Page 124 of Blitzing Emily

Emily closed her eyes. “I have no idea. Maybe you could suggest something.”

“Screw the flowers.” Her sister’s voice was fierce. “What are you writing on the card?”

“How about ‘Good luck on Sunday’?”

Amy let out a long sigh. “How about, ‘I’m sorry. I still love you. I’m so proud of you. I will never doubt you again.’?”

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel Emily was staying at. She handed the fare over the seat, grabbed her bag, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“Amy, let’s just go with ‘Good luck on Sunday.’”

“Fine.” Amy’s tone made it obvious her sister’s suggestion was anything but. “You’re making a huge mistake.”

Emily stepped into the revolving door at the hotel’s entrance. “I make lots of them, all the time. Let’s do this.” She thought for a moment. “I know he really likes wildflowers. Please charge my card.”

“I’ll make sure he gets them,” Amy said. “Are you excited to sing tomorrow?”

Emily was at the elevator banks. She knew she’d lose Amy if she stepped on, so she leaned against the surrounding wall. She swallowed hard. “No. I wish I was.” She rubbed her free hand over her face. “I have to go, Ame. Thank you so much. I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone.

BRANDON PUNCHED THEhotel pillow again and flipped onto his back. The digital clock radio at his bedside read 2:17AM.He’d been glancing at it for the past three hours and seventeen minutes. He wondered if he’d be looking at it for the next four hours or so. His wake-up call was at sevenAM.It was Super Bowl Sunday, otherwise known as the biggest day of his life.

He’d spent some time tonight reliving a kaleidoscope of images in his mind—his Pee Wee/middle school/high school/college football coaches’ motivational speeches. The day he got a recruitment visit from the only college he wanted to play for. The tears his mama cried when he packed his bags and went off to school. What it felt like to run out onto the field for the first time at LSU. More tears from his mama as he stood on-stage at Radio City Music Hall with the NFL commissioner as a first-round draft pick. Signing his first pro football contract, and signing a new one two years later. Of all his memories, though, the ones he replayed most in his whirling thoughts involved a curvy redhead he called Sugar.

He remembered the first time he saw her sweet, sleepy smile from the pillow next to him. The first time he held her hand. The first time he kissed her. She tasted so good, he went back for more. The first time he coaxed her out of her clothes. The first time he saw love for him in her eyes. He knew how much her career and her goals meant to her. When he’d needed her, though—and was too pigheaded to admit it—she was there. She’d dropped everything for him, and she’d done it more than once. He glanced over at the computer desk in the dimness of his hotel room. She sent flowers yesterday. He’d read the note a hundred times already.

Brandon, I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so proud of you. I will never give up on us. XO

Amy didn’t answer his text asking for Emily’s information. If it wasn’t 2:17AMin New York City, he would call every hotel in Manhattan till he found her. It was the most important day of his life, and the emptiest. She wasn’t here to share it with him.

EMILY’S STOMACH WASin knots as she awoke Sunday morning. She lay in bed and wondered if Brandon was lying awake in his hotel room, too. This was the most important day of his life. Amy was right, and the realization was bitter: She should be there for him, watching him achieve his biggest dream. Flowers weren’t enough for something like this.

She forced herself out of bed, showered, and dressed in casual clothing. She threw herself into the backseat of another cab less than an hour later. She needed the quiet of her dressing room, the routine she’d been through so many times before.

The security guard on duty at the artists’ entrance grinned as she approached. “Miss Hamilton. Your performance isn’t for hours.”

She nodded. “I couldn’t wait.”

He pulled the door open for her. “Let me show you to your dressing room.” They walked down the silent, darkened hallway. He unlocked her dressing room door. “Break a leg, miss.”

Emily extended her hand to shake his. “Thank you so much.”

“The building is secured, but lock the door behind me,” he said. She heard his footsteps receding down the hallway.

She warmed up her voice. She pulled the makeup she needed out of her bag. She checked to make sure Musette’s full-skirted costume was complete. The wig Emily would wear sat on a form on another table. Her thoughts, though, were twelve hundred miles away. Those damn flowers, and that damn card. She had Amy write ‘Best of luck on Sunday’? “Lame,” she said to herself. “Totally lame.”

Maybe she should have told him how she really felt, but there wasn’t a flower enclosure card big enough for that. She remembered the sweet cards Brandon had written that came with all the flowers he’d ever sent her, and that was the best she could do?

Emily sank onto the couch against one wall, and wondered what she was doing there. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to be where she was. She was alone on the biggest day of her career so far. She would spend the future alone, too, unless she took her courage in her hands and told Brandon what she’d known for months now: She loved him, and she always would.

Even if he didn’t love her, even if he sent her away, she would say what was in her heart. She’d screwed up horribly. She had to apologize, and this time she had to put the diva—and her temper—aside for a little while. The dream she’d been working toward for so many years didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the rest of her life. If Brandon wasn’t in it, no matter what she attained in her career, she’d never be truly happy again.

She pulled the cell phone from her bag and hit David’s number.

“Hey, Emily.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Big day for you.” She could hear people chattering all around him in the background.

“David, I have to go to Miami. I’m going to Brandon’s game.” There was silence for a moment. “You’re still there, aren’t you?”

She heard David’s sigh. “Do you have a flight yet?”

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