Page 41 of The Image of You

I swallowed the instant flame of jealousy I felt at the thought of her being in his place with him, alone. My voice was tight when I spoke. “He drove you here?”

“No, I took a cab. I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“I said I’d wait for you.” I stroked my thumbs under her eyes, not liking the faint shadows that seemed to be there all the time. “Did you get any rest today?”

“A couple hours.”

“You’re sleeping in tomorrow.” If she wasn’t going to look after herself, I fucking would.

“I have brunch with my parents.”

“Cancel.”

“I—”

“You need your sleep.” I hated the fact that she always seemed to put herself, and her needs, last.

“I can’t sleep all day, Adam.”

“You could if you stayed here.”

“I have to work tomorrow night.”

“Why?”

“I traded shifts.”

“You can stay here until you have to go.”

She picked up the skirt of her gown, letting it fall back down in waves of brilliant orange and gold. “And go to work in this?”

I lifted her off the counter. “Let me get you some clothes, and we’ll go to bed. You can plug in your phone and call to say you’re not coming. I’ll take you home early enough you can change before work.”

“I have to go. Especially after tonight.”

I scowled as I searched the cupboard, grabbing her a T-shirt and some boxers that were too small on me now. At least they wouldn’t fall off her when she moved—not that I’d object to that.

“Are you in that much trouble for wearing a pretty gown? Do they object to you looking different from all the bland women who were there this evening?” I complained. “It was like a fucking Stepford wife meeting.”

I thought she’d agree, maybe laugh at my assessment. What I didn’t expect were the words that came out of her mouth.

“No. I have to go and talk to them. I want them to hear the news from me.”

“What news?”

She drew in a deep breath, taking the clothes from my hands. “I told Bradley I couldn’t do this anymore. I–I broke up with my fake boyfriend.”

Then she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me stunned.

* * *

I paced as I waited, anxious. I needed to know why she “broke up” with Bradley.

Everything in me prayed it was because she had the same intense draw to me as I had to her—that she didn’t want anyone in her life except me, fake or otherwise.

She came out of the bathroom, looking adorable in my old shirt. It was torn and tattered, the material thin, showing off her curves.

“I can give you a better shirt.”