The Revenge Games Duet

Emerson keeps her judgment at bay, nodding her head and understanding my fear to procreate. A huge part of me feels relieved, and it lifts a heavy weight off my shoulders.

“I understand how fear plays a huge part in the decisions we make. But, if for some reason you meet that guy you want to be with for the rest of your life, don’t shy away from creating a family. Blessings can come in all forms.”

My gaze wanders to the window, watching the sunset in the horizon. It’s stunning and perfect in so many ways.

“I love him. I don’t know why but I do.”

The bed moves slightly. Emerson is sitting by my side with her arm around my shoulder. I bury myself into her chest, grateful for her support in this moment.

“I shouldn’t, nor have the right, to question why someone loves someone else. But Milana, I will tell you this. Be careful, please. As much as I love Wesley for what we once had that was good, he also has a side to him that isn’t. And I don’t wish that on you. Just follow your instincts. In the end, what happens, happens.”

I could have gotten angry at her for throwing him into the negative bin again, but I know the truth behind her words because if there is no truth, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I’d be on the phone to him, happy and telling him how much I love him.

Instead, I’m here confiding in his ex-fiancée.

Emerson’s cell vibrates in her lap, and it’s Logan, FaceTiming her.

“You should get that. Tell him I’m sorry, please.”

She stands, pursing her lips and smiling but only just. “I will deal with him. You deal with your own worries, okay?”

Emerson leaves the room the same time I hear Logan shouting over the speaker. Quickly climbing out of bed, I hover toward the door and listen to the conversation as Logan is yelling at Emerson.

“I fucking told you to end this! You never fucking listen to me. You always want to do your own thing and defend him. I swear Emerson, you need to fucking choose once and for all because I’m done with him being in our life.”

“You’re angry, but this isn’t my fault. I can’t control people’s feelings,” she says, raising her voice in frustration.

“You know what? I asked Milana to deal with Wesley. I don’t want him around you anymore. But hey, I didn’t expect her to spread her legs and fuck him.”

“You’re being an asshole right now. I will talk to you when you calm down, you understand me? And you can kiss having another baby goodbye!” She ends the call, letting out a loud groan and stomping her feet with anger.

It’s all my fault.

If anything happens to Emerson and Logan, I can only blame myself. The same feeling I have with Mama. I shouldn’t have left home. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t be this way. She’d remember that Grandpapa died years ago. Everything would just continue on.

I drag myself back to the bed, thinking about what Logan said. He makes me sound like a whore. I contemplate calling him directly to explain myself but quickly change my mind.

Beside my bed is a nightstand with a fancy lamp. My cell, sitting on top, shows nothing from Wesley. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or worried.

I scroll through my contacts, in a clouded and frazzled state, and dial the number.

“It’s me.” I cry softly into the speaker. “Are you there? Say something.”

There’s a long pause. Each second that passes hurts more and more.

“I’m here. Milly, what is going on with you?”

Phoebe’s concern is comforting and exactly what I need. A piece of home, even if it’s just a phone call. I miss everything about her, and hearing her voice brings back so much of myself that feels incomplete since the moment we stopped talking.

“I don’t know, Phoebs. I just fell… like hard, and I’m scared. I’m losing everyone, but I can’t pull myself out of this alone. Then there’s Mama… she’s getting worse.”

“Breathe… one, two, three.” Phoebe breathes into the speaker like she’s giving birth, making me laugh through my tears. “When you’re ready… spill.”

I pour my entire heart out to her, everything from the moment I met Wesley to this evening. Phoebe listens quietly, though my stupid phone keeps buzzing from call waiting. I ignore it, wanting to hear her voice and nothing else.

“Jesus, Milly, it’s like a soap opera. What has Hollywood done to you?”

“Not Hollywood. Wesley.”