16. Emma
SIXTEEN
Emma
Before today, I would’ve told you my twenty-dollar bedsheets at home were perfectly fine. Nothing like sleeping in Egyptian cotton to ruin my nights for the foreseeable future.
I reach for my laptop without slipping out from under the covers.
It’s not until room service knocks at ten that I, begrudgingly, leave the comfort of the mattress for the first time.
I consider yelling at them that they got the wrong room, but I don’t think that’s acceptable for a hotel with this much class.
“Good morning,” I say, offering the uniformed man a smile. “I didn’t order anything.”
“Good morning, miss. Mr. Hunt took the liberty of sending you some food.” He hands me a note on stationery paper.
“Oh. Okay. You can leave it right there.”
He rolls the cart in and sets the tray on the living room table. I rummage around my bag, praying I have some cash in my wallet. Bills never seem to last long in there, so I’m relieved when I find a crumpled twenty tucked at the bottom.
I don’t know if it’s enough, but it’s all I have.
“Thank you, Aaron,” I say, reading his tag.
“Enjoy,” he says before taking his cart and leaving for his next duty.
I lift the silver cloche to find not one but two Egg McMuffins. On the side: orange juice, a proper takeout coffee that’s not from the hotel, and a bowl of fruit.
Fuel for the day. Can’t wait to see you. M.
My mouth waters. I grab the tray, get back into bed, and pull out my phone.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say when he picks up.
“Morning, honey. Slept well?” Matt says, that familiar edge of charm slipping back into his voice.
“Wonderful. Did you walk the entire city to get me breakfast?”
“I went for a run. That’s the best coffee in New York,” he answers.
“I’m surprised you didn’t deliver it yourself,” I tease.
“Did you want me to?”
My throat tightens for a second. It would’ve served for an interesting morning, that’s for sure.
“I guess you’ll never know.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“It’s fun,” I argue.
“It’s dangerous,” he replies.
There’s something exciting about playing with fire. Especially when it’s just teasing. But nothing feels like a joke anymore.
“I’ll see you tonight?” I deflect.
Matt laughs, probably content he won this round.
“Meet you at the Club Lounge when you’re ready.”
There’s another knock on the door at two sharp. Before I can decide if I should be impressed or nervous about their punctuality, there’s another one. Insistent this time.
“Miss Miller, we’re from S&S. I’m Omar. We’ll be prepping you for tonight’s fundraiser,” he says, extending his hand with practiced confidence.
“Emma, please,” I answer, shaking it. “What’s S&S?”
“Silk and Signature. We handle in-house fashion and makeup services for upscale clients like Mr. Hunt when they’re in town.”
I step aside to let them in.
“Ah. Got it.”
Thank God I tidied and showered before they showed up. The team looks like they mean business. A friendly, yet hostile, takeover. This is Matt’s world, and right about now I’m wishing I’d been trained on how to act.
“Would you like some champagne?” he asks.
I shake my head. Alcohol hypes me up, and I don’t need any of that if I’m trying to seem classy.
“Don’t be shy to ask. Anything you need. We’ll be good-to-go in a few minutes.”
The door is my shield, as I watch them move around like a flock of birds. Controlled chaos I’m not qualified to interrupt. I might as well be a piece of furniture myself.
This is… a lot.
An SOS message sits in Matt’s text thread, just in case. Then I remember Julia’s been through this a million times by now. She’s an expert.
So… don’t ask me how I got here, but I need your advice.
I’m in New York, spent the night at the Ritz. Glam squad just arrived and there’s about three trillion people in my room. Am I supposed to do anything special?
Julia
Emma, what the hell?
Is this for work?
Sort of?
It’s for Matt. I’m his date for a gala.
Julia
No way! I’m telling Josh right now.
You know, we’re in our honeymoon but you guys have been awfully quiet, and now I don’t know if I should be good stressing or bad stressing!!!
I’ve purposefully tried not to bother you.
No stressing needed. We’ve not killed each other yet.
Julia
So… how’s the sex?
A gasp escapes me, nearly dropping my phone like it’s evidence. Not a question I needed while surrounded by a dozen strangers whose uniforms are more luxurious than my whole wardrobe. I take advantage of the fact that they’re setting up to excuse myself into the bathroom.
Nonexistent!
I’m here for work.
Julia
Are you sure that’s all it is?
It’s been two weeks and you haven’t complained.
At all.
Tough question.
My phone rings almost instantly.
“Care to explain?”
I groan. How do I explain we’ve been going on fake dates for the past two weeks and that we’ve both kind of admitted we don’t hate each other as much as I thought? That it started as work and now I can’t tell where that line is anymore?
