“Your turn,” he said, eyeing up the omelets.
“We’ll eat first.”
“You have time?”
Sean glanced at the clock. It was just before seven. His interview with America Today was scheduled for ten, if he remembered correctly. He’d have enough time to drive home and change into a decent outfit.
“I do. But not long.”
“Enough time for…?” Emerson raised his eyebrow again.
Laughing, Sean turned from the stove and wrapped his arms around Emerson’s waist. “Probably not,” he said. When he pulled away, Emerson’s face was oddly serious.
“When can I see you again?”
Sean returned to the stove and prepared the second omelet for its flip. “Soon, I hope.”
Emerson sighed. “I guess you don’t know what you’re doing from one minute to the next. Must be hard.”
“It is. Eat before it gets cold.”
Emerson grabbed his plate, and then removed a jar of salsa from the fridge. Definitely a boy of the southwest if he wanted salsa with eggs. The combination turned Sean’s stomach.
After he flipped the second omelet and let it cook a minute, he plated his own breakfast. He sat down at the small, blocky table across from Emerson.
“I meant what I said last night,” Sean said before taking a bite. “I fell in love with you Em. Instantly.”
Emerson didn’t even look up from his food. “I don’t believe you. Despite the stories, that doesn’t happen in real life.”
Sean shrugged. “I was just telling you so you don’t think you’re not important to me. Yes, my schedule is hectic, but that doesn’t mean I’ll blow you off, or try to string you along. We can see each other regularly. Date, if you’re interested.”
Emerson set down his fork and regarded Sean with calm eyes. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, of course I am. I want to be with you.”
A bark of a laugh escaped Emerson’s mouth. “Honestly? Sean, you don’t make sense to me. Why do you want to be with me? I have nothing to offer you.”
“That’s not true. I—”
Emerson cut him off. “No, don’t say anything. I’m not asking for compliments.” He sighed deeply, then picked up his fork. “Yes is my answer. I like being with you, even if I’m having a hard time comprehending why you feel the same.”
Sean cut off a bite of his egg and plopped it into his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, “I know you’re not looking for unworthy praise. It’s not the kind of guy you are.”
“You don’t know what kind of guy I am, Sean.”
“Maya Angelou said something like, ‘people will never forget how you made them feel.’ Since I’ve met you, I feel happy, Em. Isn’t that enough?”
Emerson’s voice was small. “It is enough.”
“I’ll call you after my interview. I’ll have to start recording this afternoon, but I’ll have time for dinner tomorrow.”
Emerson reached his hand across the table, palm up. Sean placed his own hand atop it. “Dinner sounds lovely. Why don’t you come here? I’ll cook something for you.”
“Sounds perfect. And Em? Since your name has been leaked to the press in relation to me, do you mind if I mention you?”
“Mention me? To who?”
“I did say I have an interview today.” He sighed dramatically, then smiled so Emerson knew he was teasing.
“Why would you want to talk about me in an interview? Don’t you stick to music and your albums?”
“The media love personal tidbits, and I’m sure you’ll be the first subject they’ll inquire about. You haven’t released any statements at all. And I’ve kept my mouth shut, too. The world is dying to know more about you. About us.”
A hint of color touched Emerson’s cheeks, and for a moment, Sean feared he’d angered the other man.
Then Emerson began to ramble. “I don’t want…I mean, it was never my idea to…I don’t want to get into the spotlight, Sean.”
Sean marveled. Emerson was a saint. So many of Sean’s exes had basked in the pseudo-fame that followed him, posing for the paparazzi and enjoying the exposure. Why was Emerson so different?
“I don’t want to drag you into anything, but if you are my boyfriend, then it’s going to get out sometime. Better when it’s my choice, where I can control the flow of information.”
Emerson nodded, his face flushing ever darker. “Yes, of course you’re right. I just don’t want you to think I’m after something.”
“Well I do hope you’re after my body.”
