The Crush List

Chapter Fifteen – Girl’s Night Out

The morning haze had barely lifted when Cal’s publicist, Marianne Archer, arrived at the mansion, sunglasses on and tablet in hand. Emery sat curled up on the couch, nursing a mug of tea, while Cal greeted Marianne at the door with a curt nod.

Marianne walked in briskly, wasting no time. “We have a situation,” she said, tapping her tablet. “Vivienne has stirred up just enough drama to light a spark. If we don’t control the narrative, it’ll spread like wildfire.”

Cal leaned against the edge of the dining table, arms crossed. “What do you suggest?”

Marianne glanced at Emery, then back at Cal. “We keep you looking like the dedicated actor you are, not some reckless playboy rebounding with a younger woman. And we make Emery relatable, likable, and, most importantly, untouchable in the public eye.”

Emery blinked. “How?”

Marianne sat down and scrolled through her notes. “You already have a good foundation. You’re close friends with Lianne, the up-and-coming artist everyone loves right now. And let’s not forget your connection with Jace Rivers. If he says a word in your favor, we’ve got half the internet backing you.”

Cal smirked. “Jace would do it. He likes her.”

Marianne nodded. “We also use your upcoming film to shift attention. You’ll do a few carefully planned interviews, make it about the project. Emery, you won’t have to speak publicly unless you want to. But if you do, we’ll script it perfectly.”

Emery exchanged a glance with Cal. He gave her a reassuring look. “We handle this our way,” he said. “No one gets to twist what we have into something cheap.”

Marianne closed her tablet. “Then let’s do it. We’re not just putting out fires. We’re rebuilding your image stronger than before.”

Cal placed a hand gently on Emery’s back. “You okay with this?”

She nodded. “I trust you.”

And in that moment, she knew they’d face whatever came next as a team.

Cal’s suitcase was already half-packed when Emery walked into the bedroom, a towel twisted around her damp hair and a cup of tea in hand. He stood by the dresser, sorting through folded shirts with practiced ease. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him. Even in something as mundane as packing, he carried a kind of quiet purpose that made her heart skip.

“You’re really going,” she said softly.

He looked up, catching her gaze. “In two weeks. But Marrienne thinks it’s better I head out early. Show the press where my focus is—on the work. Not Vivienne’s drama.”

She nodded, moving toward the edge of the bed and sitting down. “Makes sense. You love your job. That should be what people talk about.”

Cal dropped a pair of boots into his open duffel and crossed the room to her. He crouched in front of her, taking her tea and setting it aside. His hands found her thighs as he looked up into her eyes.

“You’ll come with me, right?”

“I thought you wanted to keep me out of it for now.”

“I do,” he said. “But hiding you isn’t the same as protecting you. Marrienne’s working with Lianne. If you two are seen together in the city, maybe at an art show or something, it helps shift attention. Reminds people you’re your own person.”

She bit her lip. “And if they still talk?”

“Then let them. I won’t let their noise touch us.”

Her chest tightened with emotion. She didn’t feel like a scandal or a distraction when he looked at her like that. She felt like someone who mattered.

“I’ll come,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead, then her lips, soft and lingering. “We’ll face it all. Together.”

Their rental home in New York wasn’t as expansive as Cal’s mansion in L.A., but it oozed charm with its exposed brick walls, tall windows, and creaky hardwood floors. Emery liked it immediately. It felt…lived in. Cozy. Less like a film set and more like a temporary pocket of normalcy—whatever that meant in her new reality.

Cal seemed to relax as soon as they arrived. He’d been wound tight the entire flight, fielding emails from Marrienne and studio reps. Now, with their bags barely unpacked and the faint noise of city life outside the window, he finally exhaled.

Marrienne was already at the townhouse when they arrived, iPad in hand, multitasking between coordinating press and rearranging Cal’s upcoming interviews.

“I’ve cleared your schedule for tomorrow morning,” she told him, tapping through her notes. “Three major interviews this week—one print, two on camera. You’ll address the project, your commitment, and if they ask about Vivienne…”

“I’ll pivot back to the work,” Cal said, reciting it like muscle memory.

“Exactly.”

