Page 26 of The Golden Scoop

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I answer. And once the words are out of my mouth, I realize I’m not as annoyed as I was before. I’m intrigued, which is deeply concerning. Once again, he’s baited me with mystery and I have succumbed. “On one condition…”

“Go on.”

“You have to start.”

His hand moves down to my waist and pulls me closer to him.

“You’ll be glad to know I’m willing to start anytime, honey.”

Olivia is taking the pizza out of the oven while I type up the quotes from the day. My younger sister attends UCLA, and we make it a weekly habit to have dinner together. She plops down next to me setting the plate between us on my living room floor.

“It’s fun that you finally get to do some writing instead of being behind the scenes,” she comments when I close my laptop to give her my full attention.

If not for the seven-year age difference, we’d probably be considered twins. She’s a copy of me when I was at university, except for the longer hair and fair skin. Olivia is the girly version—the kind that owns lip gloss and knows how to properly use contour—of my sporty self.

I’ve always felt guilty that they don’t know what I actually do for work. I wish I could be open with my family about it, but it was made very clear when I started no one—absolutely no one—outside the office could know.

And I already dropped the ball with Julia and Harrison.

As much as I trust my sister, I can’t take any more risks. Another reason I need this article to blow Martha’s mind. Once I’m out, I can come clean.

“Yeah, except for the fact that I have to be around him all the time.”

“Emma, you do realize literally anyone would kill to be in your position right now, right?” She rolls her eyes at me. “He was nothing but kind to me at the wedding. I don’t know how you can resist him.”

“Why does everyone keep insinuating I should get it on with him?”

I take a bite of my pizza, still in disbelief. She shrugs.

“The bickering.”

I scoff.

“Playfully and fun fits only so long, and then it’s too late, and you’re looking through divorce papers and arguing about the shared custody schedule of the family dog and who gets to keep the ugly wedding china.”

She’s about to answer when my phone rings with the Kim Possible text alert.

“Who is ‘My man?’” she says, grabbing it.

Shit. I forgot to change his contact information.

Too late now. I don’t even make a move for it. She likes to snoop as much as me and will put me in a chokehold to read what it says.

“Our first date is planned for tomorrow,” she says aloud, and then gasps.

“Calm down. It’s Matt.”

“YOU LITERALLY JUST SAID YOU WEREN’T INTERESTED!”

“I’m not. He saved himself like that on my phone. But it’s just work related, Liv.”

I snatch the phone and text him back.

It’s not a date.

“Dates are work now?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s an outing. It was the only way to get him to open up,” I explain. She motions for me to continue, her mouth full of cheese and pepperoni. “He’ll plan one, then it’ll be my turn.”