Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“What’s going on?” she whispered. “Tell me everything. And there are things to tell, I bet. There was a paparazzi picture of you guys in Greece. It looked like Alex was half-hugging you, half-grabbing your ass.”
Oh, shit.
I mentally browsed through everything that had gone down in Athens. The guys had wanted to go sightseeing, and I’d had to watch Alex extra carefully, because apparently, he used to party in London with some drug dealer who’d moved to Greece, and Blake was on edge about it. I’d worn a polka-dot blue dress and a scarlet smile that day. The weather had been glorious. We’d admired the ancient ruins with a bunch of starstruck tourists from Japan and Germany, taking pictures of the Parthenon, when Alex had slid his hand over my butt when everyone else was walking ahead of us, listening to the tour guide, and pressed his mouth to my ear.
The Parthenon was the temple they’d built for their goddess, Athena, the tour guide explained. Athena was the symbol of arts and freedom.
“Two things you remind me of.” Alex’s lips had dragged to my neck, his voice gruff with cigarette and lust. “But tonight, darlin’, you’ll be the one to call me god.”
He’d dropped the “G” in ‘darling.’ For me.
“That’s corny as hell.”
“I like corn. Corn is good. And we’re so hot we could make popcorn.”
“Jesus, Alex!” I’d laughed.
“See? I haven’t even touched you properly, and you’re already half-religious.”
I’d been so happy at that moment, which only reminded me how unhappy I was now when my face heated and Nat’s smile widened.
“Holy hell, Indie! You’re sleeping with a rock star. My inner slut is cheering for you. Or should I say my former slut? I think I’m still her. I’m just reining in on that shit since I’m married and have a kid and all.”
Another arrow of sorrow shot to my heart. Nat deserved so much more than Craig was giving her. Had she brought the subject up a few hours ago, I might have felt braver. Safer. Like it didn’t matter at all that Alex was looking forward to Paris so he could pursue his former flame.
“It’s not like that.” I pulled a lock of my blue hair and fingered the ends, my eyes concentrating hard on them instead of on my sister-in-law.
“What’s it like then?” I heard her grin.
“It’s really casual. He’s still in love with his ex.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Of course not.”
“So, why the long face?”
Because I’m a liar, just like him.
“I should probably end it,” I said aloud, making the idea real and scary. Not that I was in love with him, or even needed him. But he was the one thing in my life that made me feel good, and the list of things that made me feel that way wasn’t very long.
“Maybe you should, but you definitely won’t,” Nat said, and I looked up to see her expression, which turned from amused to worried. “Remember, Indie. Three months. Enjoy what’s there, and leave it at that.”
Easier said than done. I changed the subject, and we ended up talking about other things. About Clara from Thrifty, who had been calling Nat and asking about me. Then about Ziggy’s new obsession with pulling his pants down, which Natasha was very happy about, because she thought it’d meant he was ready to be potty trained.
After that, I ordered room service. Philly cheesesteak and fries. Not exactly authentic Spanish cuisine, but I was desperate to feel like I was back on US soil, even for a little while. I was drawing figures on the plate with a French fry and ketchup when he pounded on my door. I didn’t need to open it to know who it was. Alex was always minutes away from crashing the door down with his force. I ignored the knocks for the first ten minutes, but after that knew I was entering a dangerous territory. If he was drunk or drugged up—two ideas that weren’t farfetched, seeing as he’d disappeared for hours on his own—I needed to deal with that. No matter how hurt I’d felt, this was still a job, and one that paid well. Well enough, in fact, to get Ziggy the tubes he needed in his ears. He had a consultation appointment next week. Plus, I wanted to put Craig in rehab and get Nat’s car running so she didn’t have to take three buses on her way to her temporary job. That meant that no matter how foolishly angry I’d felt about Alex being devastated about Fallon’s engagement, I had to swallow my pride. But that didn’t mean I’d humor him anymore when it came to us.
I walked to the door and swung it open. He stood in front of me, his white V-neck crumpled and wrinkled, his black skinny jeans and impossible height both familiar and imposing. He smelled of cigarettes and the fresh bite of the cool evening air. He looked sober, and miserable, and extremely huggable. I folded my arms over my chest to keep myself from reaching toward him, staring up into his amber eyes with the green and gold flakes that swam in circles, like a gold pond.