Bad Boy Rich
My gaze wanders to the window, watching the sun set in the horizon. It’s stun
ning 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 knew the truth behind her words because if there was no truth—I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I would be on the phone to him, happy and telling him how much I loved him.
Instead, I was 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 up, pursing her lips and smiling 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 towards 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 am DONE with him being in our life.”
“You’re angry, but this is not 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 didn’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 was all my fault.
If anything should happen to Emerson and Logan—I could only blame myself. The same feeling I had with Mom. I shouldn’t have left home. If I didn’t, she wouldn’t have been this way. She would have remembered that Grandpapa died years ago. Everything would have just continued on.
I drag myself back to the bed, thinking about what Logan said. He made me sound like a whore. I contemplated calling him directly but change my mind quickly.
Beside my bed is a nightstand with a fancy lamp. My cell, sitting on top—has nothing from Wesley. I wasn’t 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 needed. A piece of home, even if it was just a phone call. I missed everything about her, and hearing her voice brought back so much of myself that felt 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 Mom…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 poured my entire heart out to her. Everything from the moment I met Wesley to this evening. Phoebe listened quietly though my stupid phone kept buzzing from call waiting. I ignored 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.”