‘He was awesome in bed,’ I say with a sigh. ‘I’ll miss that.’
‘Relationships have to be more than good times in bed. And more good times than bad, come to that.’
‘What she said,’ adds Hills. ‘I like my men to be good in the kitchen, too.’
‘He was good in the kitchen. That one time. Really fucking good.’ Elbow on the table now, I prop my chin on my fist as I sigh.
‘He cooks?’ Paisley tilts her head enquiringly.
‘Not that I know of. Kitchen fucking on the other hand... ’
‘Right,’ she replies. ‘When he turned up dressed like Mellors.’
‘All sweaty and dirty. And let me tell you, he really does know how to handle a hoe.’
Paisley sniggers as Hills screeches, ‘He role plays in the bedroom? And you let him get away?’
‘Don’t try to make my sex life seem special,’ I say, pointing my finger his way. ‘Not when you’re dating a man who’s comfortable wearing red sequins. And Flynn looks like Henry Cavill!’
‘Honey, I think it’s time to stop your drink.’
‘I had the best orgasm in months, right there in my kitchen. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat there again.’
‘Me either,’ replies Hills with a queasy look.
‘I’m going tosmashSophia’s face when I see her next!’ I might not ever orgasm again.God, what a depressing thought.
‘Why? She didn’t have sex in your kitchen, too, did she?’ Hills asks.
‘Have you not paid attention to anything I’ve had to say?’ I know it’s after hours—that he’s no longer on the clock but come the fuck on! Pay attention to your boss in her hour of need, please.
‘Of course I’ve listened,’ he says, counting items on his fingers with an air of supreme disinterest. ‘You shagged in the kitchen. You’re drunk. And you found a video on your new boyfriend’s phone of someone who may or may not be him—’
‘What?’
‘That’s the way it looks to me,’ he answers with a shrug. ‘But I still don’t know what Sophia has to do with it.’
‘Because she’s the one on the recording,’ Paisley answers for me. I can’t answer for the blood pounding painfully between my ears.
‘Oh. Really?’ He takes a mouthful of his mangotini looking thoroughly unconvinced. ‘Have you spoken to her about it?’
‘She’s not answering her phone,’ I growl through gritted teeth.
‘Shall I call her now?’ He picks up his phone from the table. ‘I spoke to her yesterday. I must say, it doesn’t seem likely,’ he says, swapping his glass for his phone at the same moment I try to snatch it from his hand. But Paisley is quicker and even Hills complains. ‘Watch it! That’s a new phone!’
The phone disappears under the table before she takes both my hands in hers.
‘Not now,’ she cautions. ‘Not when you’re overwrought and a little drunk.’ Smashed. I’m totally smashed. ‘Tomorrow,’ she adds, her firm gaze sliding to Hills. ‘Tomorrow, we do this together.’
~*~
Not satisfied with punishing me by sending me the hangover from hell, the universe fills the sky with brilliant sunshine the following day. Birds sing, bees buzz, and blossom blows in the breeze. Meanwhile, I sit in my office in the studio, wrapped in a large cardigan and feeling as attractive as a hungover Ebenezer Scrooge. With the flu.
Strangely enough, I get three visitors, too.
The first is Paisley. There’s nothing for her to do here, and she isn’t scheduled to work today. Yet she insists she’s inventorying, which isn’t even her job.I mean, what’s she counting? Anal beads?The truth behind the excuse is that she’s my support network of one. She wants to be here when Hillary turns up with his phone and Sophia’s number.
Maybe I should’ve just called Sophia last night, drunk or not.
