by Lisa Suzanne
I get a chance to catch up one-on-one with every member of MFB, something I’ve sorely needed over the past few weeks, and I’ve walked away with a few revelations. Rascal is growing up and falling in love. Kane is thinking about proposing to Sierra. Dax admitted just to me that Kylie’s pregnant but threatened physical violence if I tell anyone, and Brody is beyond happy with Zoey. It’s crazy how things have fallen into place for all of us, and it’s not just that. I’m walking away with hope. I know deep down that Emily will fight past her fear of the paparazzi, that we can really make this work between the two of us. She wants to try, and so do I. I love her, and that has to be enough.
It’s right around lunchtime when my phone rings.
Her contact is still in my phone, but I’d recognize the number even if it wasn’t. Of course she’s calling me right now because I’m riding a high of hopefulness and happiness and excitement for what comes next.
“I thought for sure you’d take the bait,” Bree says.
I know immediately what she’s talking about.
The guy I almost beat the shit out of two nights ago. The one threatening to release the pictures to the media if I didn’t pay up. “It was you,” I say, the pieces suddenly clicking together. “There was no highest bidder. If I didn’t pay up, you were going to release that photo of us.”
“And I still plan to unless you give me what I want,” she says.
“I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER 39: EMILY
Adam has been with the band all day. They’re playing in San Diego on New Year’s Eve, and they’ve spent the last week away from each other, so they have a lot of catching up to do—both as friends and as a band.
He invited me to attend practice, but I wanted some time alone.
But once I’m alone in our big house, I’m not exactly sure what to do with myself.
I grab my laptop, a notebook, and a pen, and I head up to the patio to look out over the water. I start a quick search of programs for advanced accounting degrees. I find a master’s program at San Diego State University, a twenty-minute drive from where I sit right now, and I glance through the courses I’d have to take to earn my degree. Financial measurement and analysis, taxes, auditing, security management, accounting ethics, mobile technologies...all things that are right up my little nerd alley.
I jot down some of the class titles and make a note of which classes I’d most like to take.
I start to get a little excited. With the money I’ll make by the end of this deal, I’ll have enough to go to school full time...plus, if I play my cards right and invest some of it, I might even be able to work on eventually opening my own accounting firm.
What kind of person takes the hundred thousand dollars handed to them and gets excited about using it to go back to school?
That’s right. Emily Ann Clarke...or, I guess, Emily Ann Wilson.
Emily Wilson.
I pick up my pen again.
I haven’t actually written my new name yet. Even when we bought this house, it was all in Adam’s name. I didn’t have to sign anything. When I signed the contract for this agreement between us and for my position as his assistant, I signed Emily Clarke.
Emily Wilson.
I sign my name on the page, and then I sign it again to try it on for size.
I do it one more time, changing the W.
And again, with a little extra swoop at the end of the n.
When I do it for the fifth time, I’m maybe crossing the line into obsession, but I can’t seem to stop.
I haven’t signed Emily Wilson on a piece of paper since I was a freshman in high school, and I was totally mortified when Amber found it.
I’d be equally mortified if anyone ever found this paper, so I tear out the page, crumble it, and toss it in the trash.
But a little part of me can’t help admitting how nice it felt to write it, even if it still sort of seems like a childhood dream.
On a fresh sheet of paper, I decide to do a little journaling.
I used to write my thoughts all the time, and it always seemed to help when I felt out of sorts. I’m no writer since numbers are more my thing, but if I’ve felt anything over the last few weeks, out of sorts is a great way to describe it.
When I’m done, I close my notebook and set it on top of my laptop as thoughts percolate around my mind.
We have one day left in this year. One day until it’s a new year, which means one day until a fresh start.
And maybe a fresh start means owning up to my feelings and being honest with the man I married.
And that’s my every intention until my phone rings a few minutes later.
“Hey Amber,” I answer.
“What was he doing with Bree today?” she asks without preamble. “I thought they were over and you two were going to give things a try. At least that’s what it sounded like last time I talked to you.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my heart palpitating.
“It’s all over the news. TMZ just reported that Adam went into Bree’s house, and then they showed a picture of him kissing her outside Emerson’s.”
“He’s at Bree’s house?” I ask, my heart dropping down to my stomach.
“Maybe it was old footage, but the video I saw indicated it was today. Is he with you?”
“No,” I wail. “He’s been with the band all day, or at least that’s where he said he’d be.”
“Shit,” she mutters. “Let me check with Rascal. I’ll call you right back.”
I open my laptop back up and check TMZ, and sure enough, there’s Adam in the same Motley Crue t-shirt he left the house in this morning. Bree’s hand is on his arm in the picture as she pulls him into her house.
“Dammit,” I mutter as tears fill my eyes.
I knew this was all too good to be true. Why the hell would he go to Bree’s house when he damn well knew how it would look?
The next picture is the same image that greaseball from last night had.
