Page 89 of The Emerson Effect
Twila and I helped them monetize their accounts once they both reached ten thousand followers, and they’re all on the road to making some decent additional income.
Plus, while we were gone, I got two new sponsorship offers. Twila got three. Damn, life is good.
Except that Twila was quiet on the drive home. I assumed she was just tired, so I didn’t try to force conversation on her. Now, she’s taking a bath, and I’m waiting for the food I ordered for dinner. The longer I wait, the more I obsess over that quiet drive back from L.A. and what it might mean.
The food arrives, saving me from coming up with any doomsday scenarios. I call out to let her know it’s here, and she emerges a few minutes later in shorts and a tank top with wet hair and a glum expression that strikes fear through me.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Let’s eat first,” she says, dispelling none of my fear.
Is she really planning on leaving me hanging like this? It appears so, since she’s not talking as she sits down and grabs the salad she ordered from the bag on the table. We eat in silence. More specifically,sheeats in silence since my stomach is churning too` violently to even consider taking a bite. When Twila notices, she sighs, drops her fork into her half-eaten salad, and stands up. I stand, too, and she takes my hand, leading me into the living room and onto the couch beside her. I’m panicking, but she just looks resigned.
“How long are we going to keep up this charade?” she asks, finally.
I’m honestly taken aback. “Where did that come from?”
“Emerson, our friends and your family are getting the wrong idea about us. It feels like we’re leading them on, and it’s not fair to them.”
“The wrong idea? What are you talking about?” I ask.
I’m so confused. We’re not lying to anyone we’re close to. They all know what this is supposed to be. A sham of a relationship. One that isn’t supposed to end this quickly. We’ve barely given our marriage a decent shot for our viewers.
“They think we’re falling for each other, Emerson,” she says in low tones.
I jerk back like she slapped me. There’s no lie in that statement on my end, because I sure as hellamfalling for her. She must realize it, because she looks like she’s about to cry. Like she knows she’s breaking my heart right now, and though necessary, it hurts her, too.
“I’m sorry I broke our deal,” she says, shocking me out of the downward spiral through which I was plunging.
“What? How did you break our deal?” I ask, honestly confused.
“I…have feelings for you,” she whispers, and my heart starts to race, “after we agreed this was fake and temporary. I can’t do this anymore. Not when every minute I spend with you makes my heart crumble a little more.”
Before I can respond, she hops to her feet and dashes up the staircase to her room. I sit, frozen, watching her go, and then it hits me.
Twila just admitted she has feelings for me.
I muffle a bark of laughter with my fist. This is as real for her as it is for me. She thinks it has to end, but it doesn’t have to. Not if she’s falling for me. Not when I’ve already fallen ass over elbows for her, too.
Yes. Thank you, universe. And now, I know what I have to do.
FIFTY-ONE
Twila
It’s been an hour since I spewed the truth all over Emerson, and I’m still panicking. He hasn’t come up to try to talk to me. For all I know, he’s gone, deciding that leaving his belongings behind is better than having to respond to my unsolicited confession. Yeah, he probably ran. Got out of here before I suggested something crazy, like we shouldstaymarried.
My phone chimes with a BingBang notification, and when I read it, my eyes widen so much, it’s almost painful.
The Emerson Effect is now live.
What the…? I just poured my heart out to him, and he’s making content? It seems so out of character for him, I have no choice but to open the app and watch.
I hold my breath as his handsome face appears on the screen, my living room wall in the background. He appears to be waiting silently for something, his eyes focused on the bottom of the frame like he’s reading the comments. The second I tap myscreen to watch the live, he blows out a breath and looks up at his phone’s camera.
“I have a confession to make,” he says, swallowing thickly, “and I’m not sure how you all will react. Hell, I may be cancelled after this, but it has to be done. My future happiness depends upon it.”
What is he talking about? Before I can even finish the thought, Iknow. He’s going to out us. I admitted my feelings, and he’s ending this whole charade with a bang because he wants to be done with it. I don’t even have the strength to try to stop him. I slump to the floor and watch with tears dripping down my face.