“Matt’s not who I thought he was,” I mumble. “It’s inconvenient.”
“No surprise there. How did you get to this conclusion?”
“It wasn’t hard. Matt’s been intent on showing me everything I assumed about him is all an act,” I say, trying to make it sound logical when it absolutely isn’t.
“Then he started planning these ‘outings.’ He took me sailing, threw me overboard—only to jump straight in to save me. Things started getting weird, so I ran the opposite direction and went out with Tom instead.”
“Who’s Tom?”
“Guy from work. Matt showed up to the same restaurant, at the same time. When I confronted him, he said he was jealous—”
“Josh owes me fifty bucks.”
“You’re betting on my love life?!”
“Not exactly. We bet on how long it would take Matt to come clean about the massive crush he has on you.”
“Technically, he still hasn’t,” I say, immediately regretting how that sounds.
There’s a tap on the bathroom door.
“Miss Miller? We’re ready for you.”
“Wait. What about your feelings?” she asks.
My reflection in the mirror goes still, waiting for the answer.
“I don’t know, Jay. Did you know he speaks, like, five languages? He went surfing with me,” I blurt. “But how can I trust there’s not like… another Matt I don’t know about?”
“You know my struggles with trust. There’s nothing I can say to you that you haven’t said to me already,” Julia says. “But Em, I’ve never seen anyone look at you the way he does.”
My instinct is to argue with that. I don’t.
“Miss Miller!”
“They’re going to break this door down.”
“Kiss him.”
“What?! That’s your advice?”
“Who knows? A lot can be revealed with a kiss.”
“Fucking hell.”
Terrible idea. Why am I considering it?
“Keep me updated. Send pictures. Say yes to all the minions, they know best. Good luck!”
“Alright. Love you, Jay. See you soon!”
Okay. Fake it until I emotionally collapse, I guess.
I tuck my phone into the pocket of my jeans and brave whatever it is that my life is turning into.
The elevator ride to the Club Lounge is too short. I trace my hands down the side of the dress and turn to the mirror to adjust the neckline. Clothes usually don’t move me, but this piece has won me over. Confidence included.
We’ve gone with an emerald satin gown. Apparently, black, my safe option, is too predictable. Omar insisted I lean into my assets. I said no. He said trust. I hate that he was right.
My eyes match the soft material. The draped neckline and the open back, held by delicate straps, make my skin look like I’ve just returned from being a plus one in Julia’s honeymoon. In reality, it’s old sunburn and questionable life choices, strategically concealed with makeup.
Cinched at the waist, with a low slit that proves that, despite not being the tallest of the bunch, I do in fact have nice legs. The gold stilettos help. I feel like a performance ready to happen.
My makeup is simple: bronzed glow and nude lips. They managed to get my hair into a soft bun that looks both classy and sexy at the same time.
For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m trying to be confident. I just am.
As the doors open to the lounge, I decide that even if anything embarrassing happens tonight, at least I look incredible. That, and I’m keeping this outfit. He can consider it payment.
I spot Matt immediately. He’s in a full tux, looking better than he did at the wedding. Though I didn’t think it was possible, he’s here to prove me wrong.
He’s sipping on some brown liquor when his eyes meet mine at his hand freezes midair.
My steps are small, giving him time to set the glass down and stand. He moves his pointer finger around, asking for a show.
My cheeks heat up with the attention, but I give him a slow twirl. When our eyes meet again, his jaw has dropped and his hand has come up to clutch his chest.
“You look…” he says, with a small shake of his head. “I have no words.”
“I thought I told you to work on your compliment game,” I tease with a laugh.
The more he looks me over, the better I feel. I shouldn’t care this much about a man’s reaction. But his… I’m enjoying it.
“I was an idiot.”
Matt reaches out but stops himself before he gets to my waist.
I almost wish he wouldn’t.
“Still are…”
He raises an eyebrow, and a grin that means trouble takes over his face.
“Let me put it this way. You already look incredibly beautiful in your overalls. Messy hair. That salty, ocean breeze you seem to carry with you,” he says, voice lower than before.
He closes the gap between us, our chests brushing.
Then, he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“Tonight, you’re glowing. You’re so beautiful. You have no idea what you do to me, Emma.”
“Yeah?” I ask. Barely.
“Yeah. You don’t want to know. Can’t handle it.”
I snort. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Are you asking because you don’t believe me, or because you think you could handle it?”
Given how I’ve been around him lately, I’m not sure I could. That’s the problem.
“Don’t we have places to be?” I deflect, pushing him away gently.
He lets me. Too easily.
“We do.” He nods, composing himself. “Thank you for being my date.”
“Work date,” I correct.