Page 15 of The Love Rematch
“He’s a producer,” Emily says, tripping over the word. “He’s producing the show.”
“A producer.” Sam repeats the word as if it’s in a foreign language. “So he’s not there to win you back?”
Emily’s heart flips. “No.”
“He’s there to…set you up?”
“I—” Her face twists, and she imagines her twin’s expression is probably the same. “I guess? I hadn’t really— I didn’t—”
“Ha!” A barking laugh comes through the line. It devolves into an uproarious fit of giggles.
“Sam.” Emily is not amused. “Sam!”
Her sister pauses her laughter long enough to string a complete sentence together. “Don’t you see how amazing this is?”
“No,” she deadpans. “I don’t.”
“Emily.” Sam’s voice sobers. “Think about it for one minute. Jake left you. Jake broke your heart. And if he works for the show, then he obviously knew you were the new lead, and he didn’t even warn you. Either he thinks his being there isn’t a big deal, or he’s still a little chickenshit, but no matter what, you have an opportunity here. You’re about to spend six weeks with thirty guys fighting for your attention, and your ex-boyfriend has to film every glorious moment of it. So you can keep doing what you’re doing, which sounds a lot like freaking out in a coat closet somewhere, or you can show him what he’s been missing. You can make him hurt, Em. You can get your revenge.”
“Revenge.”
The word rolls across her tongue, tangy and sweet. She savors it, like a sour candy that’s shocking at first, then tastier and tastier with each passing second.
“Revenge,” Sam repeats. The word emerges like the sun bursting over the horizon of a brand-new day. “Do it, Em. Make him hurt.” Voices filter in through the background. Her sister must still be at the office, dropping everything when Emily needs her, like always. “I’ve got to go. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Emily hangs up, and though she won’t be able to speak to her sister for another six weeks, Sam’s voice lingers.
Revenge.
Revenge.
Revenge.
Emily turns to the dress rack again. Her gaze lands on the nude gown covered in crystals. She traces the edge of the seam and imagines the collar circling her neck, the cut dipping all the way to her butt crack, and the earrings she designed dangling from her lobes. She remembers what her producer said.
I’m here and I’m hot and you all better watch out.
She pictures Jake’s response.
And she gets dressed.
CHAPTERFOUR
jake
A lineof limos fills the driveway—five cars, six men each, all under his charge. Bow ties are in place. First lines are finalized. Gimmicks abound. All that’s missing is a girl.
Thegirl.
Emily.
Jake swallows. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He puts them in his pockets—too casual. He crosses his arms—too abrasive. He clutches his clipboard—too scared. He’s been dreading this moment for a week, losing his nerve to cross paths with her at every opportunity and backing out at the last minute. Hell, he jumped into the janitor’s closet at the studio to avoid meeting her face-to-face in the lobby. He’s a coward and he knows it. He owes her more than this. He should have called her the second she signed the contract. He should have gone to her hotel room to explain. He should have at the very least sent her an email. But now, it’s too late. She’s almost here. He can’t run anymore. He can’t delay. And he can’t figure out what to do with his goddamn hands!
“Jake.”
“What?” he snaps and turns to Fred, who is sitting behind a camera, glaring at him instead of watching the mansion door. Jake takes a deep breath. “Sorry. What do you need, Fred?”
