Unable to resist, I pull the shirt out of her bag and drag it over my head. Just knowing Amelia wore it thismorning feeds the obsessed monster inside me and calms my soul. Maybe I can get her to walk around in my shirts for a few minutes every morning before I get dressed…
I meet up with my parents to play croquet, then hit the gym and sauna for about an hour. As I’m waiting for the elevator with Amelia’s favorite shirt hanging around my neck, I cringe when I hear Tiffany’s voice.
“Oh, Zander, there you are. You have to see my nails, they’re the most beautiful shade of green!”
“I’ve told you before, Tiffany, I hate when you call me that.”
“I don’t know why. It sounds so much sexier than Alex.” She follows me into the elevator. When she doesn’t press a button before it starts to move, I look at her.
“Are you going somewhere other than your room?”
“I thought maybe I’d go up to yours.” She trails a pointy green fingertip down my chest. I grab her wrist and push her hand away.
“Knock it off. It’s not happening.”
She pouts and she drops her gaze from my eyes, and I see it narrow. I look down. The beginning of my tattoo is visible, but only the first letter.
“When did you get a tattoo, Zander? Is that a name? You got a woman’s name on your chest?” She sneers at me, her voice going shrill.
“Not sure what business it is of yours, Tiffany.”
“God, you sound like that bitch our daughter is friends with. I swear, that girl is the bane of my existence. She didn’t sleep in her room last night, Zander. I don’t know who she was with, but that’s just a waste of your hard-earned money.”
I see red. She just called my Amelia a bitch, judged her, ratted her out like a jealous middle schooler, and tried to use my money to prove some point.
“Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes!” she cries, misunderstanding me. “My room is right next to hers, and I didn’t hear her come in all night long. And she didn’t deny it when I confronted her in the nail salon.”
“You do realize I’m paying for every single room in this hotel, right? Many of them are empty. And it’s a wedding. I’m going to guess quite a few people will be sleeping in someone else’s room tonight. I hope they all enjoy themselves.”
“Zander—”
The elevator comes to a stop on the top floor. I get off and walk away, ignoring Tiffany as she calls after me. She screeches something about scratches down my back, and I really wish I had put the shirt back on. Not because I’m embarrassed by the marks. Fuck, I’ll wear them like badges of honor because Amelia made them. I just hate giving Tiffany anything she might see as ammunition.
If it wasn’t my daughter’s wedding day, and if I didn’t have to deal with Tiffany for another few days, I probably would have told her to go fuck herself or flipped her off. I really fucking wanted to, but for now, I need to keep the peace.
Tomorrow might be a different story, though.
I take a shower and put on some jeans and a clean T-shirt just before Amelia walks in the door.
“Do you think there’s time for a power nap before lunch?” she asks me with a smile.
“Doubtful, since there’s hair, makeup, and photos still to do after lunch. Can’t push lunch back too far.”
“Damn.” She starts digging through her bag. “Hey, where’s my shirt?”
“Uh, I wore it to the gym, and it got sweaty,” I admit, sure my cheeks are turning pink like they did earlier when she offered to spit in my coffee. The woman flusters me in the best ways.
She turns to me, her brow furrowed. “You stole it back?”
“I borrowed it.”
“There’s fifteen clean ones exactly like it in your bag. I know because I counted them. You overpack worse than I do, by the way. So why did you steal mine?”
“There’s fourteen clean ones at the moment. It does not count as stealing, it’s still yours. And do I have to remind you just how obsessed I am with you?”
She cocks her head. “Yes. I’m needy.”
