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Cliff directs the cameramen to take their places. With everyone positioned as before, Wes stands on the black cross—taped to the ground—and I follow his lead.
“And five... four... three... two...”
“Em, there isn’t a day that goes past that I don’t imagine you in my life...”
Chapter One
“There are signs everywhere you look.
You just need to ignore the bullshit
that clouds them.”
~ Emerson Chase
“What is it like to be the hottest couple on TV?”
I should have seen that question coming.
A frenzy that can only be described as pure madness.
My publicist, Nina, had warned us this would happen. The producers and network executives knew they would top the ratings with that episode.
Now everyone’s on a high, including me.
“We simply go on about our lives as if the cameras aren’t watching. Hottest? We honestly don’t think that of ourselves.” Wesley laughs, resting his hand comfortably on my thigh.
What a load of shit. I hold back the predictable eye-rolling as Wesley charms the reporter from Hot Entertainment News, the biggest entertainment program around the globe.
We’ve been asked this question numerous times, and each time Wesley lies through his teeth that labels aren’t important.
Let’s clarify—they aren’t important to me.
I couldn’t care less.
But Wesley has this desperate need to be number one in everything he does.
When we first met, his competitiveness was a major turn-on. Now, I simply ignore his immature behavior.
The proposal was filmed two months ago and aired only last night. We were under strict contractual obligations to not let it slip, which meant I was forced to keep that beautiful ring in my closet and not showcase it like a happy, newly engaged woman normally would. Aside from our parents and entourage of management, no one else knew.
But last night, at precisely 7:42 p.m. the world watched on, and social media blew up.
Many congratulatory messages from fellow actors and fans rolled in and then, the trolls started.
How dare I marry Wesley Rich?
Emerson Chase is nothing but an ugly, gold-digging whore wanting to tie him down and ruin his reputation.
I was also called, too fat. Too skinny. And, oh my God, I hate her hair!
I’ve heard and seen it all before.
Ignoring the nastiness and avoiding social media at all costs is on top of my list—that was until Wesley read the tweets to me late last night.
“Babe, check it out… this chick has Photoshopped you onto a cow’s body.”
I grabbed his cell to look at the photo. It was kinda funny, but it still hurt my feelings.
