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I scooped the eggs that were over-easy onto a plate with sausage and toast and handed it to Emma as I picked up the paper. The article talked about Emma’s rise to fame and how the internet was all wondering if our rivalry would end in flames or passion. Then the author went on to talk about how we were absolutely falling into a passion.
“Who writes that anyway? And how did they get the picture?” Emma asked, obviously pissed about it. “It’s all over the internet too.”
“I guess they finally got their answer,” I joked, and she shot me a look. I couldn’t help but find enjoyment in her fiery expression. She was beautiful and I wanted to wake up with her every day.
“Yes, but why would someone publish that picture without our consent?” She asked, furiously tearing into the toast.
“Easy, tiger.” I walked over to her and stroked her cheek. “I guess this is just part of your new celebrity status.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Having a viral bakery doesn’t mean that I’m a celebrity. Though apparently, the paparazzi are after us.”
“Too bad you didn’t get to tell your followers yourself.” I kissed her on the forehead before turning to clean up the mess from cooking.
“Oh well. I’m sure Grady can just make this into more viral content.” She shrugged and seemed to give up her frustration about the article.
Once she finished, she announced that she was going to take a shower, so I used that time to go into my office room to do some paperwork. I typically neglected it until the last minute, so Jackson would surely appreciate that I was doing it ahead of time.
At my desk, I typed Emma’s name in to find that there were articles buzzed about our kiss picture, and I just shook my head. I was mad that someone took a picture of us like that, but more for Emma’s sake than mine. It had me spiraling and wondering if she would be safe now or if people would follow her. Because despite what she thought, she was technically a local celebrity now and had four hundred thousand followers on TikTok. I saved the picture to my computer before moving on to start working.
My phone started ringing before I could even open a new tab, and I saw my father’s name on it.
Odd, seeing as I hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.
I wasn’t a fan of my father, ever since he literally forced Emma and me apart. So when I moved inland, I rarely spoke to either of my parents and hadn’t even told them I moved back. They were very distant parents, never big on affection or caretaking. My nanny spent more time with me than either of them until I was old enough to just be home alone. I didn’t care about seeing them, so I didn’t think it mattered that they knew I lived on the island again.
“Dad,” I said as I picked up the call.
“Son, were you going to tell me that you lived on Amelia again and opened abakeryhere?” He went straight to business, which I could appreciate. At least there was no small talk.
“I didn’t think it was that important.” My voice was hollow and monotone, and I didn’t care.
“You think that your mother and I wouldn’t want to know that you moved back? Or that you were starting another business?”
“Again, I didn’t think it was that important. Was that all you called for?”
“No, son. I was calling because I saw you and the Sterling girl in the newspaper this morning. And I needed to know why you thought that was an appropriate thing for an Ackworth to do.” His tone dripped with venom, and my anger spiked.
“I’ll do whatever I please, Dad. I certainly won’t be taking your direction on anything, especially my relationship with Emma,” I growled, unwilling to discuss this further with him.
“Don’t be disrespectful, Liam. Our family will have nothing to do with Brian Sterling’s, and that’s final,” he challenged.
“What is your big problem with him anyway? You two used to be like brothers.” I needed to know, especially if I was going to be harassed about dating Emma.
“That fucker stole my signed Trout jersey.” His voice was entirely serious, but I could have laughed.
“Thatis what all of this was about? A baseball jersey?”
“Brian was always eyeing it and telling me how jealous he was, and it went missing. I just know he took it, but he would never admit it. We don’t associate with thieves, son.”
“Shit,” I muttered, barely holding in my laugh. “Dad, I’ve had that jersey since college. I didn’t know it was that big of a deal. Damn.”
I couldn’t believe that the last eight years of rivalry between our family and the Sterlings was over a baseball jersey. One that I had in a box in my closet. If. Would have known that was what this was all about, we could have avoided so many things.
“Are you kidding me?” Dad asked flatly, as if not believing me.
“Nope. It’s definitely in my closet right now.” I spun around, facing the window in my office. A pressure felt like it had been lifted off of my shoulders, knowing that this family feud could go away. That is, if Emma’s father would accept an apology for being called a thief and a liar all these years.
“Why would you take that jersey? I can’t believe—”
