35. Her Hunky Boyfriend
HER HUNKY BOYFRIEND
E mma rolled out of bed on Sunday at noon.
She would have liked to sleep later, but Warren was playing at one, and she always watched.
It was good timing that his game was away this weekend. If it was home, she wouldn’t have gone and been on TV while they talked about her mother.
For the most part, she’d been able to shut it off and go about her business in her written world.
Her sales were through the roof, her mini-series was getting crazy attention.
Roark joked that she could have gotten even more for the sale of the rights now.
He was probably right, but she didn’t want to ride her mother’s coattails either and it felt too much like that now.
Lucky followed her into the bathroom while she did her business and brushed her teeth. She found a pair of leggings and pulled them on, then a Patriots sweatshirt was yanked over the T-shirt she’d slept in.
She needed food before she decided when she’d get in the shower. She might not even do that. It’s not like she was seeing anyone anytime soon.
She had her first cup of coffee in her hand when her phone was ringing.
Crap, where the hell was it?
She stopped to listen and realized it was at least close by and saw it on the coffee table in the living room.
“Hi, Mom,” she said.
“Emma,” her mother said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be up in time for the game. You told me to call and get you out of bed.”
She’d forgotten she asked her mother to do that.
Not much good it would have done with her phone down here.
“Lucky jumped on me,” she said. “He’s the best alarm clock. Sort of. If he knew how to tell time.”
“As long as you’re up,” her mother said. “I haven’t heard much from you this week. Everything okay? You’re not going too nuts with the news?”
“It’s all good,” she said. “Busy. Thankfully my phone isn’t going off like yours is, but my email box is almost full.”
“It’s not like you’re dealing with most of it,” her mother said.
“No. I’m sure you’re not dealing with yours either.”
Her mother had a personal assistant for years.
“Never,” she said. “I’m getting a summary of what people are saying. I’ve reached back to some, but I can’t do it all. Ninety percent of it is positive. Mainly from women saying they understood why I did it. Some wished I’d come out long ago.”
“I knew that would happen,” she said. “We all told you to.”
“I know,” her mother said. “I was complacent to be anonymous.”
She burst out laughing. “You can’t be anonymous in this family, but I understand what you’re saying. I’m realizing more of that now dating Warren.”
Speaking of her hunky boyfriend, she picked up the remote and turned the TV on. She knew they’d put the camera on him and she’d get to look her fill.
It was easier to watch him on TV than live, but she’d never say that to him.
He liked her at his house when he got home. She had to admit she enjoyed it.
He even left her alone when he got home until she finished writing, then she would seek him out. It worked for them. Others might think it was odd.
But then she thought of what her mother was saying. It worked for her parents also.
“And if I went public at any other time in your life, you’d have to live with this. You and Roark. Not just the comparison of your writing, but being Steve Spencer’s daughter.”
“So you did it for your family?” she asked.
“I did it for a lot of reasons. It started out being as simple as I said in the interview,” her mother said.
“You know those things. They would have dismissed me as a woman writing thrillers back then. It’s sad but true.
Just like people would think it was odd a man would write romance.
That shouldn’t be the case, but you know as well as I do, that some readers wouldn’t buy a romance book written by a man. ”
Since romance was the majority of women readers, she knew that would be the case.
There would be a large population of women out there who would think men wouldn’t understand romance like them.
She didn’t think she believed that so much.
Look at her. She didn’t even know what love was until recently, yet she wrote about it all the time.
But assumptions were deceiving to the market.
“That’s true,” she said. “Wrong, but true.”
“And your sales are going through the roof,” her mother said. “I know it. Mine are jumping like crazy.”
“I figured yours would,” she said. “Women who hadn’t read your books before will buy them.”
“They will,” her mother said. “And people who have read my books are going to buy yours and compare.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know.”
“That is going to bother you,” her mother said. “There isn’t anything I can do about it. If I went public years ago the same thing would’ve happened. What I hope is that it doesn’t bring negative publicity down on you.”
She knew how social media could be and it had crossed her mind.
She’d even told Warren that two days ago when they talked.
He’d seemed distracted for some reason and she assumed it had to do with football.
The team was in first place and the talk that she followed was they were the favorite to go all the way.
“I don’t think that will happen,” Emma said. “But if it does, I’ll have to trash you for keeping that secret when I’ve never done it.”
