After All(81)

"What person? You're his fake girlfriend, you can say anything, who cares."

But I do care. Because it makes me sound like the aforementioned jealous, petty bitch. And I have zero real claim to Emmett.

"I don't know. It's just … I don't trust her. I don't trust her relationship with him, I don't trust her intentions," I admit, as I gather up the long metal poker I got for marshmallow toasting.

"But you said it was her idea, this whole stunt."

"I know, it was. That's why it's so weird. Anyway, I guess it doesn't really matter."

"Why not?"

"Because eventually the contract will run out and we'll part ways."

"Alyssa … you know it doesn't have to be that way. Stop pretending you don't have feelings for the man. It's obvious."

Ugh. Is it really? I hate that it is.

"Is it obvious to Emmett?"

"I don't know," she says with a shrug. "Men are so dense sometimes."

"Sometimes or always?"

"You know, you could just have an actual conversation with Emmett about all this."

"I do have conversations with him."

"I meant about your actual, real relationship. How you feel." 

"Well, that has come up once."

"And?"

"And I told him he was a player and he owned up to it. He didn't deny it. I said I didn't want to have feelings for him because he would just hurt me in the end and he fucking agreed with me!"

She holds out her palm. "Wait. How long ago was this?"

"I don't know, three weeks ago?"

"And is it possible you both feel differently now than you did a few weeks ago?"

God, yes. Every single feeling I have about him has been driven in deep, embedded into my skin and bones.

"Maybe," I warily admit.

"And could it be because you brought up the fact that you didn't want to have feelings for him because of the way you say he is, that he just agreed with you to save face."

Ah. Shit.

"Maaaaaaaybe."

"I bet that's what it is. No one wants to hear that another person doesn't want to develop feelings for them. Alyssa, that's harsh."

"I'm prickly," I say feebly by way of explanation. "And he's a man who has probably been in my shoes a million times and he can take it."

"Just because you see Emmett as a player and a man doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings himself. That's all."

I close my eyes and exhale. Could that be right? Could he have just said all that because he thought it was pointless to argue with me? Because he didn't want to be the one saying, please feel something for me?

Who knows.

"Man. This shit gets more confusing day by day," I tell her.

"No kidding. I honestly don't know how you do it. Why you even agreed to this ridiculous contract to begin with."

"Right. Well here's the thing." I take in a deep breath. "I haven't been exactly honest with you."

Her frown deepens in the shadows. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I say as I fish out a marshmallow and stick it on the end of the poker, "the whole fake relationship thing with Emmett? There was an incentive to go along with it."

"What kind of incentive?"

"Money. Lots of money."

Her brows raise. I lance the stick into the fire and sparks dance into the air.

"How much?"

"Forty thousand."

She blinks at me for a moment and then lets out a dry laugh. "Wow. Okay. Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Two reasons. I didn't want you to think I was, like, a whore or something."

"But you were paid to date Emmett for publicity, not sex. Right?"

"Yes of course. But still. It was hard to explain." I rotate the stick when one side gets perfectly charred.

"And the other reason?"

"I wanted the money so that I could quit Mad Men Studios." I glance at her. "Please don't tell Will that. You can't. You have to promise."

"I won't tell him," she says after a beat. Her eyes look sincere in the fire light and I know she'll keep it secret, even though I'm sure that's the last thing she wants to do this early on in her marriage.

"I promise I'll let him and your father know soon. I'm just waiting for the right time."

She nods, chewing on her lip for a moment. "Honestly, I'm not surprised. And Will won't be either. He's told me on more than one occasion that you're too good for the job, that you're not being challenged. I'm sure my father feels the same way too. But … what are you going to do instead?"

I hesitate for a moment, bringing the marshmallow out of the fire and blowing out the flames. "Don't judge but … acting."


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