"Did I not mention the leg humping?"
"You're not the first and you won't be the last," she said with a wave of her hand. "What I'd like to know is why you can't embrace the honesty and see if you have as much fun on his leg today as you did last night."
"I'm very busy being dead," I said. "I don't see any time in my schedule to revisit that horror."
"Okay but really," she said. "Why can't you have a fling with him?"
I leaned back against the headboard and sipped my water. My belly didn't clench or gurgle like it intended to reject the water, and that was fantastic news. "Because what then?" I replied. "We just have sex and then go our separate ways?"
"Yes, I do it at least once a week with multiple people. I promise, it's fine."
"You haven't been in love with those people since you were fifteen," I cried.
"Ahhh. Now we're getting somewhere."
"That's not what I meant. I just—it's not as easy as a fling."
"Of course it isn't." She said this like she'd been waiting for me to figure it out all along. "But that isn't a good enough reason to play dead."
I motioned to my towel shawl and my bloodless face. "I can't imagine why you'd think I'm playing."
"Ha. You're hilarious." She lifted her mug in salute. "Stop being ashamed. Start being honest with your fiancé."
"Fake fiancé," I added.
Jamie gave me a wide, toothy grin. "We'll see about that, baby girl."
chapter thirty-three
Audrey
Today's vocabulary word: conspire
I madeit out of the room and all the way to the restaurant, and it only took me a sluggish hour. Most of that time I'd spent with my hands pressed to my face as my cheeks flamed with shame from last night's antics, but an hour just the same.
Janet had better be prepared to face me. I had no intention of laughing at whichever quippy quote she had on her t-shirt today or grabbing every stray thread of conversation with both hands. She was going to get a tight-lipped smile and a brief hug from me, and that would be it.
I watched as crystals of brown sugar dissolved into my oatmeal and swirled my spoon through to mix it in. I didn't like oatmeal very much but I could count on it to settle my belly. That, and the hotel's breakfast menu was made up of digestive fireballs. It was like they wanted to kill all the girls with bad bellies.
What I really wanted was a basic breakfast sandwich and some coffee. A flat white or a café au lait would knock out this pest of a headache and it would probably give me a nice energyboost too. But when the troll was all riled up, grease and caffeine only made matters worse. I'd have to get by on toast, oatmeal, and tea today.
I went back to stirring the oatmeal and wondering if any of the people seated around me had witnessed my impromptu dance performance in the halls last night. It was fine. I always did well on stage. They probably saw my underwear, if I pulled off the turns and jumps correctly, but that was the least of my shame.
Then Jude dropped into the chair across from me, his collar open at his throat and cuffs rolled to his elbows. His color was high from whichever activities had taken more than two hours out of his morning, his hair was still shower damp, and he was wearing his glasses again.
"Glasses in the daytime," I said. "That's new."
That's new?What the hell was wrong with me? God, what I wouldn't give to transform into a little mouse and disappear right now.
"Yeah. A little bleary today. I didn't sleep much last night." He shrugged, adding, "I was worried about you sneaking out or jumping off the balcony."
Heat crawled up my neck. "I'm sorry about—well, everything. And, you know. Attacking you. Repeatedly."
He swiped a piece of toast from my plate. "The only problem was that I didn't know if you actually wanted it."
I stared down at the napkin on my lap. I wasn't prepared for him to grab that matter by the throat just yet. "Still, I…fondled you and I didn't take no for an answer and that wasn't okay."
"You were drugged. By my mother," he said around a bite of toast. "Fuck, I'm the one who should be apologizing here."
