The Best Wrong Move (Off-Limits #1)

Prologue

The Good Day Show

February 14

Why aren’t we going to commercial?

I tilt my head, scanning each face behind the frozen teleprompter.

The spotlights.

The cameras.

Everyone looks as shocked as I feel.

Rex just said no.

His words are all I can focus on.

I won’t marry you, Liv.

The light is blinking green. We’re still on air.

Someone please tell me what to do.

Anyone?

“Olivia, honey?” My producer’s voice cuts through the sound of my heartbeat, directly into my ear. I press a finger to my earpiece and swallow hard. “Go ahead and smile, Liv, we’ve got twelve seconds to commercial.”

Rex fucking said no.

I twist my face into what feels like a smile. I think it’s a smile. Oh God, please let it be a smile.

Rex is staring at me, shifting his weight back and forth. He runs a hand through his hair. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down each time he swallows.

Pop the question during our Valentine’s segment , my producer had said. Invite him to watch the show at the station. We’ll bring him up on stage as a surprise.

“Thanks for inviting me to watch today, babe,” Rex had said back in the green room. Before I went live.

Then he’d kissed me.

He’d kissed me, and, seven minutes later, while standing on the stage together in front of millions of people . . .

He said no.

I twist my face harder. Forcing a smile that just won’t come.

“Olivia? No, not like that,” my producer is saying in my ear. “Maybe turn your face away from the camera? Can you say something? Make a joke?” She forgets to cut her feed to me before adding, “Someone make sure those confetti cannons don’t—”

A huge explosion of crimson and gold confetti comes barreling down from above.

“Who the fuck’s in charge of that!” she screams into my ear.

My face quivers. Frozen into whatever crazed expression is taking up the screen right now.

Rex looks pale between the remnants of confetti shimmering around him. Sweat forming at the edge of his hairline. His eyes widen at me, like I’m supposed to know what to do.

My mouth opens to make a joke, but I can’t think. A stunted whimper escapes my throat instead.

“Seven seconds!” my producer yells into my ear. “Olivia, say something. Anything. Figure out how to smile.”

I turn to camera four. The one closest to me. Green light blinking.

“Olivia, stop doing that with your face!” My producer’s voice is high-pitched, bordering on panic.

I curl my lips back and feel my brows nearly touch over my eyes, trying to fix it.

“No, not like that! Just smile normally, goddammit!”

I yank my earpiece out. Unable to think.

My voice cuts through the thick silence on stage.

“You heard it here first,” I say brightly, picking up some confetti that landed on the counter in front of me. Then I toss them into the air toward Rex. One lands on his eyebrow. “If you’re single this Valentine’s Day, take a good look at this face.” I turn to Rex, who looks like he’s having an out-of-body experience. “This guy is officially up for grabs now, ladies! Single as a fucking pringle.”

The green light cuts to red.

And I’m free.