Kicking Reality

“Will you leave the Royal Kings to move back to the States to be with her?”

“Is Emerson Chase pregnant with your baby or Wesley Rich’s?”

The window is wound up, shut with my focus on the garage door opening. When both cars are parked, Jimmy yells at all of them to back the hell off as it’s private property. They reluctantly do so, retreating back to their spots across the street and waiting for any activity that would give them the scoop they needed.

I follow them upstairs and into the apartment, suddenly realizing how familiar this place feels. Then, I remember, watching all three seasons of the show that was often filmed in this apartment. This was their home. Everything looked exactly as on the screen, although slightly bigger.

It didn’t feel right being here; a wake-up call of the life Emerson lived without me in it. This was her world. A world built on lies, deceit, and fame.

Emerson disappears with Tayla to the room, shutting the door behind them. Wesley is less accommodating, ignoring my presence and disappearing to another room.

Walking to the balcony, I open the door and step outside. The sun is about to rise, and with the exhaustion hitting me fiercely, I sit on the wicker chair and close my eyes.

I had been to hell and back since Emerson left me at the restaurant. No matter what I did or tried—I couldn’t erase her from my thoughts.

I isolated myself from Ash, spending countless hours watching her every move through various social media accounts. For days, I would call her every thirty minutes with nothing but an empty line.

The desperation consumed me to the point that I had contacted Wesley and offered him cash in exchange for him walking away. It was a massive risk; a text that could ruin my career but I no longer cared. I needed her and that was it.

He agreed on one condition: he would go on his trip to Cabo and if he came back and Emerson still wanted out, he would accept the money and leave her alone. I agreed because I had no choice; clutching at straws and anxious to have her all to myself.

The jerk posting on Instagram had me reeling. I was fucking stupid and didn’t think straight. I was scared she would run back to him, my insecurity eating at me despite my phone ringing constantly with ex-lovers trying to hook up. It meant nothing since the girl that consumed me wanted nothing to do with me.

Then in walked Louisa.

>

She wanted what Ash had warned me about—to get back together. I hated that I thought about it—for just a moment—it seemed easy and a ticket out of this drama.

But she wasn’t Emerson.

Everything about Louisa was wrong. I didn’t have to tell her that I was in love with someone else. My body language said it all; withdrawn and closed in. It was enough for her to walk away with a bruised ego.

My eyes open wide; the sun shining against my skin. There are voices inside the apartment. Chris and Abbi had arrived.

This is it. The cat is out of the bag and either this makes or breaks us.

Abbi is sitting on the sofa, twisting her hands and staring at the shaggy rug. She’s quiet and withdrawn, not even acknowledging Emerson’s presence.

Chris is the exact opposite. Pacing up and down, mumbling to himself (the same thing he did when watching our games) and stops mid-step to turn around and face all of us.

“I want the full story,” he demands, glowering with a stiff pose. “Tell me what the hell happened tonight.”

“We went out, Dad,” Emerson says quietly. “I was watching her and they were just sitting on the sand having fun. Another girl thought it would be fun to go for a swim and she got swept out. Tayla tried to save her.”

“And you didn’t think to warn your sister to not go in?!” he questions anxiously.

“I was, um, busy.”

“You were busy?”

Emerson nods, tilting her head as our eyes meet. It’s the first time she has looked at me all night, and in just that one gaze, I want to apologize for my irrational behavior that got us into this mess in the first place, but she quickly turns away, avoiding me once again.

“It doesn’t explain why you are here.” Chris points to me rudely. “You should be in England training for the goddamn game tomorrow. This makes no sense to me.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Abbi speaks up calmly, still avoiding eye contact with everyone. “We’ve been lied to, Chris.”

“Mom, I’m sorry but—”