shirt collar was crisp, his eyes alert but unreadable. He leaned against the wall next to the door, his sharp gaze on the television. The energy in the room was expectant and tense.
“Does anyone want any breakfast? Coffee?” Katrina asked. It was early still, barely eight.
Rhiannon yawned. “Nah. You said she’ll be on soon, right?”
“Yes.” This had been the only time slot Good Morning Live had been willing to give, but it was a good one. Late enough to catch the parents whose kids had headed off to school, early enough so people might see it before they left for work. Media spurred media, too, so she was sure clips of this would shortly be aired by other outlets and on social media.
She drummed her fingers on her knee until Zeus batted at them. She was nervous about this part of her plan, more so than the errand she had to run after this.
One thing at a time.
Jia stirred. “I think this was a smart move. I’m sure whatever statement you gave to Mona was wonderful and from the heart.”
Jia’s confidence soothed Katrina’s doubts and second-guessing. “I hope so.”
“Smart, picking Mona to read your statement,” Rhiannon remarked. “She’s far removed from you, and clearly trustworthy, or she would have given you up long ago.”
Katrina nodded, feeling a rush of affection for the older café owner. It was true—Mona could have revealed a lot about Katrina, and she’d kept mum. So had the other owners of the mom-and-pops Katrina frequented in the area. She had multiple little teams in her corner.
Jia straightened. “Unmute. It’s on.”
Knots in her belly, Katrina hit the mute button and reached into her pocket to clutch her rock tightly. With her other hand, she continued smoothing Zeus’s fur. Double the coping behaviors.
The perky newscaster, the same one who had interviewed Becca, came on the screen. “We have a new development in the CafeBae story we brought you earlier in the week. For those who don’t know, this was the meet-cute heard around the world.” He paused. “Or was it? A growing backlash has started on social media against the original poster of this possible rom-com in the making, with some saying that this was a gross invasion of privacy.”
It was a bit rich for users on the same platforms that had helped invade her privacy to now wonder over whether that should be okay, but such was life.
“Please welcome Mona Rodriguez, the owner of French Coast, the café where CafeBae started.”
The split screen showed Mona, standing behind her counter, beaming. Katrina had told her to make sure she wore branded gear. If nothing else, the woman should get free advertising out of this. Mona had informed her traffic had already gone up significantly in the last week. “Hello.” Mona waved at the camera, and then cleared her throat. “I have a prepared statement from the young woman in this clusterf—ah, the woman who was unfairly targeted during this phenomenon.”
“Please, go ahead.” The host gestured to her, and the screen expanded so it was only Mona.
Mona squinted at the phone in front of her. Katrina had written the statement quickly, had thought it best to speak from the heart, but now her stomach churned. Had she said enough? Or too much?
“Last week, I went to a café. Because it was crowded, I agreed to share a table with a young man. I did not know him. I have not seen him since then.
“I had no idea that while I politely chatted with the man, someone was taking my picture, eavesdropping, and fictionalizing our entire interaction. I did not consent to any part of that.
“I believe real-life fairy tales exist, but this is not one of them. This was not a movie. This was not a meet-cute. These were lies, and a gross trampling of my privacy. Strangers have spent days speculating about who I am, so I’ll tell you: I am you. A real, regular person trying to live their life. I do my best. I hope you do, too.
“Everyone’s face and bodies ought to belong to themselves. I humbly beg you: