by Kat T. Masen
“When you commit, Emmy, you commit for life. Remember that.”
I’m shocked but also not surprised. Alessandra and I had rarely spoken since my stay in London. She was often busy with work and to be honest, Ash didn’t seem invested in their relationship. I loved my brother but he had no idea how relationships worked let alone marriage. Not that I was one to talk, obviously—I had no idea either.
“So, um, how is Logan?”
“Busy. Training. You know they won their semi-finals? Tough game but they did it. A lot of mistakes so they need to work their asses off to win premiership this year.”
I knew they won. I had been following the game and watched it live. It was my only way of seeing Logan, and every time the camera zoomed in on him, my heart would retreat into hiding with a box of tissues and tub of ice cream playing Endless Love on repeat.
A masochistic cycle that I couldn’t break.
I stare out the window, quiet and ignoring the pang that constantly reminded me how much I missed him. There was such a negative reaction to us being together. Wesley’s followers did not hold back their opinions. Slut, whore, you name it—I was called it. Logan’s hoard of passionate women did the same. I stepped away from all my social media accounts because despite my tough exterior at times, I was a crumbling mess inside.
We drive into the driveway while I hold back my tears when the house is in full view.
There is no usual welcome from Mom, no jump outside and knock me down till I’m almost on the ground, full of excitement and smiles.
Nothing but an empty greeting which is exactly what I deserved.
We walk inside to find the house strangely quiet. Dad places my bags down and opens the carrier.
“What do you want me to do with George?”
Dad has taken to George, bending down and squashing his face with a baby voice. This man seriously needed grandchildren or something else to keep him busy besides our fucked-up love lives.
“Whatever you want but best don’t show him your closet. He has a fetish for male shoes.”
Dad pats his thigh, calling George to follow him outside. George seems relieved; a long flight with another puppy on board was too stressful for him. The bitch had the audacity to tease him the entire flight with her Louis Vuitton carrier and Gucci collar.
Sucking in the air with a pile of guilt nesting in my stomach, I walk to Mom’s office to find the door shut. I knock gently, with no response, then open the door with caution. She doesn’t look up to see me, her concentration focused on the screen. Although it’s daylight, her blinds are drawn down with a small lamp directed on her desk.
“Mom,” I whisper, like a lost little girl.
She doesn’t say a word, eyes still glued to the screen.
“Please say something.” The tears fall down one by one, the salty liquid against my dry lips. “I can lose everything I have but I can’t lose you.”
She bows her head, placing her glasses down on the desk. “You’ll never lose me, kid.”
“I have lost you,” I sob. “I got caught up in it all . . . the whole . . .”
“Romance.”
“Romance . . .” I repeat quietly. “I’m not sure it was all romance.”
“Bad romance. The best kind.” She finally smiles, motioning for me to sit on her lap like I had always done as a kid.
I position myself on her lap and rest my head on top of hers, hugging her real tight. Her familiar scent is home, comforting me at this very moment. It’s exactly what I needed and with that feeling, I allow myself to cry in her embrace.
“As a romance writer, what’s your take on this?” I ask as the tears subside, enough to talk. “Tell me what your characters would do right now.”
She thinks for a moment, resting her head against my chest. “Well, they always need that time apart to re-evaluate what’s important and what they’re willing to give up.”
“Go on.”
“Then they meet. Somewhere unexpected, but of meaning. A place close to their hearts. It makes the moment even more romantic.”
“Like at Tiffany’s?” I joke softly, smiling through my dried-up tears.
“Or, like the field on Benson’s Corner.”
It takes a moment for the penny to drop. Benson’s Corner is the biggest field in Green Meadows. Ash and Logan would play there every day, sometimes twice a day, for as long as I could remember. I remembered telling Dad one day to build me a cubby house on the big oak tree because we practically lived there.
“That’s Ash and Logan’s field.”
She nods.
“What are you trying to say, Mom?”
“I’m trying to tell you that I’m sure you’ll find an equally devastated man on that field kicking the ball around aimlessly.”
I shuffle on her lap, anxious yet eager. “Logan’s here?”
Mom’s face remains placid, nodding again to assure me she’s not lying.
“How . . . um . . . is . . . he?”
“A mess,” she states truthfully. “You did a number on him, kid.”
I’m about to defend myself until Mom interrupts. “I meant.” She points to my heart. “In here.”
“Mom, I don’t know how to fix us. We’ve kinda always been a broken unit. It’s just so hard.”
“The two of you never saw eye to eye. You were constantly fighting for Ash’s attention. Both headstrong and extremely competitive.”
“And that’s what got me into this mess to begin with. I signed up for the show because they were doing great things. I wanted to be better and look at the mess I created for myself.”
“And look at where it brought you . . . here.”
“I’m sorry Mom. I hurt you and lied and just wasn’t thinking about anyone else but that moment.”
“I get it, kid. You had that moment. We’ve all had it.” She pauses, then drives her mouse around the screen. “I want to show you something.”
I scoot off her lap to allow her to navigate on the screen without too much trouble. She clicks out of the word document she’s in, then opens another. There’s a title on the screen that says Bad Romance.
