10. Emma
10
Emma
Four days later, Ryan and I are sitting down with Phil in a huge office in the city.
I’ve never been chauffeured anywhere before, especially in a limousine, and I’m not ashamed to say that I quite enjoyed it. When I said that to Ryan in the elevator up to Phil’s office, he grinned and told me there’d be plenty more of that to come.
Phil is about forty, stocky, with a buzzcut, likely to cover the fact that his hair is receding at the top. Actually, he looks a bit like Happy out of Iron Man.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he says, shaking my hand. “Please, take a seat.”
Ryan and I sit down, and opening a large folder, Phil sits opposite us.
“Alright,” he begins. “So, your mom has fibromyalgia, isn’t that right?” Phil says, not looking up from the papers in front of him.
I gasp at his question and spin my head to look at Ryan, who looks more than a little coy.
My reaction catches Phil’s attention, and lifting his head to look at me, he straightens himself in the chair.
“You need to know something, Emma. Once you’re put there in the public eye, the media is going to dig up everything there is to know about you. Now, I can quash a lot of that from coming out, but if you have any skeletons in the closet, now would be the time to invite them to this meeting.”
“I don’t have any skeletons,” I cry. “And what the heck has my mother’s illness got to do with our fake marriage?”
“Because if I can find out, they can find out.”
A panic suddenly rushes over me, and I jump up from my chair. Spinning to look at Ryan, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. My family was never part of the deal.”
“Emma. Emma, please,” Phil says, his voice soft and calm. “It’s like I just said, I can quash stuff like this. There are ways and means to keep this out of the public eye. But I need you to be honest with me.”
“About what?”
“About anything I might not know,” Phil counters.
“And how am I supposed to know what you know?” I retort.
Phil then closes the folder and hands it to me. “That’s all the information I have.”
Snatching the folder from his hand, I walk away from them both and stop once I get to the window. The office looks down over the city street, where cars and people look tiny from this distance. Opening the folder, I scan my eyes over the pages.
Phil has collated my entire life into four pages. My age, name, family members, high school, the university I attended, the degrees I have, Mom’s illness, Dad’s death. Everything.
This was something Sharon, Debs, and I had overlooked, which now, as I think about it, was a little bit shortsighted. I mean, I read the news, and sometimes a fashion magazine when I have the time. We forget that, while we’re eager to learn about other people’s lives, we’re privileged to keep our own private.
It hadn’t occurred to me that marrying Ryan would put me and my family in the spotlight. Maybe I’m not as smart as Ryan thinks I am.
“We’re going to make this all about the wedding, Emma. What dress you’re wearing, who’s invited, what venue you’re choosing. They’ll be so busy wanting to know all those details, they won’t care about anything else.”
“You have to keep my family out of it,” I snarl, turning round to face them. “I’m not doing this if you can’t do that. My mom isn’t well. There’s no way she can cope with paparazzi landing at her door.”
“Alright.” Phil nods. “I can do that.”
“Are you sure?” I press. “If you’re lying, I’ll be gone, and you can find someone else.”
Phil looks at me and then casts his eyes to Ryan. “You weren’t joking, were you?”
Ryan shrugs and nods.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, moving back across the office.
Phil smiles up at me. “He told me you were smart, educated. A woman who knew how to handle herself. You’re going to have these guys eating out the palm of your hand.”
A little later, when I’ve calmed down and Phil has answered all the questions Ryan couldn’t, the meeting draws to a close.
“Just before we finish up,” Phil says, “I’ve amended the contract. Take a look at it and see if there’s anything in there you need me to change.”
He hands me the contract I put together, and while he and Ryan talk about some interview Phil’s set up, I quickly begin to read, but in the very first paragraph, there’s an amendment that makes my eyes widen.
No emotional attachment. This relationship is a facade meant to serve a mutual benefit. Developing feelings will only complicate the arrangement. This stipulation is pivotal for both parties to maintain clarity and prevent misunderstandings that could jeopardize their personal and professional lives.
Amendment: The mutual agreement is as follows. Emma Carter agrees to act as much as it is in her power to do so as Ryan Steele’s wife. In return, Ryan Steele agrees to compensate a hydro pool to both Emma’s clinic and her mother’s home. He will also place a hefty investment into Emma’s clinic to further business.
Okay . I’m stunned. One hydro pool would have been enough, but I’m currently blown away by the rest of it. I mean, sure, he can afford it. But I’m still shocked. I calm myself, though, and say nothing. I mean, what is there really to say? Instead, I carry on reading where there have been other small amendments and an expansion of points already written that make complete sense.
With the contracts signed and business with Phil completed, Ryan and I stand to leave. When farewells are done and we’re heading to the door, Phil says, “You’ve got a day to get used to this. After that, I’m leaking it to the press.”
“Thanks, Phil,” Ryan says, sounding the most grateful I’ve ever heard him.
