Page 65 of Things I Overshared
Emerson turns toward the exit, and I grab on to his forearm again. His warm skin tightens underneath me, but he doesn’t shake me off.Take my hand. Slip my grip down and hold my hand, Emerson!But he doesn’t.
Then I remember as we climb into the car, Emerson can’t really play pretend boyfriend to me because he’s the real boyfriend to someone else. Another smash to the hope that has turned solid and heavy in my heart. I decide to do what I do best: deflect with words.
“Is that how you treat Miranda? Bit cold and rigid, not your best boyfriend act, I don’t think,” I tease as we get in the car. He glares over at me. “I mean, thank you for saving me, really, things were going south fast, but I just don’t think that was an Oscar-worthy performance.” He is still staring at me with a fervor that makes my thighs clench together. “Or, if it was your best, maybe Miranda is not the lucky girl I thought she was.” I smile as I say it, clearly trying to rile him.
He sighs, then he grunts out, haltingly as always, “Miranda is just a friend.”
I decide to pile on. “Ohhhhh,thatkind of friend. I see, I see. So no hand-holding, but there’s some holding going on.” I wag my eyebrows. He shakes his head and looks out the window. I put on my best Scarlett O’Hara: “I do declare, Mr. Clark, are you blushing right now? I say, I believe you are!”
I thought I’d get a smile, but I don’t. He seems genuinely upset. By tonight? By the drama earlier today? I can’t tell, and I want to ask, but I won’t in front of Charlie. I’ve put that poor man through enough.
“Not going to tease me about my accents?”
He barely shakes his head, acknowledging me as little as possible. My turn to sigh. Why is he so tense? I didn’t ask him to swoop in and save me, either time! I don’t need him being all chivalrous and freaking dashing. Yes, we’re in England and he is downright dashing. That’s the perfect word for him. I’m still annoyed, especially that he’s annoyed, but I’m also beaming so much, it’s hard to hide.
Because Emerson Clark doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Chapter 19
Emerson’s demeanor gets colder as we get closer to the hotel, through the lobby, up in the elevator, and finally through our door. He starts to make his signature mad dash for his bedroom.
“Are you mad at me?” My voice is loud in the silence.
He stops and turns around. He doesn’t answer, but his jaw twitches and his eyes squint the tiniest bit.
“I mean, I didn’t mean to fall into the ocean, obviously, and I don’t know if I’ve said thank you enough for that . . . but really, it was very knight-in-soaking-wet-armor of you. Dashing, really. I’ve never used that word before, but I do think that. That you’re dashing, I mean.”
I shake my head. “But! I didn’t ask you to come along with us tonight because I knew you’d hate it—you didn’t want me to invite you, did you? And I didn’t ask you to come rescue me tonight, although I’m really, really glad you did. Honestly, after everything, I should just never go out again ever, but the promise of a fun night out with people is like my siren’s song, I guess, just calling to me over and over—”
“What happened?” He cuts me off. “Why, why did you delete all your social media, all your apps?”
“Oh.” Crap! I do not want to talk about this with anyone, let alone Hottie McSavior over there.Hottie McSavior? Oh. I am so screwed.I fumble with the hem of my tank top. “Um, it wasn’t a huge thing, really.”
“Samantha.” He says my name like a command, but a kind one, an order that’s soft around the edges. I snap my head up and meet his burning ice-blue eyes.
“W-Why do you want to know?”
“You keep mentioning it.”
“Oh, okay.” I let out a fake chuckle. “Well, uh, sorry. I’ll stop doing that then. I—”
“Damn it, Samantha, what happened to you?” he almost yells, and I jump. I’ve never seen such raw emotion from him.
“I was blackmailed!” I blurt. I hope maybe I can get away with just that, but his eyes say otherwise. I take a breath before explaining. “You know, textbook: secretly knew who I was, seduced me, told me all the things I wanted to hear.” My eyes start to burn. I do not want to be telling the beautiful, meticulously perfect man in front of me about my deepest shame. “But the really bad part was it . . . it happened twice. Two different men, months apart, same MO. And I was too dumb to see it. Stupid Silly Shallow Sam, hopeful and trusting to a fault, and of course my family was so ashamed and livid and just . . . I mean, it was horrific.
“Dad just paid them off, to keep it all out of the press. They tried to hide it from me, but I knew they were disappointed in me. I mean, I almost single-handedly ruined the Canton family name. It’s not like I woke up one day and decided,Hey, today I’m going to star in my very own sex tape,you know?”
That sends Emerson into a fit of coughs. He gets two waters out of the fridge and hands me one, without looking in my direction, and I’m pretty sure his hands are trembling with anger.
“I know, okay? It’s really bad, but I thought I knew them, especially Drake. I mean, I thought he actually loved me. I thought we might get freaking engaged.” The tears are falling fast now—I can’t help it. “I should’ve seen, I know. I make people out to be better than they are in my head, Emerson,I know.I was bad for the company, bad for Dad, Grandpa.I know, okay?And everyone is sure the leak last year is my fault too even though they don’t say it, I know they do, and they’re probably right! I mean, it’s me. I’m the loser in the family, the screwup, the disappointment.”
As I let the words and the pain bubble over, things I haven’t even admitted out loud before, Emerson makes his way over to me. He wipes the tears from my cheeks with his warm hands that dwarf my features. His fingers are still trembling, so I can’t bear to look up at him. I open my mouth to apologize again, for the shame I seem to keep bringing onto the Canton name—a name he’s worked so hard to grow, for a decade.
“You are not a disappointment,” he says softly yet roughly. I hold back sobs, forcing myself not to break down in front of him.
I can’t look up. “You’re angry with me, though.”
“No. Well, yes.” He drops his hands and lets out a heavy sigh. “I wish you’d taken me with you tonight . . . let me . . . protect you.”
