by Lisa Shelby
“Hey, Firefly. How’d you sleep?”
My Max.
“I don’t want to get off the plane.” I feel the moisture gathering in my eyes, and he shakes his head, telling me not to let the tears fall.
“We’re gonna be okay. We will figure this out.”
The other passengers have released their seat belts and are gathering impatiently around the aisles to grab their bags and flee the plane while the two of us don’t move an inch. Locking our gazes on each other, we soak in the last moments we’ll be able to do this.
“Emmett, this is LAX. The moment you step off this plane, there is a good chance you’ll be recognized, and you know there will be paparazzi waiting outside. You ready?”
“As long as I have you by my side, I’m good.”
The man in the seat next to Max is up and grabbing his bag from the overhead bin. Max takes this as his cue to release my hand and scoot away from me. I go to follow him but haven’t taken my seat belt off. I fumble with it while Max grabs the bags, finally releasing myself from my seat and scooting toward the aisle. He moves to let me out into the aisle, whispering, “I’ve got you,” into my ear as I pass by.
And he does.
All the way through the airport to the waiting cameras who aren’t sure I’m somebody, but because of Max’s presence, they assume I must be. Even with my sunglasses in place, the flashing lights from the cameras that wait for us at the terminal exit is enough to throw me off my balance, so I do my best to hide behind Max as he pushes our way through the swarm of paparazzi and finally to our waiting car.
When he opens the back door to the black sedan, I’m breathing heavily, not from exertion but from adrenaline and fear. I don’t know how Josh ever got used to being hounded by the press. It sends a heart-pumping fear through me every time.
Not to mention pictures of me mean whoever is messing with me will see I’m home. Know where I am. Hearing the trunk of the car slam shut sends a wave of relief through me because it should mean he’ll be climbing in next to me.
But I’m left disappointed when Max takes the front passenger seat, leaving me alone in the back seat. He’s checking in with our driver and asking about details not only about Josh and myself but his other clients too.
What Jenn said back in Jersey about Max not having to spend time with clients and assigning jobs to his employees runs through my brain. I’m afraid him being in the field with me again is affecting how he runs his business. We really need to have a conversation about all the logistics of what this is doing to his company when we get home.
Home.
I don’t even know where that is anymore.
It should be Eastlyn, but instead, it’s LA, where I couldn’t feel more alone and further from where I should be. Only now, after spending the past few nights in Max’s arms, I’m not really sure even Eastlyn is home. At least, not if Max isn’t there with me.
If I’m this miserable with Max within reach, how am I going to handle being unable to touch him once we get out of this car?
I have to talk to Josh.
He should know more than anyone how hard this is. He has to hide his relationship with Jace from the world. If there’s anyone I can talk to about this, it’s Josh.
I was put off by the white wreath covered in gold bows and bulbs hanging on the front door when we walked up to the house but it was all I could do not to rip each and every pretentious decoration off the interior walls.
“How is it gaudy and boring at the same time?”
Max chuckles behind me.
We haven’t spoken since getting in the car at the airport, but friendly banter shouldn’t give us away. And walking into what is sort of my home already decorated for Christmas without my input—and so poorly decorated at that—requires conversation. Unfortunately for Greta, she enters the foyer to welcome us home.
“Greta, who did this?”
“Did what, Miss Ford?”
“Who decorated the house? And why didn’t anyone wait for me? I love Christmas, and I had a lot of ideas.”
Am I yelling?
I think I’m yelling.
What is wrong with me?
Her mouth hangs open. She’s either shocked, offended, or both. But she regains her composure. “Mr. West always has the house decorated the day after Thanksgiving. He uses the same service every year.”
“He uses a service?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So he doesn’t even own this stuff? This is all just brought in by a decorator?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t even want to know how much he paid the person who thought fake white trees covered in nothing but gold would make the house feel like Christmas. It’s so pretentious.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Ford. Would you like me to call them and have them come back and add some color?”
Max steps in front of me. “Greta, it’s lovely to see you. I’m sure the décor will grow on Miss Ford if it’s what Mr. West wants.” Turning to me, he cautiously asks, “Shall I take your bags to your room?”
He’s looking at me as though I’m a wild animal he’s trying to wrangle into a crate or something.
Is he trying to handle me?
“Fine.” I storm off toward the staircase that leads to my luxurious room. I’m pissed at him for trying to end my tantrum but not so mad that I don’t see a moment to have five seconds alone with him. “I mean, come on. All white garland on his already all-white walls. And I’m sure he paid thousands for it.” I scoff at the décor lining the hallway leading to my room.
“The gold looks nice. It may not be how you decorate, but the house looks pretty.”
He’s talking under his breath as we enter the room, playing it safe, but I’ve lost all sense. “Really, Max? Oh wait, we’re back in LA. We’re back to Hopper and Miss Ford again, aren’t we?” I swing around, hissing at him. “You think the house looks good?” My back is stiff, and I’m up on my toes trying to get face-to-face with him, begging him to disagree with me.