Finally, Emerson relaxed and grinned. “If you insist, I will be.”
“Just not now. No time to enjoy it properly. Now finish your omelet and kiss me goodbye.”
* * * *
When Sean got home it was eight-thirty and the king and queen of his entourage had already assembled. Jake stood beside Pip, who ate from his food bowl, and Macie was sipping coffee while perched atop a barstool. “You’re late,” she said.
“I told you I’d be here a little after eight.” He glanced at Jake and lifted a hand in greeting. “Thanks for feeding Pip.”
“No problem,” Jake answered. “Now, into the shower. We don’t have time to waste.”
“I know, I know.”
Sean showered and when he emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, he found Jake had already set out his clothing. Sean wondered if Emerson would think it funny that Sean rarely picked out his own outfits. He lacked an eye for fashion. Jake, as his publicist, was well versed in the latest trends. Sean had to dress the part of a pop star.
Today’s ensemble was a pair of faded skinny jeans, a pale blue shirt, and a gray cardigan. There was also a fedora beside the clothes. After dressing, he didn’t bother slicking his hair to the side or anything since the hat would cover it all anyway. He set the fedora atop his head and slanted it to the side.
He looked good.
Then it was rushing out the door, chugging a protein shake on the drive, and being hustled into makeup at the America Today studio. Macie handled all the background necessities—giving them the basic info of the tour, the topics that were or weren’t to be discussed. Jake hovered, making sure the makeup artist did an adequate job. After all, if they failed, it was a reflection on Jake—or so he claimed.
When Macie returned from whatever tasks she’d finished, she glared down at Sean. “Keep the talk about Emerson to a minimum.”
Before Sean could even argue, Jake spoke up. “Macie, the public loves a good romance. We should let this one run its course. Drum up the publicity while we can.”
“You know that statistics show sales are down when Sean has a boyfriend.”
Jake shook his head. “Emerson’s already in this. Sean dating a dick like Carl is seen one way. Sean dating the man who saved his life is an entirely different monster. We run with it.”
Though Macie had ultimate say over all their decisions, Jake spoke as if he had made the ruling. Even more surprising was when Macie nodded.
“Just be careful what you say,” she warned.
“Emerson doesn’t want this anymore than you do, Macie. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. But like Jake said, he’s already in this mess.”
Finished with makeup, they got him to the room where they would be filming the segment for tomorrow’s live show. A stagehand placed a mic on Sean’s shirt. They checked the volume, the lighting, and their recording equipment. During all this, Laura Driver, the news anchor, settled across from him.
Sean shook her hand. They’d spoken several times before, and she was nice and personable.
“It’s great to have you back,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks, Laura.”
She fiddled with her mic, and the wire that connected to her earpiece. She regarded him over bright red glasses. “So, any topics that are off limits?”
The studio—and by association, Laura—had been given the list. She already knew which topics were not allowed. But she want
ed the verbal confirmation. She was probably thanking her lucky stars she’d be the first to break the story.
“In regards to Emerson, you’re free to ask any questions you want.”
There was a gleam in her eyes, amplified by the lenses in her glasses. “Okay.”
“We’re all set,” called out one of the stagehands.
“You ready?” Laura asked.
“Whenever you are.”
She nodded to the cameraman. A red light flashed atop the hulking machinery. The operator counted them in, then pointed.
“Good morning New York, and our viewers around the country. I’m Laura Driver and I’m so excited to welcome Sean Stirling back to our studio. He’s celebrating a recent win at the Grammy’s, making him a three-time winner of the Best Artist award. Plus, his single “Flyin’ High” won “Song of the Year.” Sean, congratulations!”
Sean smiled. “Thank you, Laura. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
“So, the big news isn’t about your Grammy win, but the fact you were almost struck by a car while walking downtown.”
Not really a question, but Sean launched into the story anyway. “Yeah, it was all pretty scary. I took a walk after a photoshoot to get some fresh air. I slipped in a patch of snow and a good Samaritan swooped in to save me.”
