by Lisa Suzanne
“Ahem.” My father’s loud throat-clearing interrupts our kiss. We both jump apart guiltily because yes even though I’m an adult, I still feel weird making out with a guy in front of my parents.
Even if he’s technically my husband.
“Adam, good to see you again,” my dad says.
Adam stands and shakes my dad’s hand. “Same to you, Mr. Clarke.”
“Seems to me we should’ve had a conversation before you married my little buttercup,” my dad says.
Adam nods. “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Clarke. And I do apologize. In fact, I need to tell you both something about that night.”
I stand because I can’t believe he’s really about to tell them the truth.
I want to be honest with my parents, of course, and I trust they won’t tell anyone about this twist of events...but in the thirty seconds I’ve had to think about all this, I can see their reaction to his confession already. They’ll never trust him knowing that together we got blackout drunk and made a poor decision. They’ll never see him as anything more than the douchebag rock star who’s corrupting their only daughter.
And I have the sudden primal need to protect him from that.
I want them to see him for the amazing guy he is that very well might be a huge part of my future, not as someone who might hurt me. And I already know they’ll only see the negative side in all this, not the potential for a happy ending.
And so, as Adam opens his mouth to make his big confession, something comes over me. “It was my idea to get married,” I blurt before he can get a word out.
A little squeak comes from him, and I almost giggle at the look of shock on his face.
“It was your idea?” my dad booms.
I shrug. “You two know I’ve had a crush on Adam since before high school. I’d just broken up with Chad after he cheated on me, and Adam and I got to talking, and...” I glance over at him, nodding with wide eyes that it’s okay to carry on the ruse. I hold my breath as I wait for him to say something.
“And I confessed that I’d been in love with her that whole time, too,” he finishes.
I let out a sigh of relief. “It was impulsive, sure, but it’s also something really special. And before you go crazy about not being there for your daughter’s big day, we’re having a big day in February, and you’ll be there. Dad, I want you to walk me down the aisle. Mom, I want you to go to my dress fitting with me.” I glance at Adam, who looks some combination of shell-shocked and agreeable as he nods.
“Whatever it takes, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke.”
My dad rolls his eyes. “Look, kid. I always envisioned my daughter’s future husband coming to me and asking for my approval before marrying her. Her mother always envisioned planning a big wedding with her daughter.”
“Dad, that’s not what we wanted,” I say, but he ignores me.
“You took those things from us without thinking twice, and that tells me a lot about who you are as a person,” he says, pointing his finger at Adam, and that’s the moment I know my plan to keep up the lie won’t really matter. They’ve already judged him, and I’m not sure what Adam can do to win their approval.
And I’m not even sure he really needs to. If my parents aren’t on board with the guy I’m with, then staying married to him probably isn’t the best idea.
The expiration date on this relationship presses on me more and more.
But that primal need to protect him forces my backbone straight again. “He didn’t take anything from you. It was a mutual decision. It’s what we both wanted, and if you give him a chance rather than pointing fingers and placing blame, maybe you’ll start to see what I see. Mom, you’ll see his creative side and how much he cares about me. Dad, you’ll see his reliable side and how he’ll do everything he can to make me happy. He bought me a freaking house on Mission Beach, you guys. He flew back early from his family Christmas to see me.” I glance over at him, and as our eyes meet, I realize how everything I’m saying is true. I don’t need to lie about this stuff, but I do need to stand up to my parents.
I know I’m their baby and always will be, but I can’t keep living in the shadow of being their only daughter and their little girl. “I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions, and if you don’t like the decisions I make, blame me. No one else. Don’t judge him before you get to know him.”
The room falls silent for a few cringeworthy, awkward beats.
And then the most magical thing happens. Adam turns toward me and presses his lips to my temple as he tosses an arm around my shoulder and draws me in closer to him. My mom sniffles and brushes a tear from her cheek. My dad’s eyes soften and he blows out a breath.
“You’re right,” my dad says.
“I am?” I ask, a little shocked, and Adam chuckles beside me.
My mom and dad exchange a look, and then my mom says, “We judged him without knowing him. I don’t know what made you two run off to Vegas to get married, and I’ll always be upset that I didn’t get to be part of your special day, but that’s more on me than it is on you. I set these outrageous expectations the day you were born, and it’s your life. You deserve to make whatever choices you want. Just try to think of the people around you who want to share in those special moments next time, okay?”
I nod, my eyes filling with tears. She’s right. She deserved to be there, and a sober me never would’ve done what we did.
But even so, after all that’s happened, I still can’t really say I regret it.
You know when you have those pesky childhood dreams and they never pan out to be as wonderful as you think they will?
Take prom, for instance.
I had these visions of a magical night, dancing away with Vincent Flannery and kissing and holding one another. Instead, I sat on a bathroom floor with my arm around Amber, who broke up with her boyfriend at the dance and was a drunken, slobbery, blubbering mess.
