“I do,” Trish said, fumbling for her Black-Berry, which had just beeped. “She found out from the sleazy tabloids that her number-one client got engaged. Be glad that you missed that. She went absolutely ballistic.”

“I already know she despises me,” I grumbled quietly. “And that little-known fact adds a ton of stress on Ryan.”

“Don’t feel special. She hates everyone,” Trish said matter-of-factly, as her thumbs pushed a few buttons on her cell. “I’ve been with her for seven years and she still doesn’t like me.”

I flipped the tag over on a cream-colored dress. “Well, I didn’t like the way she talked to him this morning. She yelled at him like he was a child and I sort of wanted to punch her.”

“I wish you would have,” Trish said under her breath.

“Hate her that much, too?” I asked jokingly, following her around to the next rack of dresses.

Trish snickered uncomfortably. “Some days are worse than others. Unfortunately in this town, it’s hard to catch a break, no matter how skilled you are. That’s why so many actors are waiters. And PR? If you’re not with an established firm, you starve. Since I like to eat, I’ve learned to shut my mouth and do as I’m told.”

This morning’s badgering continued to plague me. “Trish, really, is it that bad that people know about our engagement?” She paused. “Welll. . . it is his personal business that’s out there now.” She moved a little closer. “Did he really stand on a table when he proposed?”

I sheepishly smirked and nodded to confirm.

Trish’s grin widened. “Can I see the ring?” she asked excitedly, requesting my hand.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous! So that’s what half a million looks like. I’m so glad he went with William Goldberg. His rings are absolutely breathtaking. I love the huge trillions on the sides.” She laughed lightly while inspecting my ring. “This was definitely, definitely worth the trouble! Flawless . . .”

I didn’t understand; my brain seized when she let it slip how much Ryan spent on my ring. I shook my head, trying to prevent the high-pitched ringing and the urge to pass out from taking over. “Um . . . ahh. What do you mean? What trouble?”

“Sneaking Ryan around to meet jewelry designers?” she said tentatively. “I spent hours coordinating that. No offense, Taryn, but I was relieved when you couldn’t make it to the Academy Awards. I was freaking out trying to arrange a meeting without you knowing about it.”

My mind traveled back to the end of February, when I was recovering after being hit by a car and missed my first opportunity to be with him at the Oscars. I glanced at my hand, grateful to her in so many ways.

“Well, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for all of your hard work. I truly appreciate it.”

Just then something else dawned on me.

“Wait . . . if you helped him get my ring then why is Marla so mad? I mean she obviously knew . . .”

Trish looked guilty. “She knew he bought a ring but Marla, being the evil bitch that she is, tried to ta—you know what? It doesn’t matter.”

I should have figured as much. “She tried to talk him out of it,” I muttered, finishing her sentence. “I’m bad for his career.” Trish looked baffled. “Why would you think that?”

I’m surprised she had to ask. After all, it was her boss that did everything except say those exact words out loud. Marla’s actions and comments certainly got that message across. “What about the fans? Are they going to turn on him like that if he’s not single anymore?”

Trish laughed quietly at my apparently silly question. “His fans are not going to turn on him unless he starts making shitty films. I can’t believe she’s telling him to avoid it with Jimmy Collins tonight, though. Bad, bad, bad . . . ,” she muttered, shaking her head.

I stared at her, questioning why she felt that way, especially since she was working so hard to impress the evil bitch.

Trish pursed her lips, then smiled at a little black dress. “What do you think of this one for your friend Marie? I think this would look fabulous on her. All of the gowns that we preselected for you are in the dressing area. You’ll have to try them on. And now that you two are officially engaged, we need to get you lined up for all your appearance dresses. First rule of fashion, always know who designed your dress. It’s the first question anyone asks.”

I barely looked at the dress she held up.

“Trish, talk to me. What should he do?”

“Nothing. Everything will go on the account and—”

“No, not about the dresses. The interview tonight. You seem to think he should handle it differently. Ryan thought she was going to tell him to admit our engagement. If it was up to you, what would you tell him?” Trish recoiled. “Taryn, I can’t tell you that!

Besides, if she ever finds out that I advised you, she’ll fire me on the spot. I can’t.” I followed her around a circular rack of dresses, searching for a new angle. I wanted to hear her opinion now more than anything.

“Okay. Well, what if I hired you to represent me—then would you advise me?” She turned and looked at me, completely shocked. “You don’t understand. I don’t have any clients—Marla does. I have a tiny shithole apartment that I can barely afford, a crappy car, and college loans I’ll still be paying on when I die an old lady.”

“Trish?” I encouraged. “I swear, no one will ever know. Our secret.”

Trish took a deep breath. “Ahh,” she groaned, glancing around the store. “If she ever finds out that I talked to you, I swear I’m coming to live with you and Ryan when I’m homeless.

“The story is already out there,” she continued, “backed up with picture evidence. All those women, those fans, are clinging to the idea of romance with him and seeing him standing on a table and then down on one knee to propose to you—well that’s romantic as all hell. He needs to remain honest.” I nodded in agreement.

“But it’s his business. It’s his choice and, welll. . . yours, whether you want to keep your private life private or not.”

“Taaaar?” I heard Marie call out my name from the dressing room.

Trish’s panic was evident. “Shit, if Marla finds out I said anything . . .”

“I won’t say anything—I swear—but I wish Ryan would get a second opinion before he goes onstage tonight. He believes everything that Marla tells him.”