Her grin took on an eager edge. “Emerson Willis? Is that correct?”
Sean laughed. He knew when to ham it up and play along. “Correct. Emerson didn’t recognize me. When I asked him to stay with me, he did so out of the kindness of his heart. He even rode with me to the hospital.”
“Amazing, though I didn’t think there was a single person in America who doesn’t know your name.”
“That’s being generous. But he really had no idea. Once he found out, he seemed more scared than I was.”
Laura chuckled politely. “And the two of you have become friends? Or something more?”
Here was the real question. Her eyes were razor sharp. “Something more, definitely. We’ve had dinner a few times, and I hope to do so more in the future.”
Off the corner of his eye, Sean spotted Macie. She made the “let’s wrap this up” motion. He ignored her.
“How romantic!” Laura gushed. “And how does Emerson feel about dating a celebrity?”
Sean held up his hands and smiled widely. “Come on, Laura, I’m still just a person. Emerson’s been very supportive since the moment I met him.”
“Does he live here in the city?”
“Yeah, he does. He’s a customer representative at Olympus Cruise Line.”
On the side of the room, he saw Macie smack herself in the face. Maybe he was making a publicity nightmare, but these details would come out eventually. Better to get it all in the open now.
“That seems like a big switch from Carl Flores.”
Sean forced a chuckle. “Yeah, well Carl was the only boyfriend I’ve had who’s been in show business as well. I’m more than happy being with someone who doesn’t have an equally hectic life.”
“And Carl has set his sight on Travis Ross—an even bigger name in the music business. Do you feel he’s trying to upgrade, while you’ve downgraded?”
The callousness of the question didn’t startle Sean. That was the way certain people thought; she was simply stating the opinion of a large portion of the population.
“No, of course not. At their core, a person is a person, no matter their job. This is a new chapter in my life. Doesn’t mean the previous chapter was better or worse, only different.”
“An interesting way to view it. Now what about the tour you’re kicking off next month? Can your budding relationship sustain three weeks on the road?”
He smiled as graciously as he knew how. “I guess we’ll see when the tour is over.”
She moved onto safer topics after that, the tour dates, speculation on the new album, and then he got his guitar and played her a song.
It was over in ten minutes.
Laura stood and shook his hand vigorously. “It was a pleasure, Sean.”
He nodded.
She left, and after someone removed his mic, he was chauffeured out of the room.
Chapter 12
Emerson felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he rode the elevator to the eleventh floor. Sean’s report of the interview—filmed yesterday, aired in an hour—had been…complicated. Sean insisted the facts had to get out there, that people would make asinine assumptions. Handling it head on was the best way. Emerson has to trust Sean’s judgement on this.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to watch it, honestly. Sean had told him the gist, a couple barbed comments about normal people being less worthy of Sean’s time and affection. Of course people thought that. Sean was special. He deserved someone special.
When he got to his cubicle, Rob blocked the entry and stared at him with wide eyes. Emerson has been expecting this, too.
“Emerson,” Rob said like an accusation. “Why didn’t you tell us on Friday that you’re dating Sean Stirling?”
Emerson grabbed Rob’s arm and dragged him into the tiny space. “Quiet,” he hissed. He hunched his shoulders so he wouldn’t be seen over the top of the walls, then whispered, “I wasn’t dating Sean Stirling on Friday. I started dating him on Saturday.”
“My God. I can’t believe this.”
“I’m having trouble believing it as well.”
“It was just a snippet on the news,” Rob explained. “The 911 call, and then you said your name. I didn’t think it was you, but then they played the video again. Jesus! It’s so unreal! You jumped into the path of a moving car.”
Suddenly, Mal was there. She pitched her voice low, to match theirs. “What the fuck, Emerson? You’re dating Sean Stirling?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “Listen, I don’t have time to talk about this now. I need to see Ms. Bell.”
