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“I’ll leave it with you.” Emerson laughs. “Then the week after next, we have Vancouver. Are you all right to join me on that trip along with New York?”
“Of co
urse,” I tell her, guilt flooding me that I’m lying to her about Wesley.
I know there’s a time and place to admit the truth, and now is not that time.
Although Wesley and I agree to be in a relationship, we’ve barely spoken about anything aside from our exchange of words during sex. I’d be lying if I don’t admit that what I read online piques my curiosity or that woman from last night. After meeting his mother, Gina, I don’t quite understand the dynamic of their relationship. Again, questions linger and need some sort of answer.
And then there’s the possibility that our relationship will leak out to the public. So far, paparazzi haven’t followed me anywhere. Wesley has warned me how cunning they can be and to always be on guard for many of the things that come attached to the name Wesley Rich.
Emerson continues to tell us about a few more events, meetings, and upcoming trips she has planned for the next few months. I take a sip of my coffee, welcoming the warm liquid while waiting impatiently for it to kick in and give me that much-needed boost.
Last night took it all out of me. So far, during this meeting, I’ve been able to manage somehow to hold in every single yawn. I have no doubt I will sleep like a baby tonight and welcome the solace to gain some perspective on the last twenty-four hours.
The day drags on and every minute becomes harder to get through. Emerson has a ton of energy today, bouncing ideas and demanding some input. It’s great, I shouldn’t complain, but the exhaustion becomes too much, and by the time we call it a day I want to cry with relief.
“Oh, one more thing,” she says while grabbing her keys. “I have a meeting with Wesley tomorrow. I would prefer it if you don’t mention anything to Logan. It’s best I keep it on the down-low.”
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.
