Page 60 of Reputation (Tempt)

“Of course,” Emerson said in a chipper voice. She sealed her reusable snack bag and headed to the fridge.

I didn’t buy it, but I also wasn’t going to push. For now. Emerson had never seemed so…fragile. Breakable. I didn’t like it.

Brooklyn bounded downstairs. “Can we watch a movie?”

“Sure,” I said, glancing at Emerson. “You’ll join us, right?”

“Of course she’s joining us,” Brooklyn said, taking her hand and staring up at Emerson in adoration. “We’re family now.”

If someone had asked me to describe the perfect mom for Brooklyn, it would be Emerson. She was playful and creative yet enforced boundaries. Brooklyn trusted her, loved her. And while I wished I could give my daughter the world—including a mom who would love her and be there for her in a way my ex hadn’t, I had to remember that this was all just an act. I only hoped Brooklyn wouldn’t be too crushed when it inevitably came to an end.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

“Well, that went well,” I said, yawning.

We’d just put Brooklyn to bed, and she’d been bubbling over with excitement—and questions—about the engagement. It made me feel both better and worse about the situation, about lying to her. She was clearly overjoyed by the news—a relief. She didn’t seem to suspect or question that it had come out of the blue—also a relief. But her enthusiasm only made me feel even worse for perpetuating the lie.

“It did,” Nate said. “You must be exhausted.”

I nodded. If tonight was any indication, this whole charade was going to be even more difficult than I’d expected.

My shoulders slumped. “I am, but I still need to finish packing for our trip.”

He pursed his lips. “Maybe we should push our departure back.” When my eyes flashed to his, he added. “Just by a few days.”

“You need that time to help combat jet lag before you start filming. And check in with the crew.” I couldn’t believe he was even considering it. “Plus, Brooklyn’s looking forward to spending that time with you.”

“Delaying the trip by a few days wouldn’t be that big of a deal. It would give us time to talk strategy, and I can spend time with Brooklyn here.”

“Where? Cooped up at the house?” There was no way we were going outside. Not with the paparazzi still parked at the gate and helicopters and drones buzzing overhead. “We should just go. I’m fine.”

I didn’t disagree about the need to discuss our strategy, but I didn’t think it was going to takedays.At least, I hoped not.

He eyed me with no small amount of skepticism. But before he could open his mouth to protest, his phone vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket, and I recognized my bejeweled phone case. I’d been so caught up in telling Brooklyn that I hadn’t pushed for Nate to give back my phone. And honestly, it was almost easier to ignore reality if I didn’t have to deal with the missed calls and messages that were sure to be piling up.

“It’s your dad,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “He’s called a few times. Do you want me to talk to him?”

I shook my head and held out my hand for the phone. I knew I needed to answer it. I didn’t want Dad to worry.

“You’re sure?” he asked, clearly hesitant to hand over the device.

I swiped it from him. “Yes.”

I headed down to the gym for some privacy before I connected the call. “Hi, Dad.”

I closed the door. The large space was soundproof, and the yoga room was one of my favorite places in the house. The walls were covered in a mix of porthos, ferns, and other greenery that added dimension and texture. And there was this amazing skylight that went up to the first floor, flooding the room with natural light during the day.

On the wall next to me was a hidden keypad that led to the panic room. I hadn’t used it, and I hoped I’d never need to.

“What the hell, Emmy? I’ve been worried sick.”

I wanted to ask if he’d been worried about me or how this would affect my chance to compete, but I bit my tongue.

“You should’ve called,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” I dropped my head. “I would’ve, but things have been…crazy.”

“No shit. You’re engaged? To your boss, of all people?” His questions came fast.Toofast. Each word laced with judgment and disappointment. “What the hell are you thinking?”

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