Ready to fight.
“I think you’re upset because you don’t feel like you have control over your life at the moment. Not getting to have a say in how the house you live in is decorated for your favorite time of year was the last straw.”
Deflating back on my heels, I feel a painful lump forming in my throat, preventing me from saying he’s right, but he is. Looking down at my feet to avoid his knowing eyes, I’m embarrassed by my behavior.
“I was a jerk to Greta. I need to tell her I’m sorry,” I say to the hardwood floor.
“Hey. Look at me.” Doing as he asks, I lift my face and am met with his golden eyes. “I’m here. I got you. Yes, you need to apologize to Greta, but you also need to remember I’m not going anywhere, and you and I can control what we can control when it comes to us.”
With the bedroom door open, I can’t do what feels natural, which is raise up on my toes and kiss him. Instead, I nod my head in understanding as Jace’s voice travels up the stairs, reminding me that I should probably go say hey to Josh.
“Listen, I’m gonna go catch up with Reeves, and you need to go check in with Josh. I’ll be sure to say goodbye before I leave.”
“It’s just a couple of days, right?”
“It’s gonna be a bitch, but I promise I’ll stay in touch.”
With that, he leaves me alone in the middle of my luxurious room. It’s cold compared to the wood-paneled house in snowy New Jersey. What I wouldn’t give to be back there already.
Heading downstairs in search of Josh, I know I’ll feel better once I talk to my best friend.
We will figure this out.
Entering the kitchen, Greta is at the island going over a list of some sort when her eyes lift in anticipation.
“Greta, I’m so sorry. The house looks beautiful. I’m just tired, and I took it out on you.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Miss Ford.” She winks.
“Well, thank you for bein
g so sweet and putting up with me. Is Mr. West in his office?”
“He is, but I believe he’s on a call. I can check for you.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll go pop in and see if he’s available.”
She’s right, he is busy, but he waves at me through the doors as he paces back and forth like he usually does on business calls. He must be talking to his agent.
Jace starts to rudely close the big French doors in my face without so much as a hello. I put my foot in his way and stop the doors from shutting completely.
“Jace, I need to talk to Josh when he’s off his call.”
“You’ll have to wait.”
Thump.
The doors close in my face, the wood grazing my nose.
Wow, what’s gotten into him? I sure hope things are okay with the movie.
Oh my God, do they already know? Did Jace shut me out because somehow Max and I were already noticed by someone? If so, does that mean the paparazzi know?
The squeak of the new leather couch outside Josh’s office echoes off the walls when I plop down in a pout. It’s new, like everything else in the house. Just like me.
Even as his oldest friend, I feel like a kid waiting outside the principal’s office, wondering what her punishment is going to be.
Fortunately, only a couple of minutes pass before the door swings open.
“Emmy! I’m so glad you’re home!” He holds his arms out wide, and the couch squeaks again when I jump up and hop into the arms of my best friend.
Seeing his warm smile waiting for me when he walked out of his office reminded me how much I’ve missed him. He’s my person, and it’s felt strange keeping what’s going on with Max from him. He doesn’t even know where I’ve been for the past five days.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Josh. We have so much to catch up on. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Always for you.”
Jace walks into the room. “Hey, Emmett. Good to see you, girl,” he says with a much different attitude than when he closed the door in my face, pulling me into a hug.
“Hey, you. Good to see you too.”
“Are you doing okay? I’m really sorry to hear about the nonsense that happened when you were in Eastlyn. Even more sorry you missed Thanksgiving with the fam.” He releases me, and Josh puts his arm around me.
“I’m fine. Did you have a good holiday with your family?”
“It was great. I hated to leave Josh on his own, but it was really good to see my mom. It had been way too long. But listen, I’m gonna let you guys catch up. Maybe we can all do dinner later this week?”
“Dinner sounds great, Jace.”
“Oh, and don’t forget you two have dinner with the Smiths tonight.”
Shit, we really are back from our bubble in New Jersey. Dinner with other celebrity couples is already happening my first night back. Great.
“I’ll be there,” I say, deflating inside at the thought of having to be with anyone other than Max.
As much as I like Jace, I’m happy to see him leave the room. It’s always nice to get time alone with Josh. It’s rare these days.
“Hey, come talk to me while I finish up a couple of things.” I follow him and close the French doors of his office, looking for some privacy. I’m relieved when he sits down on the white microfiber couch instead of behind his desk and pats the seat next to him. “Talk to me, Emmy.”
“I thought you had some stuff to finish up?”
I take the seat next to him, doing my best to delay the conversation about to take place.
“It can wait. I can tell you have something on your mind.” Yes, he can be selfish, but he can also be that sweet boy who knows me so well. “Let me just say, I am so sorry all of this is happening. If I had known there would be psychos out there just waiting to make your life miserable, I would have never agreed to this.”
“I know. We didn’t know this would happen.”