“What’s this?” I ask, unsure of what she’s trying to show me.
“My next book. You see, for a while now, I had this story in my head but it wasn’t right. Something just wasn’t flowing. Then, I started to witness something. Something I had never witnessed before. A bad romance. One that I knew would end up with broken hearts.”
I still didn’t quite get what she is saying; my exhausted mind barely functioning.
“I knew long before it broke out that you and Logan were in this bad romance. I watched, I observed, and it became my story.” She smiles, touching my hand. “Don’t worry, names and places have been changed. But I wrote this, for you. I wanted you to look back at this one day and remember a time in your life when loved consumed you. When nothing else mattered besides this one man.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll read it?”
“Of course I’ll read it but how did you know?”
“How?” She raises her brow with a grin. “Because you’re my children. I know everything. Remember when you were seventeen and told me you went to the shop to buy Mrs. Cambridge a going-away present because it was her last day working in the library? I knew you went to the drugstore and bought rubbers for Ashley.”
“Mother!” I raise my voice in amusement.
“I was just grateful your brother was being safe. Plus, I was glad he ran to you for advice on girls and not me.”
We both laugh, letting out a sigh as we finish.
“Thank you, Mom. For putting up with me. For writing this so I could see it from the eyes of the world rather than my own.”
“I love you, kid. No one can ever change that.”
“Ditto.” I smile.
It’s late; the darkness settling in with no lights surrounding us but the few street lamps and the moonlight. It’s eerily quiet, not even the sounds of the summer cri
ckets pounding my eardrums. There’s only one sound dominating the space around us, the constant echo of a bouncing ball.
Logan’s standing in the middle of the field, dressed in a pair of white training shorts and black tee, dribbling the ball with his feet. I watch on the sidelines for a while, admiring the way he concentrates on his footwork. His face scrunches up when he’s concentrating, blinking repeatedly until he aims the ball which lands straight in the net.
My footsteps feel like lead weights; heavy and dragging across the grass. I’m terrified he will tell me to leave him alone, exactly what I had done to him in my apartment.
“You’re here.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“You’re here.”
“Well, it’s my home.”
“It is your home,” he answers coldly.
“It’s your home too. Always has been.”
He won’t make eye contact with me, staring at the goal with a hard look on his face. I want to tell him I miss him. That I love him and somehow need us to work out. But I’m terrified that he will break me; a revenge attack for how I broke him by telling him to leave me the fuck alone and never talk to me again.
“I was wrong,” I admit. “We were both wrong.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“Honestly Logan, you don’t make it easy to forgive you!” The anger comes out of nowhere, perhaps from the fear and the unknown. I hated that I wanted him so much.
“Why?” He turns around and faces me, eyes blazing and full of pain. “Because I fucking love you and you couldn’t see that. You were happy to continue tormenting me with your fictional relationship.”
“But I told you—”
“Yeah . . . yeah . . . heard it a million times over. You’re contractually obliged to star in the show. I guess I am the fool in thinking the smallest part of you felt the same.”
“You don’t think I feel the same? You don’t think I love you?” I grab my cell and dial the number of the head of the network—Jeffrey Marsh. It goes straight to his secretary so I place her on speaker phone.
“Mr. Marsh is no longer with the company.”
“Huh?”
“He was exited today.”
“Well then tell me who I need to speak to regarding my contract?”
“I’m not sure, Miss Chase.”
I hang up and call Cliff.
“Cliff, I’m done with the show. I don’t care what it costs me to get out of it, I’m willing to pay whatever even if that means every last dollar I have.”
“Are you out of your mind, Chase?” he yells into the receiver.
“I’ve never been more sane.”
I hang up the call, and would deal with the ramifications later.
“No more excuses. That’s it. Now what?”
“God, Emmy. It’s more than that.”
“Then what is it?” I drag in frustration, throwing my hands in the air.
“There is no turning back with us. We’re either all in now or nothing. We can’t ever go back to the way we were . . . friends or whatever you call it.”
“I know that,” I tell him. “You’re part of my family. You always have been. And now I know why. This was in the cards all along, we just needed to play the game in order to realize what we’d be willing to give up. We both lost, but we both can win.”
This is it. All or nothing. My heart is pounding so hard, ready to combust from the pressure of waiting for him to decide. If he tells me he’s not in, I don’t know what’ll I do. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want him right now and that frightens me.
His head is bowed, eyes closed with his mouth tight. I watch him anxiously, the way his hands slowly open and unleash the tight fists he had been holding. The base of his jaw lifts until his eyes mirror mine, the desperation matching my own. He moves his body in front of me, raising his hand to touch my cheek and the second it does, the spark between us stills our anxious hearts.
“I meant what I said,” he murmurs with the air escaping his lips. “No turning back. All or nothing. Marriage, babies . . . that whole growing-old-together thing.”
He gets down on one knee, and runs his fingertip from my stomach, down my thigh until it stops at the scar on my knee.
“Wait,” I whisper, unsure as my heart accelerates from his actions. “Is this a proposal?”
