Sage’s cheeks turn pink. “Actually, if you don’t mind being objectified on the internet, can I record you like that?”
Kai slaps a hand on Reese’s shoulder and shakes him lightly. “There you go, buddy. Your dream come true.”
“Your dream is to be objectified?” Sage asks, amused.
“Actually, my dream is to be a swimsuit model, but this is close enough.”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious. There’s so much I need to learn about these guys, and it’ll probably take years. I wonder if Lavinia knows them all very well. Who am I kidding? She probably knows everything, right down to their astrological signs. My girl likes to know her friends very well.
There’s a pressure in my chest which tells me something is very off. I’m too attached and there’s a possibility Lavinia isn’t. I’m her rebound relationship, technically. How many of those last? How many accidental marriages last? I’m too much of apessimist to think Lavinia and I will somehow be the exception, no matter how much I want her to stay with me.
FORTY-EIGHT
LAVINIA
Being sick is the worst. I thought being heartbroken was the worst, but being sick takes the cake and eats it too. The idea of eating has my stomach roiling again. At least, I haven’t thrown up in three hours, maybe because there’s no food in my body to expel.
I’m too hot and too cold as I lie star fished on the bed, half my body covered with a blanket. It’s the most comfortable position I’ve found since I woke up two nights ago, puking. At this point, it’s starting to feel like I’ve literally puked my guts out.
Jules comes into the room, her phone pressed to her ear. “Yes, she’s right here.”
Weak hope blooms inside my chest that it’s Roman again. Hearing his voice was like a soothing balm to my soul, I almost sobbed on the phone.
“It’s your Mom,” Jules says, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the bed beside me.
“Mommy,” I sob.
“Oh, baby,” Mom croons. “You sound terrible. Have you taken cold medicine? Drinking plenty of fluids? Let me look up your address and I’m going to send you a care package. Howabout Daddy and I come up to New York? Would you like that? Let me find him. Aiden…”
My mother’s voice trails off as she goes in search of my father. My input isn’t required. I look at Jules, not having the energy to roll my eyes. It’s brief, but there’s a wistful look on her face, and I reach forward, brushing the tips of my fingers against her thigh.
I’ve always relied on my family for their support, and I can’t imagine not having it. Either one or both parents showed up to Drew and my games in high school and college. Both were present for each Olympic game which won me a medal and supported me in my career with the PWHL. They have always been the loudest and proudest parents.
People like Jules and Roman didn’t have that. They didn’t have parents showing up for them and supporting their endeavors and their choices. Hell, Jules has to hide her career because writing gives her peace and if she tells her parents, it’ll quickly become something toxic. They’re stronger than I can ever be because in many ways, I’ve never needed to be strong on my own.
Jules smiles at me and says, “What are the chances they actually come here?”
“I’d say in the high nineties.”
The doorbell rings and Jules and I both exchange surprised glances. It’s a little past five and it’s already dark outside. We’re in a very fancy apartment building in the Upper West Side.
It’s an apartment owned by one of the execs of the beauty brand for which I did the ad, and he uses it for ‘out of town guests’, which Jules thinks is code word for his sexual partners. He was more than happy to let us use it for the week.
“Do you think they’re already here?” Jules whispers.
“No, that’s too crazy for even my parents.” It’s the flu, and I have Jules here. My mother will calm down once she’s talked tomy father and he’s explained to her that flying out here will be for nothing.
“Axe murderer?”
I grip the bedsheets, rolling over in bed and kneeling up. My head swims and I start to fall, but Jules quickly grabs me, holding me steady.
“What are you doing?” She demands.
“I’m not going to let you get killed by yourself.”
Her face softens even as she shakes her head. I get out of bed and wrap the blanket around me like a cape. I clutch her phone with one hand and wrap the other around her arm as we shuffle out of my room and into the living room.
“We have 911 on the phone,” Jules says loudly. “The police are on the way so if you’re here to kill us, you better run now.”
