Bad Boy Rich

The whole ordeal had been one giant blur. I couldn’t even remember how I got here. What I do remember is listening to my voicemails, hearing Mom’s voice and feeling overwhelmed by fear as she mentioned my Grandpapa.

Then—there was the issue of the media finding out about mine and Wesley’s relationship. The paparazzi were relentless, and if my memory serves me correct—a few were stationed outside this hotel. I don’t recall their faces, nor their questions, but their invasive behavior annoyed our security guards. Thankfully, Emerson was a pro at avoiding them, dragging me with her and covering our faces with immensely large sunglasses she had in her purse.

Sitting on the edge of my bed dressed in her sweats, a sad smile shadows Emerson’s normally positive aura. Letting out a deep sigh, she places her hand on top of mine and rubs it gently.

“I’m here, if you need to talk. I won’t judge, and I’m sorry I judged you earlier. It took me by surprise…I’m sorry.”

She loses herself for a moment, deep in thought before continuing. Much like myself, she had dark circles under her eyes from the grueling trip and our big night out. Though, she still was beautiful. Natural, and flawless, in her own right.

“When I first signed up to Generation Next, the reality show, I had no clue what it was like to be in the spotlight. My brother Ash, and Logan, had just been scouted. They were famous for their abilities, lived and breathed soccer. Me…I was on TV and didn’t expect the level of fame that came with it. I also didn’t expect the intrusion.”

I listen, resting my head against the pillow and pulling the blanket up closer to my chin, keeping my body warm.

“I guess it’s why Wesley and I were right for each other at the time. He was going through the same thing, and we both felt trapped. If our lives would play out on TV, wouldn’t it be easier to be with someone that was experiencing the same thing?”

“Tell me,” I ask, softly, “about you and Wesley. I want to know it through your words, not the tabloids.”

She shuffles her legs onto the bed, crossing them beneath each other.

“He was gorgeous. Every time I was around him, we had this flirtatious thing we would do and I loved it. I wasn’t stupid, women wanted him and I guess, if I’m being honest, I wanted to be the one that had him—not them.”

I smile, without the bitter attachment, because I understood exactly what she meant. This possessive hold over a man unattainable is a force to be reckoned with. I had never felt something so powerful.

“He’s charming.” She grins, adding a small laugh. “When he’s in a good place he is so creative and driven. Do you know, part of our dry-fit technology concept was because of him?”

“I thought he had nothing to do with it?”

“He came up with the basic concept, then we passed it on to a technical team to move forward with the rest. I just wish he didn’t mix with the wrong crowd. Like I said, when he’s on, he’s on. But when he’s in that dark place…it’s hard to pull him out.”

“And his mother, what did you think of her?”

Emerson’s laugh is short but full of contempt. “She’s determined, that’s for sure. Unfortunately, I don’t trust her. She’s so hung up on wealth that she doesn’t realize she has a son that needs attention.”

Gina struck me as exactly that—gold and fame digger.

“But I don’t think Wesley wants her attention.”

“I think you’re right, to a certain extent. You can’t erase the past and she’s done her damage. But I guess, being an optimist, it doesn’t have to be that way in the future. She needs to find her way and Wesley needs to find his without her constantly bringing him down.”

I bite my lip, holding back my fears but at the same time, desperate to unleash what my heart so eagerly wants to communicate. And if anyone would understand what it’s like to walk a mile in my shoes—it would be Emerson Chase.

“It hurts me to see him that way, I could never imagine living a life without a supportive mother. I just…I just don’t know how to help him. I know he wants more from me, but I can’t give it, Emerson. All I have to give is to my mom. She needs me, not him.”

The sobs remained trapped in my chest; my tears unwillingly fall silently against the white pillow as I remember the voicemail from Mom. I couldn’t bear to see this happening; the woman I love and looked up to deteriorating at this slow and agonizing rate.

“I miss my mom, every day and it hurts.” I wipe my tears against my sleeve. “God, I know I look stupid. I’m too old to feel this way.”

Emerson pats my leg, comforting me and listening.

“No you’re not. I miss my mom too. We talk almost every day on the phone. When I leave her, I cry too. It’s hard being away from your family, but on the bright side, one day—you’ll have a family of your own and your kids will feel the same way.”

Slow and steady, I open my heart and tell Emerson what I have never admitted to anyone else. Not Mom, not Phoebe, and maybe—not even myself.

“I don’t want kids. I’m terrified that I’ll have the same disease as Mom. And you know, I just couldn’t do it to another human being. It’s not fair to have to worry all the time whether or not they’ll remember you tomorrow.”

Emerson keeps her judgment at bay, nodding her head and understanding my fear to procreate. A huge part of me felt relieved—a 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.”