He shakes his head with a beautiful smile. “No. Trust me, if I propose marriage, there’ll be fucking fireworks and you’ll be crying like a baby.”
“I don’t cry like a baby,” I tell him with a pout, easing the nerves.
“When I pushed you off the zip line that day, I wanted you to soar. You always amazed me with your fearless attitude. So when I saw you scared for the first time, I was sad. It wasn’t you and I would be damned to see you become that person. That’s who you are, you take risks and sometimes they pay off and sometimes they don’t.”
I fall to my knees, eye level with him, wrapping my arms around his neck, desperate to close the gap between us. “You scarred me since that day. A piece of you always on me. I should have known.”
“Neither one of us knew, but it doesn’t matter, we know now.”
“We know now,” I beam with happiness. “So now what?”
“We show the whole world what we’re about.”
His grin is infectious, spreading all over me like a warm security blanket. How could this man be so beautiful? And mine . . . finally.
“And how do we do that?” I tease him with a smile.
He grabs his cell out of his pocket and holds it up in the air, positioning it before he plants the softest kiss on my lips. I don’t break free, not even when the camera clicks. When the cold air touches my face and he has pulled away, a smirk plays on his devious lips.
The cell is turned around so I can see the photo he took and in the space of seconds, uploaded. It’s us. Me and him. Logan Carrington and Emerson Chase, with the caption beneath the photo saying #Love.
We head back to the house holding hands, laughing about the time Ash got stomach cramps from drinking a can of beer he stole from Dad’s mancave fridge when he was twelve, and ran home with a shit stain on the back of his jeans.
Mom and Dad are sitting in the living room, curled up by the fireplace reading books. The two of them were polar opposites; Mom reading a romance novel titled Bastard and Dad reading about the greatest sporting heroes of all time. They still managed to bond over their love for reading, snuggled into each other’s side on the big cream sofa with pillows surrounding them.
Tayla is laying on her stomach, across the shaggy brown rug, no surprise, on her cell with headphones on. She’s grinning at the screen, typing quickly then taking a selfie with George. I swear that dog is a traitor.
Logan places his arm around me as we sit on the sofa adjacent to my parents. Part of me wanted to giggle, like a teenager bringing her boyfriend home for the first time despite him practically living here. I knock into his ribs on purpose, goading some sort of reaction from him. He kisses the top of my head as I curl into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“Family meeting,” Dad commands, placing his book down.
“It’s weird without Ash,” I say.
Tayla removes her headphones, and rings Ash, placing him on video call. “Now we’re all here.”
“Hey.” I wave over the phone cautiously, reminding myself that we hadn’t spoken in weeks.
“Is that your new boyfriend?” he questions, deadpan. “Looks like a dick.”
Logan laughs as Mom interrupts. “Ashley Christopher Chase—behave.”
“We all know the truth now. Have you talked about how it will work? Emmy is in LA and Logan is contracted to England,” Tayla asks, keeping her tone neutral to avoid interrogating us.
“Actually, I’ve requested to pull out of the show. Dad was right. I do enjoy business and my heart isn’t in acting anymore. I’m sure another opportunity will present itself.”
“About Logan . . .” Dad announces. �
��I have news for you and Ash but I wanted to wait until we were all together.”
We all wait on edge, Dad taking longer than usual to reveal the news.
“The US team has picked both of you up on one condition . . .” he trails off to clear his throat. “You have to win this premiership. Royal Kings will negotiate your contract on those terms.”
Logan’s face beams with enthusiasm. “Are you kidding me? Because that’s great! A chance to represent our country in the World Cup trials. Shit, Ash did you hear that?”
“Uh, yeah.” He seems less enthused, distracted by someone beside him.
“Bro, c’mon. We’ve been waiting on this for like forever.”
“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I just kinda like England. Emmy, don’t be mad, please.”
I exhale a laugh. “What would I be mad about?”
He whispers to someone beside him and then suddenly, Poppy’s face is on the screen, smiling wide with a persistent wave.
“Uh, why are you with Poppy?”
Logan’s mouth is wide with a smirk. I turn to him for an answer and he continues to watch me like I’m short a fuse. “I don’t get it.”
“I think your brother and Poppy are an item,” Mom says with a playful smile.
“But . . . but . . .” My words don’t come out. “When? How? This is insane. . . .”
“Back when you guys visited London. Over drinks and terrible dad jokes. Insane, yes . . . but fuck—I love this woman.” He kisses her cheek and it’s hard to ignore how happy he looks. I don’t actually think I had ever seen him this happy. It’s frightening yet I’m overcome with joy at the same time. “You always said we didn’t have the ESP thing going on. Twenty-six years later, it finally kicked in.”
“Oh yeah,” I challenge. “What am I thinking now?”
“You’re in love with the goof beside you and want this phone call to end so you can get laid because it’s been two weeks.”
I gasp, eyes wide in shock. “ASHLEY!”
Everyone laughs, even Mom and Dad despite the awkwardness of me getting laid. When the laughter dwindles, I relax enough to respond back to him.
“You’re right. I do love the goof beside me.” I nudge Logan with my elbow again. “And that’s all I’ll say.”
