A producer guided him to the chair beside Guillaume’s and quickly clipped a little microphone on his collar before scurrying away.
“Hi, big brother,” Guillaume said. Gabe just glared at him. “Gabe, I’m so sorry. I really am.”
I held my breath as the cameras zoomed in on Gabe’s face. Overhead on the monitors, I could see his jaw set. His eyes darted nervously around. I knew he didn’t like being the center of attention, and he was obviously uncomfortable on the stage.
“It’s fine,” Gabe muttered.
“No, Gabe, it’s not,” Guillaume said. The cameras zoomed in on his face, and he looked genuinely upset, although I wouldn’t have put it past him to have practiced his remorseful face in the mirror for hours before his TV appearance. “Emma’s a great girl. And I screwed it up for you, before you even had a chance to make a move on her.”
“Yeah, thanks for telling the world that I didn’t make a move,” Gabe said, rolling his eyes.
The audience laughed a bit, and Gabe’s face reddened. I felt terrible for him. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was largely my fault.
Guillaume grinned devilishly. “Speaking of that, Gabe, you have to learn to stop being so shy and actually ask out the women you like.”
The studio audience laughed again, and Gabe blushed as deeply as I suspected I was currently doing myself. I felt suddenly short of breath.
Gabe grimaced. “You’re not helping your case here, Guillaume.” He looked down at his lap, a grimace playing across his features.
Guillaume shrugged. “Look, I just wanted to apologize to you. You won’t take my calls, so this was my last resort. Listen, no matter how it looked, nothing happened between me and Emma. She was actually in my room talking about you when I leaned over and kissed her. It was my fault, not hers.”
Gabe looked up at him, and for the first time, there was something in his expression that wasn’t embarrassment or anger.
Guillaume continued. “And, Emma, wherever you are—” He looked directly into the camera. I sat up in my seat and stared at the monitor above me. “I owe you an apology, too. Now, listen to me. I want you to give my brother here a chance, okay? And once you two have worked things out, I need you to come back and be my publicist again. I’ll fix everything with KMG. I can’t seem to stop getting myself into trouble. I need you.”
The audience laughed again, and I sat stunned, frozen to my seat.
Katie, an eyebrow arched, interjected, “Okay, Gabe. Is there anything you want to say to this Emma?”
Gabe turned even redder and shook his head. The audience groaned, and Guillaume looked delighted at his brother’s discomfort.
“Come on, big brother, you’re on national television in America,” Guillaume urged. “It’s the perfect opportunity to finally make that move on the girl, for once in your life.”
I felt mortified for poor Gabe. But at the same time, I hoped he’d say something. After all, I had no idea how he felt. Would he forgive me? Or was he just as angry at me as he had been?
“Okay,” Gabe said, taking a deep breath. I leaned forward in my seat, my heart pounding. “I’d just like to tell her . . .” His voice trailed off, and he paused for a moment. Then he looked straight into the camera, and above me on the monitor, it looked like he was talking directly to me. “I’d like to tell her that I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to listen and realize that this was just Guillaume being a jerk again.” He paused and looked at his lap. When he looked up again, his cheeks were a little flushed. “And also, I think I might be in love with her.”
There was a collective “Awwwww!” from the audience. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He loved me?
“Hey now, watch it, big brother!” Guillaume said with a grin.
“All right, guys, you can kiss and make up over the break,” Katie said with a grin. She turned to the camera and added, “Stay right here to see Guillaume perform ‘Beautiful Girl,’ the second single off his album, when we come back.”
The Katie Jones house band played a few chords, and the house lights came back up. I watched, rooted to my seat, as Gabe unhooked his mic, said something to Guillaume, and strode offstage.
“Emma?” said a voice above me. I looked up slowly to see Poppy there, smiling down at me. “Gabe is backstage. Come on.”
I stared up at her.
“You . . . you knew about this?”
Poppy nodded and grinned.
“Guillaume has been planning it for the last week,” she said. “He really does feel bad. He even made sure that the UPP took Gabe off the obit desk for the week to fly him over for an exclusive on his trip to America! But it went even better than I thought! Did you hear Gabe? He said he loves you!”
I felt like I was in a fog as I got silently to my feet and followed her. The Texan next to me shifted, looked up at me, and muttered to his wife, “Where does she think she’s goin’?”
It wasn’t until Poppy had shown her pass and we had slipped through a backstage door that I finally found my voice again.
“Poppy,” I said, still feeling very confused. “Does Gabe know I’m here?”