Her mother was laughing on the other end of the phone. “I expect you will do that.”
“Never,” she said. “I get my talent from you.”
She wouldn’t throw her mother under the bus like that. Who the hell would do that to a parent?
“You do,” her mother said. “But you’ve got plenty on your own. We write differently. We aren’t even competing, though people are going to put it out there.”
“I know they will,” she said. “It is what it is.”
“How much is Warren being bugged over this?” her mother asked.
“A little,” she said. “He talked to Mike the night it came out and that was it. He isn’t posting anything on social media and neither am I. I know it will blow over and he has to focus on the game right now and it’s better that way.”
“Is everything okay?” her mother asked. “With the two of you?”
“Don’t tell me you’re believing the crap that was posted weeks ago.”
“No,” her mother said. There was humor in her mother’s voice. “Never. I’m asking as your mother.”
“I think everything is fine. It’s more about the time we are apart. I think it’s getting to him more than me. Is that horrible of me to feel that way?”
“You can’t change how you feel,” her mother said. “It doesn’t change your love for him, just that you don’t like to be around people as much.”
“I know,” she said. “And he understands that. Even when I was there last week for a few days, I did my thing and he was in the house. Then when I was done, I searched him out. It worked.”
“Then what is the problem?” her mother asked.
“I don’t think there is a problem. He hasn’t said anything to me if he thought there was one.”
“But you’re reading into the fact there might be?” her mother asked.
“You know, Mom. You’re making it hard for me to enjoy watching my hot boyfriend on TV with all these questions.”
“I’ll stop now,” her mother said. “I promise.”
“Thanks. I’m going to get some food and enjoy the game.”
“While you do other work,” her mother said.
“Yep. I only watch when the offense is on the field. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“You know I can keep a secret.”
She wiggled her shoulders some. “The world now knows how well you can.”
“I don’t care what the world thinks,” her mother said. “I only care about my family. That’s always who I’ve put first. You know that.”
“I do,” she said. “And I’m understanding it all more too.”
“Good,” her mother said. “Those are the things a parent wants to hear.”
“And you got to hear it from me,” she said. “I’m going to hang up and get some lunch. My fridge is full of fresh stuff still.”
“Because you’re going to the store more regularly since you’re out anyway,” her mother said. “I know how you operate.”
She laughed and hung up, then tossed the phone on the couch. It slid between the cushions, but thankfully she noticed and moved it. That would be a bitch to find when she wanted to talk to Warren later.
Once the fridge was open, she realized she didn’t want to cook anything and snagged a container of yogurt and then a banana. She could eat them on the couch while she watched TV.
When the kickoff came, Lucky was trying to stick his nose in her empty container and lick it clean. It probably wouldn’t hurt him and give him some dairy. Didn’t cats like milk? Kind of the same thing in her eyes.
The minute her cat knocked the empty container on the floor and was batting it around, she picked it up and brought it to the kitchen.
She wasn’t even gone a minute and Warren was coming on the field.
What had she missed? The Jets received first.
She rewound it quickly, saw the fumble and shrugged her shoulders, got on the edge of the couch, her hands gripping the cushions as Warren got the snap, fell back, couldn’t find a receiver open and ran. He had nowhere to go and ended up running out of bounds.
It went on like this for an hour.
Each team had a field goal.
Warren couldn’t connect with half his throws. Some he missed, others were dropped.
He almost fumbled once too.
It wasn’t like him to play like this.
Everyone had a bad day, but she’d never seen this before.
With a minute left in the first half, they were in the red zone, Warren faked the pass, saw an opening, and ran.
A defender caught him and was still on his feet, pushing closer and closer until he crossed the plane. She was just ready to jump up with her hands in the air when another defender came in, his shoulder down, and connected with Warren’s helmet.
The whistle blew, indicating a touchdown, but when the group that was holding Warren up moved away, he just dropped on the field like a rag doll.
She rushed to get in front of the TV and see what was going on, but everyone was crowding around him, players waving medical over and blocking the view.
“It appears as if Warren Showers is down on the field. We are going to take a break and be back soon with an update.”
Her hand was shaking. He was unconscious. She saw it and cutting to a break that quickly meant it wasn’t good. She grabbed her phone. “Egan,” she said.
“Meet me at the airstrip in thirty minutes,” Egan said. “I’ll get you to New Jersey.”