I heard the click of a light being turned off. Sleep quickly swept me into its arms, and I didn’t have the energy to fight it.
A rough, calloused hand brushed the hair out of my face. Then, soft lips brushed a gentle kiss over my forehead. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’
‘Oh, god,' I choked out as the memory of George wiping off my makeup, cradling my head between his palms, had my skin flushing bright red with embarrassment. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to sink into his hold and let him take care of me. I cinched my eyes shut, hoping to erase the memory of being so helpless.
Drunk Rosie was really fucking pathetic.
‘Everything okay?’ Fallon asked cautiously.
Choosing not to focus on the fact that George had seen me naked and been thoughtful enough not to leave my dress rumpled on the floor, I flopped back down into bed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
‘I forgot you were away. It was a momentary lapse in judgement.’
‘You’ve had a lot of those recently,’ came Fallon’s disgruntled reply.
I bristled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
A sigh, heavy with the weight of unexpressed feelings, echoed out of her. ‘This is the eighth night in a row you’ve gone out. Your liver must be pure tequila at this point.’
Even the thought of alcohol had my stomach threatening mutiny. She’d known about my string of nights out because I shared my location with her. Until last night when I’d turnedit off. She must have been spying on me while she was away. Not that I cared. I’d do the same if she weren’t around. But I knew if she looked at the app and saw the nightclub I’d went to, she’d have called me in a panic. Hence why I’d made the judgement call to switch it off.
‘Yeah, well, I think last night effectively ended my relationship with Jose.’
‘Uh, huh.’ She clearly didn’t believe me for a moment.
‘Your judgement, whilst I’ll admit might be warranted, is not appreciated. I am a grown woman.’
Fallon barked out a harsh laugh. ‘That argument would be a lot stronger if you didn’t sound like a five-pack-a-day smoker right now.’
‘Can you please stop making well-reasoned points? I feel sick.’ I drew the duvet up past my chin until it covered my head. In the darkness, the pain in my skull eased.
‘You broke the system. We put it in place for a reason, and it’s been working until you decided to go rogue,’ Fallon said, her voice betraying her worry. A stab of guilt lanced through my chest. ‘You’re acting like I walked up and spat in the King's face.’
‘This is much worse,’ she went on, getting more animated the longer she spoke. ‘Rosie, you could have been hurt or kidnapped, and I would have no clue where you were. A crazed serial killer could have been lying in wait, ready to drug your drink, or?—’
‘Oh, tell me more. This serial killer, is he hot?’ I said.
‘Not. Funny.’
‘I can name twelve books where that exact thing happened to all the main characters.’
‘And they were brutally murdered?’
I paused, thinking over all the dark romances I’d read recently. My flat was lined with bookshelves, and each one stuffed with romance books. I started the collection when Iwas a teenager and kept it going. So now, my modest flat was nearly full to bursting. The books I gravitated towards were dark romances. The darker, the better, in my humble opinion. Where red flags weren’t a turn-off but a huge turn-on. Now that Fallon mentioned it, one of my favourite authors just released a book where the main character fell in love with a serial killer. However, I didn’t see how this would help me convince Fallon that I was perfectly okay.
I considered it for a moment. ‘Actually, they usually end up fucking. It’s hot. But that’s not really helping make my case.’
‘And what is your case? Cause I still have pent-up yelling energy.’
Shuffling out from under my duvet, I said, ‘Please don’t. My head is hanging on by a thread. And my case is—oh, I can’t fucking remember.’ I needed caffeine and carbs, the only surefire way to assuage this raging hangover. ‘Babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. Youknowthat.’
There was a short but uncomfortable pause. ‘I’m worried about you.’
The concern in her tone made me want to burrow back down under the blankets. ‘Why? Last night aside. I’m fine.’ Why did saying you were “fine” automatically make it sound like you were the furthest thing from it?
‘Rosie.’ I had a feeling that whatever she was about to say, I wasn’t going to like it. ‘Your phobia of commitment has reached a new level recently. You barely talk to a guy before he’s falling over his dick to follow you home.’
‘I believe that’s called efficiency,’ I replied, my tone bordering on defensive. ‘And excuse me, but I’m not commitment phobic; it’s a choice.’