“How can I make it up to you?”
“Well, actually. You’ve already given me something; you just don’t know it yet.”
His furrowed brow says he’s confused, and his silence says he’s waiting for me to spill it.
“I know this is going to sound crazy, but somehow, during this mess, I’ve actually met someone.”
“I’m sorry, did you say you met someone?”
“Yes, you heard me right. I, Emmett Ford, met someone. Crazy, I know.”
As if in slow motion, he rises from the couch and walks the length of the room. The face aimed at me when he turns around isn’t one I’ve ever seen before. He’s a mixture of angry and disgusted. Why do I get this sick feeling that this conversation isn’t going to go quite as I had anticipated?
“What do you mean you met someone?” he growls from across the room.
“Hey. Don’t freak out. I haven’t been in public with this person, and it’s all very new.”
“Don’t freak out? You’re my fucking fiancée, Emmett! What the hell are you thinking?”
Standing to meet his rage with my own, I walk toward him, but he backs up until his desk is between us. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
“What exactly should I understand? That you signed a contract and only a few months in, you’ve already broken it. I never would have thought you could be this selfish!” he all but spits his words at me.
“Selfish? Are you serious right now?”
“That’s exactly what you are, Emmett. I mean, come on! How could you do this to me?”
“It’s not like I planned it. I didn’t sign my life over to you for two years, lie to everyone in my life about our engagement, and move to Los Angeles so I could throw a wrench in it all. Life happens sometimes, you know?”
“You may not have planned it, but here we are.”
“Josh, I’m sorry, but you need to give me a chance to explain.”
His arms are crossed over his heaving chest, his nostrils are flaring, and his seething glare cuts right through my heart.
I have no idea who this man in front of me is.
Where did my best friend go?
“Go ahead, explain.”
“Listen, I...I...we have no plans to go public.”
“I thought it was ‘new.’ Now you’re a ‘we?’”
“Josh, what is going on? I know I have well over a year and a half left on the contract, and I can keep it private until that time is over. It sucks, but if you and Jace can make it work…”
“Do not compare me and Jace with whatever this is.” He waves his hand at me, dismissing Max and me before he knows a thing about our relationship. He finally sits down. Hopefully, this a good sign, and he’s calming down.
“Josh. Why are you reacting this way? You know I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your career. I know how important our engagement is.”
“Who is it?”
Thank God I didn’t blurt Max’s name out when this conversation started. There is no way I’m telling him now.
“Nobody.”
He jumps out of his seat, sending it crashing into the floor-to-ceiling bookcase behind him, pounding his fist into the desk before bellowing. “Tell me!”
“Why do you get to be with someone, and I don’t?”
Still screaming, he ignores my question. “Emmett, tell me who the fuck it is!”
“You’re irrational. Do you really think I would tell you anything right now when you’re behaving like this? I don’t even know who you are.”
My phone rings, scaring me half to death, and I drop it on the floor. I’m shocked when Josh jolts in front of me to grab it, but he doesn’t get what he was hoping for. I’m so glad I changed Max’s name to The Greatest in my phone after his mom told me the meaning behind her boys’ names.
“Is that him?” he says with a sneer in place, making fun of the nickname.
I grab my phone from his hand, silencing it as I head to the door to end this conversation that isn’t going anywhere. “Josh, you know I would never hur
t you.”
My phone lights up.
The Greatest: You okay? Need me?
Me: I’m fine. We’re just about done here.
“You’re seriously going to walk away right now?”
“I came in here to talk to my best friend, but he isn’t anywhere to be found. I think this conversation is over.”
“I really can’t believe you’re doing this to me, Emmett!” he yells at my back.
“Right back at ya, Josh,” I whisper to myself. Taking the back staircase to my room, I’m hoping to avoid Max and everyone who may have heard the humiliating scene.
Chapter 17
Once locked inside my room, I slowly unpacked and took a long hot shower. Much to my dismay, the twenty minutes under the water didn’t wash away the hurt. My chest still feels tight from the pain.
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I’ve just started towel-drying my hair when I hear a knock on the door.
“Emmy, it’s me. Can we talk?”
I don’t care how pathetic he sounds on the other side of the door; he’s the last person I want to talk to.
“Please, just leave me alone.”
“Come on, Emmett. I’ve had some time to calm down, and I’m ready to talk.”
Huh, so he’s ready to talk. As long as he’s ready, then by all means. Jerk.
“Well, I’m not. Go away.”
“What about dinner with the Smiths?”
Is he kidding me right now?
“You’re on your own tonight.”
I walk into the en suite bathroom and shut the door behind me. If he has anything else to say, I don’t want to hear it. I turn on the blow dryer for good measure, blocking out the possibility of him hurting me any further.
I don’t bother putting on any makeup or really doing anything with myself but still stall long enough that Josh has probably given up on trying to talk to me. I crack the door to my bedroom to take a listen, and when I find things are quiet, I leave the bathroom and crawl into my bed.