Well I had visions and dreams about Adam Wilson, and he just cut short his trip to Michigan to tell me he wants to be with me...that he believes we’re meant to be together. He was ready to admit the truth to my parents because he thought it was what I wanted.
He told me that he’s fallen in love with me.
And if that’s not some magical dream come to life, I don’t know what is.
My heart’s on board. In fact, I’m pretty sure my heart is all in.
Now I just need to get my brain to join the party...but that may take a little more convincing.
CHAPTER 33: EMILY
I haven’t given him an answer yet.
We talked to my parents for a bit, and then he asked me if I wanted to take a drive over to our new house. He told me he arranged for the pod filled with my belongings to meet us there, and I guess it’s officially move-in day...though the pod filled with a few items of hand-me-down furniture and my wardrobe isn’t really enough to fill the sprawling beach house we’re moving into.
And somehow, in all of that, I haven’t addressed the elephant in the room.
He told me he’s in love with me, told me he sees a future with me...and I haven’t said anything back.
I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say. Of course I love him, but I still can’t quite get over that fear of failure and rejection...of that fear of the risk we’re taking. Of what happens next if it doesn’t work out.
He’s trying to prove to me that none of that matters, but my overly cautious side keeps winning my mind’s argument.
“I have a surprise for you,” he says on the drive over, as if today hasn’t been filled with surprises already.
When we pull onto our new street, I see the pod with my stuff. I also see two other large semi-trucks, and my curiosity is definitely piqued as I try to figure out what his surprise might be. He pulls into the garage and we enter our new home. My chest is buzzing with nerves and my stomach is doing somersaults and I don’t even know why.
Maybe just being close to Adam.
After our talk with my pare
nts this morning, he told me he wanted to take me to our new house. We couldn’t move in last week with the haste for Christmas and Adam going out of town even though we closed on it and got our keys, but now that the holiday is over, we’ve got a little time. MFB resumes their tour four days after the New Year, so we’ll be hitting the road...which gives me about a week to turn our house into our home.
For the next six months, anyway.
When we’re not on the road.
I have a lot of work to do.
But as soon as I turn the corner from the entry into the living room, I can see that my workload is much lighter than I first thought it might be.
“Darling girl, I’m Anna Biltmore, your design expert,” a professional woman in tall heels and a silver dress greets me. She takes my hand in her icy cold ones. She nods toward three couches currently in my living room. “Come sit and let’s turn these cold white walls into the home of your dreams.”
I glance over at Adam. “Merry Christmas,” he mouths to me, and my heart melts.
Anna came prepared with color charts and books and fabrics and furniture and, maybe most importantly, ideas.
“Sit on the sofa you like best,” she instructs, and I choose a white one because while white might not be practical in a beach house, it’s so pure and pretty against the backdrop of the sand and the water.
She nods like I made a good choice, and then we get to work.
Three hours later, every room in the house has at least one anchor piece of furniture in it with a complete design framework and multiple items on order to complete the vision Anna helped me come up with. The semi-trucks take away the furniture options I turned down, and Adam was beside me the entire time. He always deferred to me, but it seemed like we agreed on most of the big decisions...like our bed, for example, which must have the world’s most comfortable mattress in the history of beds.
The cameras were there capturing every moment. Our mic packs were turned back on.
But it didn’t feel like we were acting.
And that’s a huge breakthrough for me.
But Anna’s gone now, and it’s just the two of us...plus the cameras that were installed in our home over the last few days and, of course, our mics so the producers can pick up our every word.
We stand by the windows, looking out at our view, and I can’t help but wonder how many more times we’ll do this very thing. Is there a limit? Or am I the one forcing the expiration when I don’t need to be?
“Thank you,” I say. I wave my hands around. “This was...it was too much.”
Adam smiles at me and shakes his head. “Haven’t you figured out yet that nothing is too much for you?”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
He takes a step toward me then pulls me in his arms. “I mean it.” He drops a kiss to my forehead. “Now should we give that new bed a workout?”
I giggle. I’m not exactly sure if he’s teasing me for the cameras or if he’s serious. He saves me from having to figure it out, though.
“I’m free as a bird the next two nights since I was supposed to be in Michigan. Is there anything you want to do?”
I shake my head and turn my gaze back to the window. “Just enjoy the view,” I say.
“Me too.”
I glance over at him, and his eyes are on me. I feel the heat creep into my cheeks at the compliment of his gaze on me rather than on the beach outside.
“I’ve got a couple other things planned,” he says softly, and I wonder how much of what he’s doing is for me and how much of it’s for the cameras.
And something clicks for me at the thought.
I don’t know if Adam and I can give this a real shot until the cameras are off. I just think I’ll always believe he’s doing it for the show rather than for me. I’ll always wonder if it’s for ratings. For his fans.
“What else do you have planned?” I ask, and he just smiles.
“Follow me.”
