After All(91)

I put my hand on her chest and push her back. I fall back against the trailer and raise my head.

She's staring at me, enraged under the dim lights of the parking lot. "What's wrong with me, Emmett?" she asks. "What is it?"

I don't know what to say. I try and swallow. "I'm flattered."

Oh, she doesn't like that. "Flattered?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm very flattered you tried to kiss me and you like me but it's not mutual. Nope. I'm with Alyssa and you're not Alyssa and I'm sorry but … "

"That's a fake relationship Emmett," she snipes harshly.

"It isn't. I don't think it ever was," I admit. "I love her."


      ///
       
         
       
        

"You don't know love," she says. "That's not who you are."

I flinch. "I'm sorry. I don't think … I need to go home."

"Emmett," she warns.

I start walking off and when she tries to grab a hold of me, I push her off.

"Emmett!" she yells after me.

I manage to get my phone out of my pocket and dial a cab before I lose all capability.

Then I stumble out of the studio, skipping my goodbye party and leaving my publicist behind. I need to be alone. I need to sober up.

Then I need to tell Alyssa exactly what happened.



* * *



I wake up to a knock at my door.

I think I've been listening to it for a long time but I thought it was my heart pounding in my head.

My mouth feels like I've swallowed sawdust.

I am in bad shape.

Gingerly I roll over and groan. My curtains are closed and soft light is filtering in through the cracks. I have no idea at all what time it is.

I reach over and pick up my phone.

It's dead. Figures.

I take in a deep breath, trying to bring feeling back into my body.

Fucking hell. What did I drink last night?

Oh yeah.

Oh … fuck.

It all comes rushing back.

What a mess.

The knock at the door again. Louder this time.

Pounding, actually.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That's never a good sign.

I get out of bed and pull on a pair of jogging pants as I head over to the door.

I look through the peephole.

It's Alyssa. She's looking down at her phone.

I quickly swing open the door.

"Hey," I say to her, squinting at the light. Even though it's cloudy, it still hurts my eyes. "My phone's been dead, I–"

And then I see her eyes.

She's been crying.

She also looks like she wants to slice my head clean off.

"What happened?" I ask, immediately fearful.

She tries to swallow, her jawline growing tight. "How could you?" she whispers, her words caught in her throat, her red-rimmed eyes filled with pain. "How could you do this to me?"

I blink at her. "What?"

I wish I could think faster, that my hangover didn't have a hold on me.

Autumn. Is it Autumn?

Does she know that Autumn kissed me? But how?

"Come in," I tell her, gesturing to the house. "Please. Let's talk."

She hesitates. She's almost afraid. It's now that I realize she looks like she just crawled out of bed. She's in her pajama pants, flip flops, an oversized Mad Men Studios hoodie. She's got no makeup on, her hair is a mess. She's so completely vulnerable, fragile yet brimming with so much animosity that I'm not sure how to handle her, what to do. 

"Please tell me what happened," I say.

At that her eyes narrow. "I can't believe you," she mutters bitterly.

But at least she walks inside.

I quickly shut the door as she walks into the middle of the room, looks around.

"What are you looking for?" I ask her.

"Is she here?"

I run my hands down my face and sigh. "Is who here?"

"Autumn."

I give my head a slight shake, knowing I have to tread carefully now. "No, Alyssa. She's not. Why would you think she's here?"

She sniffs, her face crumpling. "How could you do this to me?"

"Baby, please … "

"Don't baby me!" she cries out, back to vicious. "Don't play dumb!"

"I just woke up, Alyssa! I don't know what you're talking about."

"You haven't seen your emails?" she asks, nearly breathless.

Now I'm extra worried. "No. Phone is dead. Why? What … ?"

She folds her arms across her chest. "Go and look. I'll wait."

It feels like my heartbeat is doubling up as I stride across the room and pull out my MacBook from the shelf. I bring it over to the kitchen island beside her and open it, then open my emails.

There's an email there from a name, Kristoff Gantz, no subject but an attachment.