After All

I eye her in surprise. “Well ain’t that poetic.”

“I am a writer,” she points out. “And I’m still in the romantic stage of our marriage. Anyway, I’m sure Will and my father will miss you deeply, but I have to say that I think you’re doing the right thing. Whether the acting thing works out or not, no matter what you end up doing, it’s pretty obvious that your future isn’t as an office manager of a visual effects studio.” She pauses. “But I will also tell you that your future does belong with that man who is waiting for you, right now, in that kitchen. And no. I don’t mean Will. I mean the other guy. Your bruiser.”

Just then, Will pops his head out the window and yells. “Dinner’s ready!”

His booming voice seems to carry across the lake.

“Wow, the people over in Peachland probably heard that,” I tell her, getting to my feet. Before we walk off though, I pass the marshmallow to her. “For you, Jackie-O. The pregnant one gets the first roasted marshmallow.”

She gives me a charmed smile and plucks the marshmallow off the end of the stick, popping it into her mouth.

Then we walk back to the cabin, ready for dinner with our men.



* * *



As much as Jackie wanted to go for a night swim in the lake, as much as I wanted to drink cider and eat marshmallows, as much as Will and Emmett seemed adamant we have a poker tournament, all of us ended up going to bed early. Maybe it was the bottle of red wine at dinner (which Jackie stared longingly at) or the fact that we had a lot of steak and potatoes, but the only thing anyone was in the mood for was bed.

Even Emmett didn’t try any moves on me once we settled under the covers and before I could even comment on it, we were both out like a light.

We all slept in the next morning too, only getting up just before lunch to make a big meal of bacon, eggs, hash-browns and toast. Then Jackie and Will went into the lake to try stand-up paddle-boarding, while Emmett and I walked up the street to the nearest vineyard to do some tasting.

Of course, the closest vineyard happened to be called Cockburn and had a five-foot tall ceramic rooster outside.

“What is your fascination with giant cocks?” Emmett jokes as we stroll hand in hand through the gates. Even though it’s just after noon, the parking lot is packed with cars and bikes from people doing vineyard tours.

“What can I say, they make a girl happy,” I tell him.

“As long as it’s just my cock making you happy.” His grip on my hand tightens and a strange flash of heat comes across his eyes. “It has just been me, right?”

I look at him strangely. “What do you mean? You mean have I been sleeping with other guys?”

He shrugs and pulls down his aviator shades.

“Emmett,” I tell him, pulling him to a stop. “I’m with you all the time.”

“You did say there was that Casey guy at work, the one who maybe took the pictures.”

I let out an acidic laugh. “Casey? Casey is a creep and also he didn’t take the pictures. I can tell. Besides, it is in our contract that the both of us can’t go around screwing other people.”

“I know what the contract says but it doesn’t mean you don’t want to.”

I’m not really sure what’s come over him and I’m also not sure how to respond. Do I play it cool or not?

I go for something in-between. I lean in close to him and when I’m sure no one is looking, I reach down and grab his crotch. “This is the only cock for me. All you and all the time.”

Finally, he breaks into a grin. I guess all I needed to do was stroke his ego. Or his cock.

“Oh my god, isn’t that Emmett Hill?” a girl says to her friend as they walk past.

Right. Back to being on. And as much as it’s not out of place for the world to see us like this, I really could do without a headline that says Alyssa Martin Loves Cock This Much or something like that.

I pull my hand away and give him a quick smile. “Let’s go inside.”

The winery is busy but it’s also fairly large so it’s not long before we find ourselves lined up for a tasting. The guy doing it seems completely enamored with Emmett and keeps giving us large pours, which is great. The cabin is in stumbling distance and I have plenty of time to sober up before dinner at my mom’s. On second thought, I might want to stay buzzed. Bringing Emmett to meet her is a bit nerve-wracking, no matter our relationship.

“So Emmett,” the sommelier says. His name tag says he’s Eric. “Can you give me the inside scoop on Boomerang? Is Doctor Death really going to steal Boomerang’s power? I have a theory that because Boomerang can go back in time by one minute, Doctor Death is going to develop a formula to do the same. But he’ll be able to do it for like a whole day. Essentially beating Boomerang at his own game.”

Emmett lets out a low whistle, seeming both humbled and flattered. “Impressive. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you took a look at our scripts.”

The guy beams. “I’m clairvoyant,” he says and I’m pretty sure he’s not joking. “I can see into the future, in bits and pieces. Nothing significant.”

“Maybe there should be a superhero show about you,” I tell him.

Eric gives me a faint smile and then fixes all his attention back on Emmett again. “Seriously though. I think that’s what’s going to happen. But I still think Doctor Death will die.”

Emmett shrugs, apparently not put off by it. “It depends on my contract,” he says.

I give Emmett a look, like I’m not sure if he should be talking about this stuff but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So you’re not permanent,” Eric notes.

“Nah, man. Never was. I was supposed to be there for a few episodes but they loved me so much they kept me on. But I still think I’ll get written off at some point, maybe even soon.”

“Really?” I ask him.

Emmett nods, looks between the two of us. “Yeah. But it’s okay. This was never supposed to be my real comeback. You said so yourself.”

“I know but–”

“So then what will you do?” Eric asks. “And what happens to Boomerang?”

“Boomerang will find some other villain to tussle with. Look,” he says, adjusting himself on the stool, “we all know my character isn’t the Joker. He’s not even Klaus. He’s good for now but eventually there will be someone better. Or the show will get canceled.” He laughs when Eric looks horrified. “Anyway, I’ll find something. Probably go back to London and do theatre again.”

“What?” I whisper. This is the first I’m hearing of this. What the hell is he talking about, moving back to London to do theatre? When?

“Uh oh,” Eric says, starting to pour us all more wine. “Looks like you guys are in for a break-up.”

I practically snarl at Eric. “Mind your own business,” I tell him.

He stares at me with wide eyes and slowly backs away from our glasses. “This is the merlot. Enjoy.” Then he promptly turns around and starts dealing with other people.

“Hey, he was pouring good,” Emmett complains, swirling the wine around the glass.