Students will revise history.
Emme saton the four-poster bed in a t-shirt and shorts, her legs folded in front of her and a small pillow clutched to her chest as I paced the room. I hadn’t bothered to put on a clean shirt. I figured it would be easier for her to gut me without clothes getting in the way.
The sound of crickets blew in through the open windows and the floorboards creaked beneath my feet. Neither of us mentioned returning to the party, and I appreciated the hell out of that.
But it meant I had to confess everything else. Even with all this time on my side, I still didn’t know the right way to do it.
“That night when we met up for dinner, back in March,” I started, “I was going to tell you everything about the franchise deals and the Wallaces and how your father was involved. The plan was?—”
“I do enjoy being the subject of everyone’s plans,” she said.
“—to ask you to come to some of my events and make it look like we were together.” I shrugged as I added, “I was going to wait until it was all over to bring up the pact.”
She pushed her fingers through her hair, grumbling, “Why, pray tell, did you not?”
I stopped pacing and shifted to face her. “Because you were breaking, Em, and I had to do something. Everything was going wrong for you and I couldn’t leave you like that. You had this terrible ex—and fuck, I didn’t even know the half of it—and I couldn’t let you go on hurting like that.”
“Then you didn’t plan on proposing?”
I laughed, dipping my hands into my trouser pockets. “No, that was a game-time decision.”
“Why?”
I stared at the quilt for a second before saying, “You were talking about how the only thing you wanted was to be with someone, how you just wanted to be loved and—and I was right there, Em, just fucking waiting to give you that. The words were out before I even thought about them.”
“I don’t recall you trying to take them back.”
“Why would I? You said yes.” I shrugged. “It was all I’d ever wanted.”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed. “And my dad? Why did that have to be a secret? I would’ve been okay with it if I’d known. I would’ve been on your side. I would’ve helped. Why couldn’t you clue me in that you were using me for leverage there?”
“Except you weren’t the leverage.” I curled my hands around the footboard. “Charles was never a serious contender for the soccer clubs. He might’ve thought he was, but that’s not how it went down.” When her brows pinched, I continued. “There were a lot of bidders. He was one of them—and I should’ve told you that, but I knew how it was going to shake out for him and Ididn’t want to add to your stress. You already had enough with that fucking ex and the headaches with your class, and Ines and then your apartment. I wanted things to be good for you, for once.”
“I can hear his name without freaking out,” she said.
“I know, baby, but I just didn’t want to add to your worries. Especially not with the issues he’s dealing with. It’s a well-known secret in the industry that he’s had problems with alcohol and spent some time in rehab. I hate that you were the last to know.” She turned her attention to the window and kept it there, her jaw clenched. “The Wallaces are high off their own hypocrisy and they didn’t want to be anywhere near those issues. They kept him engaged to jack up the price and I suspect he realized that toward the end, which was why it was so easy for him to bow out.”
“You’ve known this? The whole time?” she asked, the words barely audible.
I nodded. “They strung him along up until the final days, but they never intended to sell to him. They’re dicks so they made a lot of noise about me being a feral bachelor or something?—”
“Like a wildcat?”
There was a laugh in her words, and it took me a minute to realize she was teasing me. A grin lit my face as I said, “Yeah, like a wildcat.” I watched as she absently zipped her pendant along the chain. “When I met you that night, I told you I needed to make it look believable. That you were the only one who could help me clean up my image. I told you I had to get married. It had to be you. None of it was true.”
Her fingers froze on the necklace. “What?”
“I could’ve asked anyone,” I said. “Hired someone, even.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I spread my hands out in front of her. “I waited all these years and—and I didn’t want anyone else. I’veneverwanted anyoneelse. So, if I had to pretend, I was going to do it with you. And I was going to pray to all the gods I don’t believe in that you liked pretending with me enough to make it real.”
“Why didn’t you just…tell me?” she asked.
I motioned to the championship wins on my torso. “You hate football.”
“You know that’s not the case.” She tossed the pillow aside. “That’s just something I say because I’m disgustingly dramatic and I’m still patching up my childhood traumas.”
