Emma stands where the living room transitions to the kitchen. I think this is called open-plan living. I just call it shitty and small.
She shifts her weight, looking self-conscious and wearing a tailored pajama set that covers most of her skin. Though she’s now in clothes, I can’t unsee the way she looked in just a small towel.
I mentally slap myself and turn back to the stove. “I’m cooking. The omelet is almost all done. But there’s toast if that’s all you can handle.”
“An omelet sounds good.” She tilts her head, taking in the eggs, a second pan with vegetables, and her cramped counters full of groceries that I’ve yet to put away. Her eyes scan her sink full of dirty dishes.
“I’ll load the dishwasher, I promise, just as soon as I can find it,” I grumble and wonder if she’s going to bring up the Towel Incident and its aftermath. Or if she’ll play it like it never happened.
She smiles. “There isn’t one. Which is one reason I cook as little as possible. What is all this?” she asks. “I thought you had Duncan deliver us dinner? And since when can you cook, and where did all these groceries come from? It looks like you bought out Whole Foods.”
So she’s going to play it like it never happened. Which is probably for the best.
“Duncan delivered our food hours ago. It wasn’t fresh, so I had Matt do an online grocery order,” I explain. “And I’ve always been an awesome cook. Marie taught me.”
Her brows lift. “When?”
“AfterThe Familyended, but before I started shootingRebels Academy.Rebelskept getting delayed. I was staying with my grandparents. Since I was a kid with ADHD who was used to being busy, Marie decided to teach me everything she knew in the kitchen to keep me from driving her crazy.”
“Huh.” Emma leans against the counter. Her face is drawn. She looks exhausted.
“Sit, Em,” I urge quietly.
She ignores me. “I thought you left.”
“You heard the doctor—you need to be watched for a while longer.” I shrug with a grin. “And since you refuse to go back to my far superior house… I’m here. You’ll just have to get used to me being your new roomie, at least until you get the all-clear from the doctor.”
“No way are you going to spend another night on my lumpy couch. Your love of a thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets will change your mind.”
“I can handle a little rough. Sometimes I even like it. Besides, the world thinks we’re engaged.”
“And I can’t see just how bad that is because my phone has disappeared.”
“You know that screens could make your concussion worse. It’s in safekeeping for a day or two more.”
“I have work to do, Sebastian. Hand it over.”
“The only thing you need to do right now is eat something so you can take your medicine. And then go back to sleep. Your work is healing.”
Her eyes fill with something that looks suspiciously like tears. My heart squeezes. I’m not used to this version of Emma.I’ve never seen her vulnerable. She’s been feisty since the day I hired her. She always seems invincible. We fight, tease, challenge each other. She gives as good as she gets. Except now.
All I know is when she looks at me with a gloss of tears shimmering in her eyes, I would move heaven, earth, and all the fame and money at my command, to protect her and make her happy again.
I’d give her anything and everything—except give her back her phone today. Because protecting her means following the doctor’s orders, even if she’s being stubborn.
And I have to play this next part even more carefully.
“I’m trying to help,” I say gently. “You scared me.”
She looks down. “I just… I don’t know who I am without”—she waves her hand—“my phone. And my laptop. And working. And being productive.”
“You’re Em,” I say. “Someone I care about. Even without your phone.”
She whips her head up at my unexpected words. I’ve never defined our relationship to her before. Plus, sincere is not my usual demeanor. Nor is being serious.
Emma’s not the only one who hides behind sarcasm. I specialize in playing the blunt asshole. I mean, it’s not one hundred percent an act. But I lean into it.
The corner of my lip tilts up. “And you’re my—”
