Page 87 of The Love Interest
“Anyway, I have a damn Pulitzer. You’re aNew York Timesbest-selling author with a damn movie franchise. Fuck ’em. It’ll make our Wikipedia pages more interesting. We’ve both worked too hard to let a little scandal tarnish our reputations. Don’t you let this tarnish your relationship with Fiona.”
“I don’t plan to. Thank you. For understanding.”
He reaches for his phone. “I will call Tom for you right now.”
“No. I don’t want you to get involved. I’ll email him to ask for a meeting. Before Veronica’s supposed to see him tomorrow.”
“I feel as though in some way I got you into this mess. The least I can do is help to iron things out for you.”
“I don’t blame you for this at all, Dad. If anything, the mess is what turned this love into a love story. Right?”
I get up from the sofa and hold my hand out to shake his. He stares at my hand, stands up, and comes around from behind his desk to give me a hug. The first real hug he’s given me, as far as I can recall, in thirty-five years. I’m too stunned to have an emotional reaction, but it doesn’t last long enough for me to lean into it.
When he pulls away, he mutters, “I’ll tell your mother about all this. You know she’s going to insist on having Fiona over for dinner very soon, right?”
I have to clear my throat before saying, “I look forward to it. Thank you.”
I wait until I’m in the car before pulling out my phone to email Delancey and find a series of text notifications from Fiona. Scanning the messages, it’s clear to me from the emojis and typos that she’s been drinking even before she informed me of this. I can’t wait to see her damn face.
ME: You’re a nutjob. I’m leaving my parents’ house in Connecticut now. I will text you when I get home. Try to sober up, will you? We need to talk.
ME: P.S. I also wanted to tell you this in person, but I ducking love you too.
42
FIONA
I’m really good at pretending to be sober.
I mean, I don’t even have to pretend, really. I took a nap after I ate and totally processed most of the alcohol from the three or four glasses of wine in my system. It’s one thirty and Emmett has texted me that he’s downstairs and we’re going to go for a walk. I’m all bundled up in my puffy coat and he’s all bundled up in his puffy coat and we’re like two sexy teddy bears hugging each other on the stoop.
He loves me. He said so in a text. I am low-key thrilled about this and acting super chill.
“Iluffyou!” I stage whisper into his ear while kissing him all over his face.
“You smell like a winery,” he says, chuckling. “Ilervyou too.”
“Youloooveme, youloooooooveme.”
“Shhhh. Let’s keep that on the DL for now.”
“I have no idea what ‘DL’ means because I’m not forty.”
He pulls away from me and gives me a smack on the butt. I can’t feel it through the coat, but I can stillfeelit. “It means keep your voice down and listen. I have to talk to you about something really important, and I need you to focus.” He takes my hand and leads me down the steps.
I nod my head vehemently, but the only thing I can focus on is his hand and my hand andoh my God, we’re holding hands in public!Yes, it’s the middle of the night and no one else is around, but this counts as being in public. I am so glad I’m sober enough to enjoy this.
“You’re just thinking about the fact that I’m holding your hand in public, aren’t you?”
“Youdon’know me.”
And then he starts telling me things that sober me up for real.
Veronica threatened him.
He went to Connecticut to talk to his father.
He wants to come clean about us to the department chair before Veronica gets the chance to talk to him.