Emery watched them from the couch, quietly sipping her coffee, her gaze drifting to the city skyline visible beyond the large front windows. It still didn’t feel real—being here with him, part of this whirlwind.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Cal asked, suddenly in front of her, his hand brushing her hair behind her ear.

She smiled. “I’m more than okay. Lianne and I are meeting at a gallery this afternoon, actually. She found this place that’s showing experimental photography.”

“Good. Stay out as long as you like,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You deserve time that’s just for you.”

“And you deserve people seeing how grounded and focused you actually are,” she teased lightly.

He chuckled. “Marrienne would cry happy tears if they figured that out.”

Their fingers lingered as he pulled away to follow Marrienne into his makeshift office. Emery stood, her phone buzzing with a message from Lianne.

Can’t wait to see you! I have stories. Also—wear the boots. Trust me.

She grinned, suddenly excited for the afternoon ahead.

The gallery was tucked into a cobblestone side street in SoHo, its entrance marked by an iron arch and a crimson door that creaked like it was in on some old secret. Emery stepped inside and was immediately swallowed by soft jazz, the scent of citrusy perfume, and the clean scent of paint and varnish.

Lianne was already there, a glass of rosé in hand, wearing a leather jacket over a silk dress that only she could pull off so effortlessly.

“There she is,” Lianne grinned, holding her arms out for a hug. “Looking like you stepped out of a magazine spread. Cal’s influence is working.”

Emery rolled her eyes and let herself be hugged. “It’s the stylist’s influence. And you helped, don’t deny it.”

“Please. You’re a walking before-and-after miracle, babe. You were always gorgeous, now you just know it.”

They wandered through the gallery together, pausing before dreamy abstract portraits, bold modern collages, and one particularly sensual photo series that made Emery blush. It was freeing in a way she hadn’t expected—being here with someone who didn’t see her as ‘Cal’s girlfriend’ but as herself.

Lianne sipped her wine and nudged her. “You know Vivienne is just mad because her spotlight’s gone. You’re younger, fresher, and you make Cal smile like a man who’s finally come home. She can go write her tragic memoir.”

Emery laughed, despite herself. “I don’t know if I’m fresher, but I definitely don’t want to be in a competition with her.”

“Too late,” Lianne said, smirking. “She started it. And you’re winning. And let’s be honest—have you seen the pictures of you two at the airport? You looked like the plot twist in every romantic drama ever made.”

Emery groaned and hid her face behind her hand. “Don’t remind me.”

“I will remind you,” Lianne teased. “Because it’s time you realize that you’re not some accidental side character in his story. You’re the love interest. The one that makes the audience root for him again.”

Emery stared down into her drink, the warmth of Lianne’s words settling somewhere deeper than she'd expected.

“Thanks for this,” she said softly.

Lianne hooked her arm around Emery’s and whispered like a conspirator, “Now come with me, there’s a piece I want to show you. It’ll either make you cry or inspire your next big life decision.”

Emery smiled, letting herself be tugged along. With Lianne beside her, even the stormy noise of public scrutiny felt just a little quieter.

The restaurant was buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional flash of someone sneaking a photo. Emery wasn’t sure how Lianne had landed a table at one of the most talked-about restaurants in the city, but by the way she slid into the booth like she owned the place, Emery had a feeling she was more connected than she let on.

A bottle of chilled rosé arrived before they even ordered—Lianne must have called ahead.

“I’m starving,” Emery said, browsing the menu but already feeling full from the whirlwind of attention they’d received walking in.

At least three people had given her second glances, and she wasn’t sure if it was recognition… or the dress.

Lianne waved a hand. “Oh, we’ll eat. But first—spill. I’ve been patient long enough. You’re sleeping with Cal freaking Donovon, and I’m still living off gossip from three parties ago. I need details. The world needs details.”

Emery blinked, nearly choking on a sip of water. “I am not feeding the world gossip.”

“No, just me,” Lianne said sweetly. “And I’m your friend, which means I get a VIP pass.”

Emery flushed and looked down at her napkin. “It’s not just… s*x. It’s more. Cal’s actually really thoughtful, and kind. He listens. He takes care of me.”

