The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,76

craved that one tiny moment. That connection."

“No.” I squeezed the back of my neck in frustration. “That’s bullshit, Emma. Because we’d had lunch at Frenchy’s and before that, we’d met at my party. You didn’t have to—”

"I didn't know that you recognized me at the party." She took a step back and embarrassment flooded her face. "My teeth—"

"You were just as pretty back then, you just didn't have the confidence."

She massaged the tips of her fingers into her eyes with a groan, then dropped them with a sigh.

"Okay, yes—I'd seen you at the party, and yes—I'd had a horrific date with you at Frenchy's. And I went to the Ranch to find a reason to hate you but visited with Wesley because a part of me was crushing on you. And then…"—she searched for the right words—"he was just, so freaking pure. So simple and good, and he looked at me as if I was a good person. And Cash… no one had looked at me like that in a really long time. Honestly, the last person who looked at me like that was you—at that party—and that moment almost broke me, but with Wesley, it was like it healed me. Like maybe I didn't have to be this hateful person online just to get followers. Like maybe other people would see what he saw." Her shoulders lifted limply, almost in surrender. "So I went back to the Ranch again. And again. Not for any reason other than because I loved spending time with him. And it made him happy, and it made me happy, and that was it."

She looked at me, and her eyes wet with tears. "Please don't keep me from seeing him. He—"

"Please, stop." I moved to the recliner and sat down, needing to process this. To be honest, I had been expecting her to woo me back—not to beg for visitation rights to my brother. And now, with everything she'd just said… I didn't know what to think. "Why are you here?"

“I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“Okay, and?” I looked up at her. “Any other confessions you have for me?”

She walked around the sectional and sat down in the same spot Frank had been. Perching on the edge of the cushion, she pinned her hands to her knees and glanced out the windows.

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “I was going to tell you about the party, but apparently you already know about that.”

“And?” I snapped.

“That’s it. At least as far as the confessions go.”

There was something more she wanted to say. I could feel her hesitating, her tongue on the roof of her mouth as she held back something. She pulled her glasses off her head and folded them together.

“Spit it out.” I hunched forward on the recliner, my forearms on my knees and stared at the floor to keep from standing up and walking over to her.

“I’m getting hammered online, and I haven’t said anything. My team is pushing me to make a statement.”

I'd wondered about that. A quiet Emma was unsettling and had made me even more suspicious over her motives and intentions. "So?" I stared at a knot in the wood as my inners waged war over kicking her out or carrying her to my bedroom.

“So, I wanted to see what you wanted me to do.”

That caused me to look up. “What?”

“Do you want me to make a statement and respond to the allegations?”

“Which allegations? The ones about you molesting Wesley?”

“Well, yeah. I mean—” she paused. “There are a lot. But that’s one of them, yes.”

“Why would I care if you defended yourself?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. You’ve gotten really upset in the past about me talking to the press about you or your family.”

I stared at her. “Emma. You aren’t this stupid.”

Her cheeks tinted pink, and a hint of her attitude flared back into her eyes. "I'm not stupid. I just—"

I poked the bear harder. “If you don’t know the difference between embellishing stories or defending yourself against criminal actions, then you are stupid.”

“I’m trying not to piss you off!” She stood, her hands balling into fists at her side.

“Too late,” I snarled, matching her action.

"So, I can talk to the press?" She countered. "You won't accuse me of trying to use you for the publicity?"

“Talk away,” I gestured in the direction of the front door and hoped she would walk toward it. “Blab to them until you’re blue in the face.”

I don't know what I said, but then her face