“Good luck, kid.”
Two days later, Phil keeps his word, and when I walk past a store on my way to the clinic, Ryan and I are front page news.
“Oh, my Lord,” I gasp. I mean, I knew it was coming, but still.
There’s a picture of us together. It’s totally Photoshopped, of course—Phil took it when we were in his office—but it now looks like we’re walking down a street hand in hand. I mean, it’s scary how realistic it looks.
I’m still looking at the paper when Mandy Stone and Brenda Dingle, two women I went to high school with, stop beside me.
“Oh, my gosh,” Mandy gasps, gawking at the headline. “Is it true?” She turns to me. “Are you guys getting married?”
I’m not ready for her reaction. I should be, but I just didn’t think the questions were going to happen so soon.
“Er, yes,” I say with a nod. “Yes, Ryan and I are getting married.”
“Congratulations,” Brenda gushes, reaching out and squeezing my hand. “Oh, you guys are going to make such a cute couple, aren’t they, Mandy?”
“You are,” Mandy gushes beside her. “Oh, wait until I tell the girls.”
By the girls, she means the women she works with in the hair salon she runs. Which means the whole town will know by lunchtime.
“Thanks,” I say hurriedly. “I’ve got to go. Don’t want to be late.”
The women nod eagerly at me with great big smiles. I suppose I should be happy, right? So, as an afterthought, I pin a smile on my face. I’m pretty sure I now look like a serial killer, but hey, this is all new to me.
“Congratulations,” Sharon declares when I walk into the clinic.
I give her a look, and she laughs. “Hey, you’re the one who signed up for this circus. I tried to talk you out of it.”
“Something you’re no doubt going to continue to remind me when things get tough.”
“What are friends for?” Sharon quips back.
I begin slipping my coat off as I wander behind the desk. “I just got accosted in the street by Brenda and Mandy. I was so flummoxed that I didn’t know what to say.”
“The whole town will know soon enough, but at least you know these people. Just wait until the media gets here. You’re going to have far bigger problems then.”
“What?” I gawk.
Sharon stops typing on the keyboard and looks up at me like I’m dumb. And in this moment, maybe I am, because a strange sensation is pulsing through my body. I think it’s called terror.
“What did you think was going to happen, Emma? This is your and Ryan’s hometown. Of course, they’re going to come here.”
She’s right. I just didn’t consider it. Not once. Not when Ryan first asked; not when Debs, Sharon, and I were talking it out over two bottles of wine; not even when I was signing the renewed contract in Phil’s office. Sure, I knew there were going to be interviews and paparazzi, but in my head, that would all happen in the city. Not here in Maple Springs.
Too late now.
Or is it?
I’m in the treatment room when my internal line rings an hour and a half later.
“Your fake boyfriend is here,” Sharon drawls down the line.
I gasp at her bluntness but then hear Ryan chuckling. “It’s fiancé, actually.”
“Oh, yes,” my colleague says. “Your fake fiancé is here,” she corrects.
“You’re fired,” I snarl playfully.
I walk the short distance to reception and find the two of them laughing.
“You’re not funny,” I say, contradictorily struggling not to smile.
“I am a bit.” Sharon smirks, which seems to make Ryan laugh more.
Once we’re in the treatment room, Ryan pulls a small box out of his pocket. “So, I got you this,” he says, handing me the box. “It’s the first thing anyone’s going to ask to see, so I figured we should get it out of the way.”
When I flick the ring box open, I gasp. “Holy cow! Is that real?”
He doesn’t answer, and my stare goes from the stunning diamond to Ryan’s face. “Tell me that’s not real,” I press.
He shrugs and looks nonplussed. “I figured it needed to be, right? Aren’t there going to be people who’ll know the difference?” He nods to the box. “Put it on. I want to know if it fits.”
Tentatively, I lift the ring out of the box and slip it onto my finger.
“The other one,” Ryan says.
“What?”
“Your other hand,” he says.
I’m so nervous that I’ve put it on my right hand.
“Oh, right.”
“No, left,” he quips with a smirk.
Clearly, there’s something in the air today. The clinic’s full of comedians.
“Listen,” I say, admiring the ring on my finger because although our relationship is fake, I just can’t take my eyes off it. “I need to talk to you about the news people. They can’t come here to Maple Springs. They’ll overrun the town.”
“We don’t have a choice, Emma. For them to believe it’s real, they’ll have to come. We can maybe control how long they’re here, but we can’t stop them.”
My shoulders sink as I imagine what that’s going to look like. Maybe I really have bitten off more than I can chew.
“I have worse news,” he says, looking me dead in the eye. “Phil is really eager for us to be able to sell this. I haven’t been in a serious relationship in a while, and you’re not used to being under scrutiny, so he’s enrolled us in a crash course in romance.”
My eyes fly wide open. “What?!”