He sold it to the highest bidder when Adam wasn’t interested, and there’s even a little picture of the two of us from last night in the corner with a tear down the middle of the photo like we’ve already broken up.
Thank God I’m out here without my mic pack where there’s no camera because I sure as hell wouldn’t want anyone catching my reaction to this newest gem.
My phone dings with a text message.
Amber: Rascal said Adam left at lunchtime but he’s back. He’ll call you in a few minutes.
I correctly assume Amber didn’t call so that my phone would be free for Adam, and sure enough, my phone rings a minute later.
“Fuck, babe, I’m sorry,” Adam says as soon as I pick up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
Babe?
He’s never once called me babe.
And that only tells me this is another ploy for the cameras. He’s at band practice, where the cameras most certainly are present.
I hate this.
I hate it so much.
I’ll never know if he’s being genuine with me or if it’s all for the show. I was stupid to agree to give this a try before we fulfill the terms of our contract. All I see happening is my heart getting smashed into pieces over and over and over again.
“We’ll talk later,” I mutter, and I end the call because frankly, right now I don’t want to talk. I don’t want excuses, and I don’t want to know why he went there.
I just want to be alone, which is exactly what I’ve been all day anyway.
By the time he gets home, I’m already asleep...or so he thinks. He tries to shake me awake, but I pretend to be in a deep sleep that he can’t shake me out of even though I hear every word he says.
“It wasn’t what it looked like. I’m sorry.”
It’s the second time he’s said it wasn’t what it looked like, and part of me wants to hear him out, but mostly I just want to sulk and be angry that he ran back to her.
This isn’t supposed to be a love triangle, b
ut he’s turning it into one.
Maybe it’s for the sake of the show, just like everything. And maybe his words to me that he’s in love with me are for the sake of the show, too.
I feel like I’m getting to know him—the real him—but I can’t help wondering whether he’s only showing me the parts of him he wants me to see...again, for the sake of the show.
I’m so sick of the damn show.
I’m sick of Adam, and I’m sick of feeling confused and hurt.
Freaking Chad the cheater didn’t even hurt me like this, and that just goes to show me the truth: Adam has the ability to slice me more deeply than I’ve ever been cut, and I’m just not sure I can put myself in that sort of danger.
The next morning, he’s off to practice before I’m officially awake, though he tried to talk to me again. He backed off when I sleepily murmured, “Just five more minutes,” and then he had to leave.
I have the house to myself again, but tonight I have to put my actress hat back on since I’ve agreed to be his date at the New Year’s Eve party MFB is playing. The band will call their significant others out on stage at midnight for a countdown kiss, and then we’ll party until the break of dawn...or something like that.
“Did you talk to him?” Amber asks me when she barges past me into my front hall a little after noon.
“No. I was asleep when he got home and still asleep when he left this morning.”
“Fucking liar.” She narrows her eyes at me, and I can’t help my sad little laugh. She knows me well.
My eyes edge toward the camera perched in the corner of my front hallway. I’m not wearing my mic pack since I’m home alone, but I don’t really know what the cameras can pick up. “I need to show you something in my closet.” I nod toward the bedroom so we can talk in private.
Once we’re behind the closed door, I collapse on the bed. “I just didn’t want to hear more lies.”
“How do you know he’s lying?” she asks, settling in next to me. We’re both lying on our backs looking up at the ceiling.
“Because this whole thing is a damn lie.”
“I talked to him, Em,” she says quietly. “In Michigan. He’s in love with you. He wants to make this work.”
“How do I know it’s not just more lies for the show?”
“Because I’m sitting here telling you it’s not. We’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember. Do you really think I don’t know the difference between my brother’s truth and his lies?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
She turns toward me and leans on her elbow to prop up her head. “How do you feel about him?”
I stay on my back, staring up at the ceiling rather than facing my friend’s prying eyes.
“I’ve always had a crush on him. You know that. And I think it’s coloring my judgment. I don’t know how I really feel because I’m blinded by how hot he is.”
She makes a gagging sound, and I look over at her.
“What? He’s hot. Sorry, but it’s the truth.”
She laughs. “I guess I’m into William Rascowicz. He didn’t exactly step off the pages of GQ.”
“How are things going with you two?” I ask, glad to get the heat off me for a few minutes.
“Way to deflect, girlfriend. But things are going...good. Really good. Unexpectedly good.”
I lean up on my elbow to mirror her position. “Tell me more.”
She giggles. “We’ve seen each other almost every day since we got back from Vegas. He’ll come by after my shift or after practice and stay the night. It’s been...” She shakes her head as she tries to come up with the right word. “I think I’m falling for him, Em.”
I turn away from her and stare back up at the ceiling, this time full of giggles.
“Why are you laughing?” she demands.
“I just thought of the time he put worms in your mailbox.”
She grunts out a laugh. “He was immature back then.”
“He was twenty-two,” I point out. “It was only like five years ago.”
She laughs. “He said he did it because he liked me.”