I do, and we end up on the balcony upstairs. Dinner has been served on the table up there, and we each take a seat in front of a plate, which happen to be set side by side so we can sit beside each other and both have a view.
“You’re full of surprises today,” I say, and he chuckles.
He taps his wineglass to mine. “We didn’t really get to have our own Christmas celebration together, so today has sort of been my gift to you. Merry Christmas.”
I pick up my glass and clink it to his. “Merry Christmas. And thank you. I didn’t get you anything.”
He laughs.
“Actually, that’s not totally true. I did get you something but it’s not a big deal and I don’t want you to get too excited.”
He raises both brows in surprise. “You got me something?”
“Of course. It’s our first Christmas as husband and wife. I wasn’t about to let that pass without commemorating it.”
That sits between us for a few beats, and I can’t help but think how this isn’t exactly how I imagined my first Christmas as a wife. I pictured kisses under the mistletoe and slow dances in front of the tree and making love near the fireplace, but I never thought there’d be cameras capturing our every move and microphones wired to us to listen in on all our conversations.
I may have dreamed the man sitting next to me was my husband, and in some far-fetched fantasy I might’ve come up with living on Mission Beach, but it was never supposed to be fake. It was never under these circumstances.
“I got you something else, too. Want to exchange gifts after dinner?”
I nod. The thing I got him is small and inexpensive, but it’s meaningful. When he opens the box, he smiles at the framed photograph of our wedding day. The cheesy frame is in the shape of the famous Welcome to Las Vegas sign and the top of it reads Mr. & Mrs. instead of Welcome.
And apparently the thing he got me is meaningful, too. At least it will appear to be for the audience who will be watching me tear the paper from the small box.
Once I get the paper off, he takes the little black box from my hands, gets down on his knee, and starts talking before I get to see what’s inside.
“Emily, when we got married, it was a spontaneous decision made in the heat of the moment, but it was the right decision for us. Every day that has passed since December tenth has only proven that to me.” My heart starts pounding in my chest as he says the words. “Every day my love for you grows. Every day the feelings I have for you intensify. Every day you become more beautiful to me. And I want to spend every day loving you, holding you, and trying my best to be deserving of you. That’s why I felt like you should have more than just the simple bands we exchanged that were part of the chapel’s package.”
By the time he finishes his speech, I have tears in my eyes...because I want the words to be true. I want him to love me, to find me beautiful, to feel like what we did was the right thing.
I want the French-set halo band with a round diamond...the dream ring that signifies forever to me.
But when he flips open the box and reveals the princess cut diamond, reality sets in.
The ring he got me is gorgeous, and it’s the one I told him I wanted. It’s lovely.
But he did this out on the balcony with our mic packs firmly switched to the on position.
I’m terrified it was just another speech for the cameras.
CHAPTER 34: ADAM
I feel like I lost her sometime after I gave her the ring. I thought she’d be happy since it was the one she steered me toward in the ring shop, but I knew I should’ve trusted my gut.
She didn’t really want the princess cut. She wanted the round cut.
But something made her direct me to the princess, and I have a feeling I know what it is.
The way her eyes misted over dreamily when she looked at the round cut told me that was her dream ring. And she doesn’t want her dream ring from someone she isn’t totally sure about...and that’s exactly what this is.
She isn’t sure about me. She doesn’t bel
ieve my words that I want to give this a real try.
And I have no idea how to get through to her, how to follow my grandma’s advice and show her that she’s safe with me, that she’s the only one for me, that I mean what I say when I say these things to her.
And it’s with that thought in mind that I blurt out, “Go out on a date with me.”
We’re lying in the bed we’re sort of being forced to share since the cameras are on in the other rooms of the house, but our mic packs are off. It’s just the two of us, and we’re both scrolling our phones before we go to bed.
“What?” she asks, setting her phone on the nightstand beside her after clicking the screen off.
I do the same to mine, and we’re blanketed in darkness.
“Go out on a date with me,” I repeat. “No cameras. No microphones. Just you and me. One on one. I need you to hear what I’m saying when there are no cameras around.”
“And what are you saying?” she asks softly.
“That I’m falling for you.” It seems easier to say it in the dark than when she’s staring at me with those big, disbelieving brown eyes. “You don’t seem to believe me, and I want to show you instead.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. But when? I’ll need to schedule myself into your calendar.”
I chuckle. I haven’t given her many responsibilities as my personal assistant yet, but we’ve been apart because of the holiday. All that will change when the tour resumes, though. I’ll need her help with where I’m supposed to be and when, particularly since Kylie has all of MFB scheduled together for some promos and apart for others. “Tomorrow night. Wear something casual because there may be walking involved.” I don’t mention that I want her to be casual because dressy isn’t really my lifestyle. I’m laid back, and I want our date to be, too.
I can just picture her raising her brows in my mind, and she’s sexy as excitement plays in her eyes.
“I can’t wait, Mr. Wilson.”
“Neither can I, Mrs. Wilson.”
