My fake fiancee. (BWWM)

||Sixty Two||

Hey besties...  Been a couple of days. Hope y'all doing okay. Also hope y'all will love this chapter. Idk how relevant this Miley Cyrus song is to the chapter, but I've had ot on repeat while writing this.so here you go.

Don't forget to vote and comment, tell me what you think of the story so far so i know how i did. Thank you for the new followers.

Morning came ealier than I expected, Raffael shaking me, trying to wake me up. He signed when I pulled the covers over myself for the who knows how many times and got out of bed. Next thing I know, the covers are pulled away and water is thrown on my face. “What the hell!” I growl, my eyes snapping open and glaring at the very guilty Raffael who had a glass in his hand. He grinned, “get your ass up, you have two hours till the interview and you have to be there at least thirty minutes or so before.” He walked away saying he was going to make breakfast while I got ready. I luckly jumped into action after that, took a quick shower, lotioned up and slip into my blouse and jeans all in less than twenty minutes. I finished off by spraying my perfume then walked out in my sandals.
Raffael filled a plate with scrambled eggs and toast and a glass of orange juice then handed it to me. I took my time checking him out, he was  showered and dressed, guess he took a shower in the guest bathroom. We ate quickly then headed out, thankfully, he had borrowed one of his father’s cars which had been delivered to my drive way the previous evening, so we had a means of transport. We drove through the city, taking our time, I smiled, looking out the window. Even with the nerves I had for this interview, I had never done an interview before, either way I was content with Raffael’s hand laced with mine on my lap as he drove us to the studio.
He parked in the visitors parking lot and rested back, his hand still in mine, he squeezed, “nervous, baby?” I squeezed back, and turned to look at him, “a little bit, yeah.” Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those shows that had an audience, so I knew I’d be okay. We sat there for a while, none of us talking, Raffael was letting me do the breathing exercises on my own, at my own pace to keep my anxiety at bay and I was grateful. Finally when I assured him, I was ready to go, he got out and jogged to my side and opened the door for me, laced his hand with mine and walked me to the building. We were met by a Christy, she was stationed to direct me, us, to the changing room of sorts to refresh and get my make up set before the interview. I sat patiently, while the make up artist fixed my make up. Then we were led to the recording room. And we took the empty seats with the camera crew waiting for my participation part in the show. The nerves were kicking in, in a good way. When the show went on a break, I was instructed on where to sit at the glass table with the gang. Raffael walked with me, exchanged greetings with the three hosts then pulled my seat for me, kissed my forehead and told me, I got this before joining the camera crew again. I was blushing hard when they cooed at us. Justin was checking out Raffael’s ass as he walked away and whistled, “girl, your man got a fine ass!” He sure does, my subconscious chimed in. I giggled and slapped his arm playfully, “you can look but you can’t touch!”  I felt more at ease with them.
The producer shouted that we were back Live in ten seconds, I closed my eyes for one and prayed for calm. Then I smiled at the camera. “Welcome back! Today with us we have famous writer, Emilliana Miller!” Morgan announced, and the clapping sound was heard around the room. “So tell us, Em, can I call you Em?” Justin started and I grinned, nooding, “sure.” “So tell us, you and vogue magazine with Raffael Nardelli, how did that happen?” He asked. On one of the screens in the room , a picture of Raffael and I lay, myself standing on the beach, naked like the day I was born, holding two big pineapples that did the job to cover my breasts. And Raffael was standing behind me in a pair of black swimshorts that could easily pass for boxers, a triangular cut melon in his right hand, was over my sex, covering my vagina, his left arm around me, both of us had smiles lighting up our faces. I blushed at the memory of that photoshoot or rather what happened after.
“That get up was not my idea,” I flushed. They laughed, Justin raising his eye brow, “what is going on between you and the rookie player? Over the past year, there were pictures of the two of you together a couple of times, and the one video that circulated when that reporter made a comment about you and Raffael handled that. Not forgetting, what went down during the Superbowl.” I smiled in Raffael’s directon, and he was grinning back at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he winked at me, then I looked back at Justin, “Raffael and I are in a relationship, yeah,” I grinned, I was so proud to call him my man. Thankfully the conversation took a turn cause I did not want to talk about Raffy and I, I just prefer that part of my life to be alittle private. “Before we go to this new book, lets talk about Silent Love for a second,” Morgan said and I nodded. “What was your inspiration? I mean you aren’t impaired or anything, how did you know how to write it the way you did?” she asked. I gave the an honest answer, “Though one of the characters is actually deaf, the story isn’t on literal silence and loving someone who is deaf and dumb , although yes, you could see it that way, it is deeper than that.” They nodded and I took that as a chance to go on, “with this relationship, there’s less of affirmation and the other languages of love are more pronounced because that’s how the person will know for sure you love them, not all about saying  “I love you” it’s the giving and receiving of gifts, the sparks they feel when they touch,  the acts of service and spending quality time with your significant other. With all these four love languages, you don’t need to speak for the person to know how much you mean to them. That’s how I pictured it. But that’s my perspective.”
For some reason, I just had to glance at Raffael to know what he was thinking about what I said and that’s exactly what I did. He had a soft smile, his eyes shining with pride. I was glad. They made their comments on what I said, thinking in a different perspective. Before talking about my new book. It talked about my struggles with mental illnesses since I was a little girl and how my support system has helped me cope, how I fell back into the dark hole after I was better for days and how I’ve overcome it. What I used and still use to help me cope and all of that.  
At the end of the interview, it was the end of the show, so we stayed around abit and shared a glass of wine, talking about the success of the interview and I signed their copies together with other people who worked in the building who had either of my books that wanted a copy or autograph. Raffael took pictures of me and the Daily Pop crew and another one of all of us in it before posting it on is instagram, it was bound to get a high rating.
Afterwards I had book signing and selling, arranged by the studio and we did that for the rest of the afternoon. Some women only came to the booth to have a close glimpse at Raffael or take pictures with him, but for that to happen, they needed a book, so hey, he was marketing my books. I was exhausted by the time Raffael was driving back to the apartment. He was insisting that both our families would understand and we’d celebrate the interview the next day but I refused, took a power nap of one hour, jumped in the shower right after I woke up, I felt refreshed and dressed up before we left to his parent’s house. Immediately we were greeted warmly by everyone, congratulating me on the interview, I did well and I kept my shit together. My mama hugged me tight, her voive cracked somewhat in the middle, “I’m so proud of you baby, of all of your accomplishments and just being here with us, like this.” I tightened my arms around her, “thank you mama!” I watched as Raffael walked outside with my father and brother. I shrugged, probably going to talk football, and joined the women by the livingroom, Aurora handing me a glass of wine.