Page 72 of The Emerson Effect
Emerson
When I get home from that insane weekend in Vegas, my roommates are all waiting for me in the living room. I walk in to find them sitting in silence with their arms crossed over their chests.
“What is this?” I ask, parking my suitcase by the stairs and plopping down onto the couch between Stone and Ritchie. “An intervention?”
“Do you need one?” Mason asks.
“What in the hell happened last night?” Ritchie tosses out before I can answer.
“I wish I knew,” I groan. “Twila and I…we grew close this weekend.”
“Close? What does that mean?” Stone asks.
I widen my eyes and nod my head suggestively. “Close.”
“You slept with her?” Ritchie asks.
“Not exactly, but close enough,” I say. “We went out last night and drank too much tequila before this bachelorette partygot ahold of us and fed us I don’t even know how much champagne. Apparently, they convinced us to get married, and we were too wasted to know it was a bad idea.”
“Did you start the annulment process?” Stone asks, and I shake my head.
“Why not?” Mason cuts in. “Just annul the damn marriage and be done with her.”
“No way,” I say, shaking my head. “I got Twila into this, and I’m not ruining her image if there’s a way to save it.”
I don’t care about my own repercussions as much as I do the ones Twila would face. I can find another marketing job to pay the bills and support my family if I need to. I’m not sure she has anything to fall back on like I do.
“So, what’s the plan?” Mason asks.
“I’m moving in with her,” I say on a sigh. “Tomorrow.”
“What?” Stone barks.
“So, you’re just leaving us?” his twin adds.
“It’s only for a while,” I say in an effort to calm them, “and I’ll still pay my portion of the bills. Plus, Twila said she has room if you guys want to come visit.”
“How long is a little while?” Ritchie asks.
“I don’t know. As long as it takes, I guess. We’re going to film ourselves really giving this thing a shot, then we’ll end it amicably and remain friends. That’s the plan, anyway.”
“It sounds like a bad reality show premise,” Mason grumbles.
“Or perfect BingBang fodder,” Stone counters with a nod. “I think it could work.”
“And we’re sure she’s not a serial killer?” Ritchie asks.
“As certain as I can be,” I say with a chuckle, then I stand up. “I’ve got to go pack.”
“Emerson––” Mason starts, but I cut him off.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
FORTY-ONE
Twila
My stomach is buzzing with bumblebees as I step out onto my front porch. I saw Emerson pull in from the window, and I had to take several deep breaths before pasting on a smile and stepping out to greet him.