I giggle along with her. “I’m glad things are going well for you.”
“They will for you, too.” She touches my arm. “I’ve never seen my brother like this, Em. Not even with Bree.”
“Like what?”
She’s quiet for a minute while she forms her words. “Like he has something to lose.”
I look over at her as heat pricks behind my eyes.
I’m not going to cry.
I blow out a breath. “Fine. I will think about listening to what he has to say.”
“And you’ll do it in your New Year’s best. Let’s start getting ready.”
“We have nearly twelve hours until the big moment,” I say, glancing at the clock.
“Yeah, but we only have five until we need to meet at the guy’s house.” She sits up. “I invited a team over to help us get ready. Hope you don’t mind.”
“A team?” I ask, making a face.
“Make-up, hair, a masseuse, and a whole selection of fancy dresses. Get ready to be pampered. My brother agreed to foot the bill, so go nuts.”
I laugh. “Hey, that’s my husband you’re talking about.”
“And that makes us sisters.”
“You were always my sister from another mister,” I say, sitting up, too.
“But now it’s official.” She tosses her arms around me. “And you’re already making him so happy. And so mad. And extra annoying. So just hear him out, ‘kay?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
After Amber’s team of specialists comes through, we’re ready to go a mere four and a half hours later. I eye my best friend.
“You look so freaking gorgeous.” She chose a red dress that sets off her blonde locks that fall in pretty waves down to the middle of her back.
“Ditto,” she says, nodding with approval while giving me the once-over. “My brother won’t be able to resist you. But spare me the deets about what happens when you two get home.”
I giggle. “Nothing’s going to happen,” I say, and she gives me a look dripping with sarcasm as she makes a circle with her forefinger and thumb as if to say yeah right.
I give myself one last gaze in the mirror. I picked out a sparkly black dress. It’s short but makes my skin glow. My usually wavy hair is straight, and my eyes are covered with dramatic make-up and the longest fake lashes I’ve ever worn and I feel absolutely beautiful.
And more than beautiful, I feel ready for tonight. I feel ready to make a fresh start, to listen to what he has to say, and maybe even to give this a real try.
Despite the things in the back of my mind holding me back—the paparazzi, the fact that he ran to Bree’s, the very real fear I felt the night we were swarmed and then he got violent with that one guy who tried to blackmail him—I’m in love with him.
Those are the things I keep coming back to over and over again, like an endless loop on replay.
And love conquers all, right?
I believe it can conquer the paparazzi and even Bree and all those outside forces.
I guess we’ll see about the rest.
CHAPTER 40: ADAM
I pace like a wild animal. She’s on her way, and I’ve felt this urge to see her all damn day. Work has prevented me from being with her, but she’ll be here soon.
I need to tell her why I was at Bree’s, why I had to talk to her in person. Of course she tipped off the paparazzi. Why wouldn’t she? After all, she’s the one who tipped off whoever got that picture of us out behind Emerson’s.
She planned all of it, and I still didn’t know why...until I got to her place.
And that’s what I need to tell Emily. It wasn’t me running to Bree. It was me doing everything I could to defend what I have with Emily. It was me trying to protect us, especially after she agreed to give us a try.
But I’m afraid all that is blown to hell n
ow because of my ex.
Funny how your history has a way of blowing up your present. I thought what Bree and I had was over and done. In the past. I thought I could move on to a fresh start.
I had no idea that she had spent the last six months holding out hope for us...and further, I had no idea that she was still in love with me.
If yesterday showed me anything, it’s that I’m not still in love with her.
What I feel for Emily far transcends anything I ever felt for Bree. It’s a different kind of love. With Bree, it was all on the surface. I just didn’t realize it at the time because I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. As I think back now, I held onto what I had with her tightly as MFB started rising in success. I never even thought of letting her go because everything else was changing so rapidly and she was my one constant. I liked being in a relationship. I liked having someone to come home to. I liked knowing she was always there, that she didn’t just love me because I was in a band that had started seeing some success.
But she wasn’t the right constant for me.
If I’ve learned anything over the last few weeks, though, it’s that Emily is the right constant for me. She’s someone I can come home to, someone who’s always there, someone who isn’t just with me because I’m in a band.
But she’s so much more than that.
She understands me in a way no one else ever has—even Bree. I can talk to her and share my fears with her just like she does with me. I don’t always have to be the strong one, yet I will always protect her with a ferocity that’s overwhelming even to me.
I know her—and not just who she is as a person, but the glimpses she has let me see of her heart. If our talk two nights ago told me anything, it’s that I’m without a doubt in love with her heart.
And I need to tell her all that...if she’ll ever fucking listen to me.
We’re backstage at Magnolia, the venue we’re playing tonight. It’s smaller and more intimate than our usual venues with under two thousand capacity, but it’s also a New Year’s Eve show. People paid big money to be here tonight, and I know I need to get my head in the game. I’m just having a hard time getting my head in any game when I don’t know where I stand with my wife.