Lianne leaned in like she was watching a love confession unfold in real time. “Uh-huh. And?”

Emery raised a brow. “And what?”

“Girl, you had a night with Jace that left you glowing for days. And now you’re shacked up with a literal movie star who has the body of a Greek god and a smirk that should be illegal. You’re telling me he listens? Sure, okay. But what else does he do?”

Emery laughed, unable to stop herself. “You are so nosy.”

“I’m invested. You had a hot rockstar one-night stand and then moved in with a Hollywood heartthrob. This is romance novel gold. You’re living every repressed dream I’ve ever had. Now give me something juicy. Moans? Marks? Kitchen counters?”

“Lianne!” Emery laughed louder this time, face warm.

Lianne grinned wickedly. “Just one detail. Come on. Did he kiss you slow or pin you to the wall like he’s in one of his movies?”

Emery bit her lip, looking away but unable to hide the dreamy smile playing on her face.

“Oh my god,” Lianne breathed, sitting back. “You’re in love with him.”

The words dropped between them like a stone in still water. Emery froze.

Lianne softened. “You are. Aren’t you?”

Emery didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Emery twirled the condensation on her glass with her fingertip, her cheeks still warm from Lianne’s teasing. But now the laughter had faded, and all that remained was the truth buzzing in her chest like something fragile and alive.

“I think I’ve always loved him,” she said softly, barely above the hum of the restaurant.

Lianne blinked, her teasing expression falling into something more serious. “Since when?”

“Since… forever.” Emery let out a shaky laugh. “Since he came over for dinner when I was fifteen and remembered I hated mushrooms. Since he helped my brother fix up his old car and stayed to play board games with us because I asked. I had braces and glitter shoes, and he was this untouchable man who smiled at me like I wasn’t invisible.”

She looked up at Lianne, her voice tight. “He was my first crush. And now he’s just… Cal. In my life. In my bed. And I wake up every day terrified that I’m going to lose it. That he’s going to wake up and realize he could have anyone else. Someone less awkward. Less scared. Less me.”

Lianne reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’re not scared because it’s not real, Em. You’re scared because it is.”

Emery bit her lip, blinking back sudden tears.

“He’s not with you because you’re convenient,” Lianne added. “He’s with you because you’re the girl who makes him laugh and challenges him and probably scares the hell out of him, too.”

“I just…” Emery exhaled. “It feels like this glittering, golden bubble, and I’m afraid someone’s going to pop it. Vivienne already tried.”

“And she failed,” Lianne said firmly. “Because you’re not just some girl with a crush anymore, Em. You’re the woman he chose. And from the way he looks at you?” She grinned. “You’re the one he’s afraid to lose.”

Emery smiled, heart heavy and light all at once.

“Then maybe it’s time,” she whispered, “to stop being afraid… and just fall.”

The city was quieter than usual as Emery stepped out of the cab and walked up to the rental home Cal had chosen in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood of Manhattan. The golden glow from the kitchen windows spilled across the porch, and through the glass she could see him—barefoot, in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, his hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it.

Her heart skipped.

Not because he looked like a scene from a romantic movie. But because he was him. And he was hers.

She opened the door, and the faint aroma of herbs and garlic welcomed her. Cal looked up from the pan he was tending and gave her that slow, crooked smile that always made her knees go weak.

“Hey,” he said. “Perfect timing. I was just about to burn dinner.”

She dropped her purse by the door, walked toward him without saying a word, and slipped her arms around his waist. He smelled like spices and warmth and something inherently Cal. He turned off the stove and turned fully to face her.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Emery looked up at him, really looked—and remembered Lianne’s words: You’re the one he’s afraid to lose.

“I’m done being scared,” she whispered.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Cal Donovon. And I’m tired of pretending I’m not falling harder every second I spend with you.”

He exhaled, the tension leaving his body all at once like he’d been holding his breath this entire time. Then he kissed her—soft at first, then deeper, his hand sliding to the small of her back like he couldn’t bear to let her go.

When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers.

“Then fall, Emery,” he said quietly. “I’ve been falling for you since the moment I saw you again.”

And just like that, dinner forgotten and hearts wide open, she let herself fall.