Kicking Reality

I did love him. We had built a life together for the last three years. We purchased our first home, moved in together, and spent the last year growing our fitness line. We even adopted a dog—George Puggington.

Everyone referred to us as the ‘unstoppable duo.’ We were taking the world by storm, and at the ripe old age of twenty-six, Forbes predicted we would be billionaires by the time we reached thirty.

It was win-win in everyone’s eyes. Everyone’s but my own.

There’s a commotion around us; the crew touching up my makeup and hovering over me while my knees shake in the cold. Wesley taps his foot, frustrated and impatiently waiting for them to finish, when the ring box slips out of his shivering hands and onto the pile of snow in front of me.

I don’t know what compelled me to bend down and pick it up. As I lean down, ignoring my fingers stiffen from the cold, I lift it towards me until my focus moves to the scar on my knee. Three stitches from when I fell off a zip line at the age of ten. When I didn’t have a care in the world. When life was nothing but unicorns, rainbows, and making my brother’s life hell.

The good ol’ days before life became a circus show.

But who do I have to blame?

The man professing his love to me in front of the entire world?

The millions of fans that tune in at seven every Monday night?

Or myself . . . for thinking I had to prove a point?

Cliff directs all the cameramen to take their places. With everyone positioned as before, Wes stands on the black cross—taped to the ground—and I follow his lead.

“And five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .”

“Em, there isn’t a day that goes past that I don’t imagine you in my life . . .”

“There are signs everywhere you look.

You just need to ignore the bullshit that clouds them.”

~ Emerson Chase

“What is it like to be the hottest couple on TV?”

I should have seen it coming. A frenzy that could only be described as pure madness. My publicist, Nina, warned us this would happen. The producers and network executives knew they would top the ratings with that episode. Everyone was on a high, including me.

“We just go on about our lives as if the cameras aren’t watching. Hottest? We honestly don’t think that of ourselves.” Wesley laughs, resting his hand comfortably on my thigh.

What a load of shit. I hold back the predictable eye-rolling as Wesley charms the reporter from Hot Entertainment News—the biggest entertainment program around the globe.

We’ve been asked this question numerous times and each time, Wesley lies through his teeth that labels aren’t important. To clarify: they aren’t important to me. I couldn’t care less. But he has this desperate need to be number one in everything he does. When we first met, his competitiveness was a major turn-on. Now, I simply ignore his immature behaviour.

The proposal was filmed two months ago and aired only last night. We were under strict contractual obligations to not let it slip which meant that I was forced to keep that beautiful ring in my closet and not showcase like a happy, newly engaged woman. Aside from our parents and entourage of management, no one else knew. But last night, at exactly 7:42 PM, the world watched and social media blew up.

Many congratulatory messages from fellow actors and fans, then, the trolls started. How dare I marry Wesley Rich? Emerson Chase is nothing but an ugly gold-digging whore wanting to tie him down and ruin his reputation.

I was also called too fat, too skinny, and Oh My God—I hate her hair!

I’d heard and seen it all, ignoring the nastiness and avoiding social media if it weren’t for Wesley reading the tweets to me late last night.

“Babe, check it out. This chick has photoshopped you onto a cow’s body.”

I grabbed the phone to look at the photo. It was kinda funny but still hurt my feelings.

This industry called for tough skin. I knew that. I just didn’t anticipate three years ago that our show, Generation Next, would be the highest-rated show for the network. They didn’t anticipate it either. When we were scouted on campus to do the show, they simply wanted some college kids with different majors.

I’m not stupid, I knew they wanted me because of who my mother was and the fact that my brother had just been picked up to play premier-league soccer in England. But nevertheless, I signed the dotted line because I was bored and had zero social life. College was depicted as one big social orgy. Yeah, I may have gone to a few frat parties and drank like tomorrow didn’t exist, but for most of the part, I kept to myself with the goal to finish my major sober.

My attention is brought back to Donna Mack—the slutty reporter showing way too much leg that Wesley is pretending to ignore.