Well.
I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do with this information. I return my attention to Ethan, forcing my features into a pleasant expression when our server returns with our drinks.
“Why don’t we enjoy our honeymoon?” I say with a tight smile. “Andthenfigure out our next steps.”
Lifting his glass, he looks steadily into my eyes. My stomach does a little flip. “That works for me.”
“That doesnotwork for me.”He scrubs his hand down his face. “That is afelony, Barbie.”
“I was just joking,” I say. “I paid attention to the compliance videos. I’ve seen the emails from HR. Obviously, insider trading is off the table. You wouldn’t last in prison, and I would look terrible in orange.”
He lets out a muted sigh and pinches his nose.
“Here’s an idea,” I say, as Bell’s suggestion to embark on a fruity drink journey rings in my head. “What if we just blow off the conference as payback?—”
“And risk our jobs?” he asks. “No. Tomorrow morning, we should corner Ed and ask him why he’s giving us mixed signals.”
“I mean, isn’t the answer obvious? Higher-ups and poor management,” I mutter. “They go hand-in-hand like peanut butter and jelly.”
He chuckles and lifts his head, only to grunt a split second later. “Fuck. I think the hot tub wore off.”
A flicker of guilt threads through my chest. “Okay, you can have the bed tonight.” My bottom lip almost quivers. “I’ll take”—my gaze goes directly to the couch cushion that’s been flipped over—“the floor.”
Ethan brings his hand to his neck. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can share the bed.”
My line of sight shifts to the fluffy pillows and luxurious sheets. Way superior to the carpeted floor. No contest. “I don’t know, Ethan. Don’t you think we’re moving a little too fast?”
“Well, we are newlyweds,” he says dryly. “It’ll be fine. I can behave.Canyou?”
I level him with the most withering glare I can muster. “Of course, I can behave. I’d promise tonever, ever, evertouch you, but I’d hate to crush your dreams.”
He makes a hacking sound, then thumps his chest, before casting a glance over my head. Realization creeps in, and my mouth parts in shock.
“Wait, have?—”
“I’ll take the left side; you can have the right.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Let me get ready for bed, and then the bathroom’s all yours.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I gasp, but he’s already hustling for his suitcase. “Ethan, whatkindof dream?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Was I hot in it? Tell me I was hot. Ooh. Wait. What was I wearing?—”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmurs, then gives me a blank stare. “Barbie, you don’t have to fish for compliments. We both know you’re hotter than a summer day, regardless of what you wear.”
My face goes warm. Not as blazing as a summer day, but quite warm like a sunny afternoon, nevertheless. “Oh.” I pause. “Follow-up question. Was I any good while we were going at it in your dream?”
He groans. “Just for that, you’re getting one less scoop of pistachio ice cream.”
“So weweregoing at it in your dream.”
“Make it two less scoops.”
10
ETHAN
THURSDAY, JULY 17TH
