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Suddenly, my exhaustion disappears, and I’m alert as
anything. “Why… I mean, you don’t have to go. I know you’re busy and all. Let me do this. I can take care of it… it’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
Emerson’s lips curl up in a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have thrown Wesley onto you in the first place. He’s my mess, and besides, I just want to talk to him about a few private things.”
Logan’s warning echoes in my head, but more notably my unbeknown jealousy even louder.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Logan might get angry.”
“I can deal with Logan. I’m more worried about Wesley,” she tells me, obviously hiding something.
“I mean, I’m just saying as a friend more than your assistant, I’m here. Don’t feel like you’re burdening me.”
She places her hand on mine in an attempt to calm my anxiety. “Milana, I got this. Relax.”
I have no words left without giving away my take on Emerson and Wesley being alone together.
I don’t like it.
The thought makes me ill.
I’ve been his girlfriend for two seconds, and somehow that’s turning me into this jealous beast. Women back home would often make advances at Liam while he worked on their cars, and I barely batted a damn eyelash.
But this, this is something else.
We say our goodbyes, and the second I’m alone in the car, I read through the messages from Wesley.
Wesley: Miss me yet?
Wesley: I can still smell you on my fingers.
Wesley: Ready for round 3? Wait… or maybe it’s round 10?
I smile, unthinkingly, unable to contain the small amount of joy that creeps in when I read the texts. Though halfway through a text I’m writing—encouraging his flirty behavior—my conversation with Emerson comes back to me like a tsunami reminding me of this so-called ‘meeting’ tomorrow.
Resting my head against the driver’s seat, I close my eyes for a brief moment. The conversation between Phoebe and me replays in my head, over and over. We rarely argue. Only over petty things like the time she borrowed my favorite sweater and claimed the underarm pulled before I lent it to her. Or the time she made me watch a midnight session of one of those Twilight movies only for me to fall asleep in the first scene.
Both times, we were mad at each other. The difference was, we made up within an hour.
It’s impossible to be mad at Phoebe, yet this time is different. We’re miles apart. She said words that can’t easily be forgiven, and she said I’d changed.
I don’t understand her defending Liam and making such a false statement on how much I have changed. I’m living life the only way I know how. Okay, so maybe I have to toughen up a bit, the LA crowd is sometimes heartless and unforgiving. You make one mistake, and it spreads like fire. As far as my job’s concerned, I seem to be doing fine. Emerson often compliments my organizational skills and talent to retain information.
And then there’s Wesley.
He’s not like any boyfriend I’ve had—dangerously smart and equally as sexy. Something about him excites me, allows me to live on the edge if only for this one moment. And then, out of the blue, I think about Mama.
I dial her number, realizing I haven’t called her in a few days.
“Milly, is that you?”
“Yes, Mama,” I croak.
The exhaustion, coupled with missing her, brings a tear to my eye. I manage to hold it back, widening my eyes in a failed attempt.
“I was wondering where you’ve been. Flynn says you’ve been busy with work. You know, Milly, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Work has been busy, Mama…” I pause, letting out a sigh. “So, what else has Flynn told you?”
