Just Like Her

Chapter 66

Tom

8:22am

Cynthia: Incoming.

Cursing, I leaped out of bed.

Emma groaned and rolled over. "What time is—"

"My parents are on their way," I practically grunted as I yanked on a pair of trousers.

Emma bolted upright, her hair practically standing on end. By the time we had returned to the flat last night, the two of us had barely enough energy to take off our clothes let alone have a shower. Whatever products Trisha had doused Emma's hair with must have been construction grade for her bedhead seemed to defy gravity. "When?"

"Now, love." I shoved my arms through my sleeves and yanked the shirt on over my head. "I'll go make coffee."

Emma rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, further smudging her eye makeup. "I don't understand. What's happening?"

I forced myself to take a deep breath and slow down.

Of course she has no idea what's happening, I chided myself. You made sure she was prepared to attend the PM's dinner, but you never prepared her for the shitstorm that would inevitably come after. Git.

I perched myself on her side of our bed and gently tucked a wild lock of hair behind her ears. "In a few minutes, my folks are going to come barging through the door."

Her wide eyes blinked at me. "Why?"

"To yell at us," I said simply.

Emma shook her head. "But why, Tom?"

I sighed, not knowing where to begin explaining it to her. "Check your phone. I'll start the coffee."

"But—"

"Check your phone," I repeated before planting a kiss on her temple and striding toward the kitchen.

By the time I returned with the two steaming mugs, Emma was leaning back against the headboard with her hair pulled back into a messy bun and her phone cradled in both her hands.

"Derik kept his promise," was all she muttered as I set the coffee down on the bedside table.

I lifted my eyebrows in agreement as I checked my watch.

He certainly had. The photo of us together had gone viral overnight, as had Emma's quote.

The second I read her words, I knew I had been wrong—Emma's dress was not the only thing Cynthia would approve of, though she may never admit it. My sister would, however, make sure Emma's words became the foundation's new unofficial tagline:

Legacy Works helps people—whoever they are, wherever they are. Simple as that.

It was gold so far as my sister was concerned: short and catchy, on brand, and from the mouth of an (unwittingly) up-and-coming influencer to boot.

"They seem really mad," Emma whispered as she dragged her finger across her phone's screen to scroll down.

"Christ, Ems, don't read the comments!" I tried to grab her phone but she held on firmly.

"I should know what they're saying about me!" She rounded.

"No," I countered as I held up her coffee for her to take. "You shouldn't. They're just a bunch of trolls."

She accepted the mug, but still held fast to her phone. "They're not all trolls. Some of them are reporters... genuine reporters, and they're talking about... me."