After All(40)

I nod politely but the truth is I'm already imagining my escape route.

"Now, onto other business. What in sweet hell is going on with you and Emmett Hill?"

"Why, what does it look like?" I ask innocently.

He points his finger at me. "I warned him to stay away from you."

"I think that only spurred him on."

"Alyssa. Are you serious about him? The last two days I've been reading about it everywhere. You even went to dinner with him last night. I saw the photos."

I give him a small smile, finding it easier than I thought it would be to play this part. "A real lady doesn't kiss and tell." I get to my feet. "And I'm not about to give you the inside scoop. For all I know, you're the one who took the pictures at the wedding and sold it to Perez, since you have such a boner for him."

"I do not have a … " he cries out and then gives me a stern look. "That is not an appropriate way to talk to your boss."

"Good thing I don't have an appropriate boss. Can we drop it now?"

"Fine," he says in a huff, like a child who hasn't gotten his way. "But seriously, Alyssa. You're a bright, smart, pretty young girl. Please don't expect anything serious with Emmett. I've got to know him well enough over the years and while I like him, the man has some serious issues."

"You can say that again," I say under my breath as I head to the door.

"I mean it," Ted says and when I glance at him, he's morphed into dad mode. "If you expect anything serious from him, you're just going to get hurt. And I don't want to have to come into work to find you crying at your desk, day after day. Okay?"

"I'm a big girl, Mr. Phillips," I tell him and open the door with sassy flourish. "I can take care of myself."

If only he knew the truth about the two of us. A one-night stand turned into a lie of epic proportions.



* * *



I don't know how I got through the rest of the day but somehow time still passed and placed me back at home, frantically tearing through my closet, looking for something to wear. I mean, now I have to think like a celebrity and I can't get caught wearing the same outfit twice.

Or maybe I can because I'm just a normal girl and that's why the media is running with this, because I am the type of person–you know, normal–who would wear a repeat outfit.

Argh. I can't decide. I've literally tried on everything I own and everything comes across as either too revealing or too dowdy. Plus, it's growing hotter as the day goes on, which is effectively ruining my makeup job, going from looking like I'm not making an effort (but really am) to just looking like I'm not making an effort. There's a big difference between the glow of a highlighter and an oil slick of sweat.

I can't even borrow Carla's clothes because she's two sizes smaller than me and even after I lost some weight, my hips remain their stubborn size. Stupid bones. Forget child-bearing hips, mine can birth a whole heifer.

In the end, I decide to slip on a red sundress and sandals. The color is flashy but I know it suits me and the neckline is fairly modest. The only dilemma now is whether I should wear my shorts or not. Yes, shorts. Not just for unexpected breezes but to protect against chub rub. My thighs are gapless and if there's a lot of walking, they can create enough friction to start a fire.


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Normally, I wouldn't wear them on a date, particularly if I was feeling lucky. They don't seem to have the Bridget Jones' granny panty effect, wherein wearing them increases my chances of having sex. Instead, they just turn into awkward conversation when you're trying to get naked. You know, let me take off my sexy bra and also these shorts that I have to wear so that my ample thighs don't incinerate me on the spot. Yeah, super sexy.

But Emmett is texting me that he's waiting outside, so I opt to wear them, thinking it will remind me to not have sex with him, no matter what happens.

It isn't until I'm stepping out into the kitchen that I remember Bridget Jones wore her granny panties for the exact same reason. And look what happened. She slept with sleazy Hugh Grant and her whole life got turned upside down.

I suppose it's a little too late for that.

"You look hot," Carla says as she stands by the oven, munching on a cookie. "Hot with a W. Like hawt. Which means really hot. Speaking of hot, it's really hot today. Or maybe it's this oven. Hey, want a cookie?"

I eye her and the cookies. I've learned my lesson with her baking many times before.

"What kind of cookies are they?" I ask suspiciously.