They both drew back at that. “Why?” Mal asked.
“I just need to ask her permission for something. We can talk at lunch.”
He brushed by them and headed down the aisle to Ms. Bell’s office. Her secretary—Mike—stopped him with a raised hand. He held a phone up to his ear, so Emerson hadn’t been about to interrupt.
“Of course,” Mike said, then hung up. He pulled at the knot of his tie, then met Emerson’s gaze. “Emerson? What’s up?”
“I was wondering if I could speak to Ms. Bell for a moment.”
“Should be fine,” he answered. “Knock before you go in.”
Emerson went up to the door and tapped against the heavy wood. A soft, “Come in,” called from the other side. He pushed it open and entered her office.
As the branch manager, she had an amazing setup. Floor to ceiling windows on the north and west sides of the room. The east had built-in shelves containing books, pictures, and other personal mementos. Her desk, a massive thing, took up half the south wall. Currently, Ms. Bell had her head peering close to her computer screen and her cell phone resting beside the keyboard. She was young for such a high position, but he’d heard gossip of her business brilliance.
After a moment her gaze left the screen and regarded him. They’d had a few interactions over the three years Emerson had worked here, but nothing overly deep.
Her green eyes narrowed before she said, “Emerson?”
“Yes, Ms. Bell.”
“What can I do for you?”
“This is going to sound childish, but I wanted to request permission for a fifteen-minute break at nine this morning.”
She glanced at clock on the wall. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Everything okay? Not an emergency?”
“No, nothing like that. Which is why I wanted to have permission. It’s purely personal in nature.”
She grinned and nodded. “That’s not a problem at all, then. I admire your professionalism.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Many might have just snuck to the bathroom. I’m assuming it’s some sports show or something you need to see live.”
Emerson returned her smile. “Something like that. Sean Stirling is doing an interview for America Today and I wanted to watch it.”
Her whole body went rigid. “Sean Stirling? You’re a fan of his?”
“Err, well…we’ve gone out a few times.”
Her eyes went wide and she smacked her hands down loudly on her desk. “Emerson Willis!” Her voice climbed higher in decibels. “Oh my God! I never made the connection!” She rushed forward, around her desk and into Emerson’s space. “You saved his life!” She threw her arms around his neck.
Awkwardly, Emerson patted her back.
She pulled away, a very different smile on her face, open and inviting. “I’m a huge Sean Stirling fan.”
“I’ve gathered.”
She retreated a few steps. “Sorry to get so worked up. I can’t help it when Sean’s involved. I’ve seen him in concert three times. Actually,” she turned to the shelf with her knick-knacks. “I got a picture with him at the last one. I paid a heavy price for a meet and greet before the show.” She removed a frame and handed it out to Emerson.
Emerson gazed down at it. Ms. Bell looked ecstatic, and almost unrecognizable in a tank top and her black hair hanging to her shoulders. At work, she was always in business suits with her hair wrapped in a tight bun. Sean, though, looked the same. Emerson’s heart beat a bit faster gazing at the photo. Sean was wearing black slacks, a white shirt, and a vest. The smile on his face was sweet and kindly. His arms were around Ms. Bell in a tight hold. It was a lovely picture.
When he handed it back, Ms. Bell regarded him. “So, what’s the scoop? With you and Sean,” she clarified when he stared at her blankly.
“Oh, well, he’s…my boyfriend.” It felt odd saying that. Like he was a high schooler with a new crush.
Her eyes got even bigger. Emerson didn’t think that was possible.
“Have you kissed him?”
Emerson opened his mouth—he wasn’t really sure how he was going to answer—but she stopped him.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That’s private information. As your supervisor, it’s not right for me to pry.”
That convinced him. She wasn’t someone from the media, trying to hound him for information. She was honestly curious because she loved Sean. “Yeah, I’ve kissed him.” A hint of heat touched his cheeks. “After we left the hospital, he dropped me off at my apartment. He kissed me then.”
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