Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

Hope. I wasn’t even sure what I would find when I reached Emma. Would I find a heartsick Emma? An eat-her-sorrows Emma? A woman scorned and jaded?

I was still in bed feeling sorry for my own pitiful self when the story appeared in my newsfeed.

Baby Bump Shocker:

Frank Churchill and reality star Jennifer Fairfax expecting.

How they kept their romance a secret. Fans react.

I caught the first plane to L.A. before even calling Frank to confirm the rumour. Even if it was fake news, my concern for Emma was too strong. If it was true, how she must have taken the blow. If it wasn’t, how horrible for her to see all the stories online. I had to get to her to offer whatever emotional support I could—no matter how difficult it would be to see her pining for another man.

As I reached for my key, Rosario opened the door with her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Senorita saying she’s no home.”

“Did she, now?”

“And take off the shoes. You go to la beach. Es mucha sand to my floor.” The silly woman descended the steps and scuttled off to meet James at his car, leaving the front door open for me.

Okaaay. To la beach I go.

I stepped inside, calling after Emma, although I knew she wouldn’t answer. I peeked my head in all the usual spaces. The house was quiet. Passing through the living room toward the beach-facing doors, an odd sight caught my eye. A copy of Jane Eyre sat on the coffee table face down. It was the same copy I had in my house. I could tell by the scrap of notepaper I used as a bookmark. Just to be sure, I double-checked to see if I’d written anything embarrassing on it.

Well, perhaps the lyrics to Never Ever Getting Rid of Me weren’t too incriminating. Moving on.

I found Emma shuffling along down the shoreline, sand flying at her feet as she hurried away from the house. Her pounding march and swinging arms evidenced the agitation in her steps. Tossing her head back to see me follow, she sped up her gait.

“I see you,” I called out from behind. “You don’t need to pretend you’re not home anymore.”

She slowed to a stroll, and I caught up, stepping into stride alongside of her.

“I need to have a talk with Rosario about privacy,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. But what if it was… someone else?” We fell into an easy tread through the sand, cool granules collecting between our toes with every sweeping step. Emma sighed and offered me a sideways glance. “I thought you’d be gone longer.”

“So did I.”

“How was Oz?”

“Well, the rents are on one of those Norwegian river cruises. I went to London instead.”

Emma stopped walking abruptly. “London? Whatever for?”

To pay her mum a visit. To put an end to our deal once and for all.

“Ah, just to stop in on some mates.”

“Oh.”

I let a moment pass before bringing up the subject I came to discuss. The soft ebb and flow of the waves giving me courage to speak.

“Emma, are you doing okay?”

She shrugged, not meeting my eye.

“I… read about Frank. Is it true? About Jen?”

“Yeah.” She resumed her stroll, and we walked in shared silence for a while longer until I found her arm entwined with mine. She pressed her head against my heart and breathed a heavy melancholy sigh. I kissed the crown of her head and stroked a few stray hairs from her shoulders to offer what little comfort I could.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” I whispered. “It doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll get over Frank… in time.”

She didn’t respond, perhaps choosing not to listen to my greeting card clichés. Her attention was on our feet as we stepped in concert to one another. But I needed her to know I’d do anything to protect her.

“You are strong and smart and… too lovely to cry for a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

She looked up at me then with wide, frightened eyes—the likes of which I’d never seen on her before. I turned to her and stroked her chin with my thumb.

“I’ll fire him. For you. Just say the word, and he’s gone.”

Understanding dawned on her features, and she scrunched her nose, saying, “Fire him? Why would you do that when he’s got a baby on the way?”

Oh, dearest, sweetest Emma. She was too good.

“Because he broke your heart, Emma. Plain and simple.”

A reply caught in her throat, and she looked at me with her mouth open as though trying to jog it free. When at last she did speak, it came out as a half-laugh.

“I… did you… say you’d fire Frank from the movie because he flirted with me?”

“Well, I—”

“Maybe you want to fire me too because I encouraged it?”

“Now, Emma—”

“I admit I was a little flattered. He was a fun guy. Lots of charisma. And I was thick, wasn’t I? I let him use me to hold up his ruse. What a cheeky blighter. If I was simple-minded like some girls who will remain unnamed, I might have taken him seriously. Good for him I don’t like men with tattoos.”

“Emma, you don’t have to apologise for something he did.”

“Can you believe he got that Sir Lancelot tattoo for Jennifer? Did you ever notice he called her Queenie? That was because Jennifer is a modern translation of Guinevere. He hid his secret in plain sight for all to see, and we were too daft to notice.”

“You couldn’t have known. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

“Jax, Frank may be a tosser, but it doesn’t make any difference to me. I probably acted like I was into him for the press, but I have never been attracted to Frank Churchill. Give me some credit here.”

“Wha…” I couldn’t get the words out. All this time, I entertained some jealousy toward the man. Did this mean I had some hope?

“Well, how wonderful for Frank. He must be the luckiest jackalope