“Emerson.” He clears his throat.

His voice is rough and deep, somewhat like he’s just woke from a deep sleep. He has such a sexy voice.

I turn my head so I can look at him, he has rolled up his shirt sleeves, there’s little black hair on his arms. 

He strides over to the sofa and lowers himself down. He sighs again, and closes his eyes.

“Gosh, you saw the article?” He finally asks.

I nod.

“Do you believe whatever is written there?” He looks at me.

I just shrug and focus on my bowl again. I can see that I’m frustrating him. 

“Natalie and I are..good friends.” He states. I can tell this is hard for him, he can’t talk about his feelings.

“Stop beating around the bush, Tom. Are you sleeping with her?” I ask

He raises his eyebrows and pushes himself up, he looks distraught. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it fall over his face. His dark blue eyes look over at me, calmly. I can see his eyes clearly, even though they’re hidden under all that hair. He really needs a new haircut. 

“Yes.” He hisses.

I don’t know how to feel. Hurt? No. Angry? Yes, because he wasn’t discreet enough. 

“How long?” I finally ask

“A year.” He replies and watches me closely, for a reaction. Any reaction.

Sadly, he gets none. I am numb. Mainly because I don’t love him, and I’ve never expected love nor loyalty from him.

“How are you going to fix this? We’ll have a PR nightmare.” I ask instead.

He pauses mid-step, he looks confused. Was he expecting me to be sad? He gathers himself and shakes his head.

“I already have my people on it. I’ll discard the rumors. We already agreed that we’ll say, she’s my private dresser and a very close family friend. We have agreed to paint you and her as best friends.” He explains.

That is honestly the longest sentence he has ever said to me since we got married.

“We? Who is this ‘we’?” I ask

“Natalie and I.” He faces me.

I nod. “Whatever you do, just don’t.. get her pregnant.” I stand up and walk away.