Page 3 of The Love Rematch
“Emily Ann needs a man.Hey, that rhymes!Emily Ann needs a man. Emily Ann needs a man!” He proceeds to do a little mock cheer with imaginary pom-poms, and the entire crowd joins in. Damn that perfectly charming former NFL player. Damn him straight to hell! “Emily Ann needs a man. Emily Ann needs a man. I like that.”
Her mother leans toward the microphone, obviously pleased with herself. “It took me a while to come up with.”
Emily growls at her television screen. “Is this really happening, Sam? Or am I still asleep in my bed, having a horrible, horrible nightmare that the co-host of a show watched by millions of people every morning just started a chant about my nonexistent love life?”
“No.” Sam doesn’t even have the decency to stifle her snort. “This is really happening.”
“I’m going to kill you. No, first I’m going to kill Mom. And then I’m going to kill you.”
“Quiet. I want to listen. It isn’t every day your sister gets absolutely massacred on live TV.”
“Sam—”
“Shh!”
“Hashtag Em’s the perfect match,” Matthew continues reading. “Like the show?The Love Match?”
“Yes,” her mother says as a positively gleeful twinkle lights her eyes. She’s about to go in for the kill. “I’m trying to nominate my daughter to be the new lead.”
“Well, I have to admire your tenacity, but last season’s runner-up, Ashleigh Bromberger, is the new lead. We had her on our show last month.”
“Oh, shewasthe lead…” Her mother trails off with a mysterious air, and both hosts lean in with curious expressions. “But I have it on good authority that she won’t be the lead for long.”
“Really?” Eden jokes, then glances quickly off screen as if to check how long before the next commercial break.
But Matthew’s all in. That little gossip. “What have you heard?”
“That she and Brad had a little too much fun in the dream suite, and her little souvenir is starting to show. So, I highly doubt thirty men will want to compete for her heart. But my Emily, on the other hand—”
Chaos erupts, drowning her mother out. Every single woman in the audience starts talking at once—and Emily suspects every single viewer at home has too, as her sister says into the phone, “Holy shit, is that true?”
Sam’s a lowly analyst at an investment banking firm with hardly enough time to wipe her butt, let alone watch television, butThe Love Matchhas a hold on all the women in the Peters family.
Emily momentarily forgets about her mortification playing out on live TV. “Oh my god, is it? Iknewthey had a weird vibe on ‘After the Final Puzzle Piece’, but a baby?”
“I think this is aLove Matchfirst.”
“And Mom had the scoop!”
“How?!” they blurt in unison.
“Um, uh, we need to—yeah, commercial break!” Eden Edwards says into the camera, but not fast enough.
In a show of herculean strength, their mother snatches the microphone from an unsuspecting Matthew’s hand. “You can find her on Instagram, at EmilyAnnDesigns! Emily Ann needs a man! Hashtag Em’s the perfect ma—”
The screen switches to a car ad.
Emily shuts the TV off. “What just happened?”
“Our mother is either a marketing genius or completely insane, and I’m not sure which.”
“Marketing genius?”
“She got your Instagram handle on live television, tied it to a massive scandal, and assigned you a hashtag. Genius. On the other hand…she’s certifiable. And I say that with love.”
Emily plops onto her vintage mustard couch, hugs a colorful pom-pom pillow to her chest, and buries her face between her knees in an attempt to calm her racing pulse. Sam’s right. That could have been great publicity, which she sorely needs if she’s ever going to make her dream career a reality. And yet…
Emily’s heart sinks. “Sam.”
