Jane: I needed to talk to you. I needed to tell you something that happened, but this is what you gave me when I needed you most.
Jane: So, Dex Vanstone, you did EVERYTHING WRONG.
Chapter 6
The blaring sound of alarms blasts though my head.
I flail around, trying to sit up, and realize my body is icy cold and way too heavy. My arms thrash up and splash down, spraying cold wetness everywhere. The alarm is still ringing out, rattling my skull against my brain. My eyes shoot open. I’m in my bathtub. The once warm soapy water is now a chilly cask of my severely pruned body. I bolt up, sloshing water everywhere, and grab a towel with trembling fingers. My bones feel frozen.
I wrap the towel around me and try to lift my leg up and over the edge of the tub. My limbs are stiff and achy. My hands slap at my alarm until it quiets, the abrupt silence ringing in my ears.
I pull all the towels out of the closet and wrap them around my head and shoulders. My ass hits the covered toilet seat, and I sit for a minute, trying to calm the shivers that wrack through my shoulders, and the uncontrollable chatter of my teeth.
Last night I hadn’t been able to sleep, too nervous and anxious to see Dex for the first time in three weeks. My plan was a relaxing hot bath, something to ease the tension of my tight muscles and my over-imaginative thoughts. I ran the bath at midnight.
Now it’s seven o’clock in the morning. I was aiming for a restful night, and a bright-eyed, I’m-totally-over-you demeanor, with a killer outfit—so dirty-librarian sexy—it would make a grown man (insert Dex here) drool.
Pulling out my hair dryer, I plug it in and stand in front of the mirror, hoping the heat will get me warmer. I’m startled by my own appearance. My lips are blue, my face so pale it seems translucent. How the hell am I going to stand in front of Dex and let him see me like this? How the hell is he going to curse the day he let me go without a fight, when I resemble a corpse?
I turn on the blow dryer and thaw under its heat, until my hair is pin straight and silky and the chill melts away from my bones. There’s a bit more color in my face when I’m finished, my lips now purplish, turning pinker by the minute.
Walking stiffly, I stumble my way to my bedroom and throw the towels off as soon as I’m through the door.
My arms can’t move fast enough to pull on clothes. The racy pencil shirt I planned to wear is too big, wrinkling all around me, bunching up with extra material in the front. It makes me look like I have two asses. This fit me perfectly last month when I purchased it. I swap the skirt for a pair of skinny-fit black slacks that were Julia’s size and never seemed to fit me right.
They fit perfectly now, hugging my hips and thighs and ass exquisitely. I squint at the mirror in disbelief. I guess I finally found a diet that works well for me.Heartbreak. Lots of wine, tears, and nibbles of stale pizza crust.
I pull on a camisole and a tight, button-up white shirt that accentuates the shape of my breasts, and shiver. I need a hot cup of coffee or tea, it’s possibly the only thing that will be able to warm up my insides at this point. Slipping on a pair of black heeled boots, I traipse into my kitchen and make myself a cup of hot tea.
Then another, and another, until my insides are fully defrosted and my limbs loosen enough to put my face on without blinding myself with my mascara.
When I’m all put together androom temperature, I knock on Julia’s door. She swings her door open and her eyes hit her hairline. “Wow, you look fantastic.”
“Is it too much?” I ask.
“No way, that’s how we’re supposed to dress. You just never do unless we have meetings.”
“If anyone asks, I’ll say I have an interview with some fashion model or something.”
I walk into her apartment to let her finish getting ready. “Are you dressing for someone special? Nate, maybe? What happened with him when I left you guys Saturday night?”
“Nothing,” I sigh. “Jules, I told you, me and Nate, we don’t work as a thing.”
She stops stuffing things into her purse to look at me. “You weren’t supposed to be building a thing. You were supposed to be screwing Dex out of your brain.”
“Well, that definitely didn’t happen. And Dex will be at work today so,” I say, twirling around.
“So?” she says, looking in a small compact mirror to apply her color to her lips.
“Do you think he’ll regret—”
“Regret what? Getting strange pussy after you both broke up? No, Jane. I don’t.”
Aggravation has me lurching for the front door. This conversation is closed, my heart can’t take any more of herencouraging speechestoday.
Julia grabs her purse and follows me out of her apartment and through the hallway. When we step out of our building, it’s pouring, and both of us groan. I’m going to end up getting to work looking like a drowned rat.
“Let’s just get a cab,” she says, waving her arm toward the street traffic, but never stepping foot out from the cover of our building’s awning.
