Page 137 of The Golden Scoop

Emma’s not surprised. She’s bracing herself. It’s mind-boggling how this woman, who’s so good at reading people, still hasn’t figured out just how much I’m in love with her.

“You fought for me,” I whisper.

“I fought for the truth,” she says, shaking her head. I give her a look and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. Maybe for you too.”

She’s still careful. Slightly guarded. But always honest.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “That note⁠—”

“You don’t have to apologize, Matt,” she interrupts.

“I do. Not just for the note, but for all of it,” I insist, raising a finger when she tries to cut me off again. “I shouldn’t have left. I acted like a child. Didn’t even give you a chance to explain. I was scared.”

Every word lifts something off my chest. The ache gets lighter by just having her here, close enough to touch but still not quite mine. It’s worse in the best way possible.

“This is not on you. I understand why you did it,” Emma says. “Can’t imagine what went through your head when you read that email. I should’ve just told you the truth.”

I frown and shake my head.

“Nothing should’ve gone through my head because I should’ve trusted you. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t as simple as it looked,” I tell her truthfully. “But in that moment, the fear that everything between us wasn’t real took over.”

“Which would’ve been solved if I’d told you about my actual job,” she says with a small shrug. “And for the sake of full transparency, I made a deal with Martha over this article. It was my ticket out of gossip.”

“Of course you did. Even more reason to keep quiet for until everything was settled. Telling me would’ve only risked your career.” I scoff. “No way. You said it yourself, the industry’s brutal. Both yours and mine. It’s normal you didn’t trust them. Or me, for that matter. Men haven’t given you many reason to believe in them in the first place.”

I stare at her and feel something split between awe and annoyance, because she still doesn’t seem to realize just how much credit she should give herself for what she’s accomplished.

“Most men,” she corrects. “I have my dad, Harrison, and… you.”

“Which version of me?” I ask, the frustration toward myself bleeding through.

“The one who showed me life isn’t black or white. Truth or lies,” Emma whispers, her hand slowly reaching for mine. “You made me realize people have layers. I shouldn’t judge the first one, then make up my mind from there.”

She’s right, of course.

But look where that’s left her. Defending me. Losing her job. Yet sitting here like she hasn’t lost anything at all. She went through that by herself.

“I called you this morning,” I say suddenly, the thought finally catching up to me. “It went to voicemail. Thought you were mad, then I read the article. Went to your office to back you up, but Kate said you weren’t there.”

“When do I ever need backup, Matthew?” she jokes with a half-smile.

I don’t deserve her.

“Could’ve done something,” I mutter.

“I quit.”

Kate had already mentioned it, yet hearing her confirm it makes my whole body tense up. I’m happy that she stood up for herself, for her values. But I also know she doesn’t ever like to accept help from anyone, and that makes me sick with worry.

“I would offer sympathy, but you know best what’s good for you,” I say. “Not many would have the courage to do something like that. For the record, I’m extremely proud of you.”

Her cheek flush and she lets out a tired laugh.

“They didn’t leave me much of a choice. When they realized the article had gone viral, they called me in,” she explains. “Martha was furious. If it were up to her, I would’ve been fired over the phone.”

I frown. “Why didn’t she?”

“Because the board decided it was safer to keep me on payroll where they can control my silence rather than letting me walk and talk somewhere else,” she says, rolling her eyes.