CHAPTER 25

Robert's Point-of-View

If I had to rank my top ten best days of my life, the last three would be number one, two, and three. No questions asked.

I finally felt like my life was heading in the right direction.

That's why I can't bear to tell Emma the horrid news that I have kept from her the last month and a half. Sure, I could have told her when I first found out, but a month ago, I wasn't quite sure I'd still be with her. But now I was absolutely confident that there was no one else I'd rather be with.

The news I had received devastated me; I couldn't imagine how Emma would feel. I tried to forget about it; I pushed it to the very back of my mind and I even convinced myself that it wasn't happening.

But now it was a reality. Emma was going to utterly hate me when I tell her. I was leaving for Italy for two, maybe three, months to film the second movie, New Moon.

"Emma, can we talk?" I asked her as we were watching television in my apartment. Emma basically lived in my apartment now. She even brought over some clothes and a spare toothbrush just in case she spent the night, which seemed like almost every night this past week.

"Mmm. I don't want to talk," she replied seductively as she leaned over and closed the gap between our lips.

"Emma," I spoke between kisses, but she never stopped. "Emma," I pulled away. "I mean it."

Emma's bright smile faded into a thin straight line. "What is it?" she asked frightened. "What's the matter?"

I scooted closer to her on the couch and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "Nothing is wrong. We just need to talk about something. Something I should have told you a while ago."

She looked terribly worried. I couldn't let her wonder for any longer.

"You know I am an actor," I stated slowly so she could take it all in.

Emma nodded.

"Well, as an actor, we are given certain jobs that may be filmed somewhat far away," I continued.

"How far?" she asked in a trembling voice. She knew exactly what was coming. "How long?" Her face was saddened; I couldn't stand to see her distress.

I cleared my throat. "Italy," I began. "For three months." I took her hand in mine and tried to get her to look at me, but her focus remained on our two hands interlocked.

"When?" she asked monotonously. "When do you leave?"

This was going to be the hardest part. "Tomorrow," I answered, disgusted with myself and the situation in its entirety.