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“Yes—I’m going to woo you.”
She shifts on her feet. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not!” she says an octave higher.
“Okay, I’m not.”
Her shoulders sag and she looks disappointed now. “Wait—you’re not?”
I smile and step closer to her, putting my hands on the outside of both her arms. “Nora. What do you want? Do you want to try us one more time while we have the perfect excuse to do it? Or do you want me to forget I ever said anything, and we can do as you suggested and double down on the rules? Either way, you’ll still be my agent when we get back to L.A. Your answer has no bearing on that.”
Her eyes meet mine and the air sizzles between us. All I really want to do is press her back into the wall and continue the kiss we started on the couch, but I refrain. Barely. Because I want her to be able to think about this. I don’t want her decision to be out of lust—or for her to think it’s out of lust on my end either. It’s so much more than that to me. It always has been.
And after several long, torturous moments Nora blurts, “I have to make a call!”
She slips under my arm and flies from the bathroom and then the suite. The door falls shut behind her with an ominous and non-encouraging thud.
Fifteen quick steps and I’m out in the hallway. What is happening? I repeat,what is happening?
I double over by the ice machines and clutch my stomach. I’m grasping for breath like a claw in a toy machine—can’t quite get it.
Derek wants to woo me?
Do I want him to?
My head is spinning. I’m terrified, and yet the smile on my face is drawn in permanent marker. I should find a way to wipe it right off, though, because no good can come from this. First of all, we’re married and need to get a divorce. How would we throw dating into the mix? Do we just stay married? Do we divorce so we can date? Second, I’m his agent and I want to continue being his agent. Third, I want him to take all my clothes off and—
Shoot.That’s not supposed to be a point. And I’m not really the casual take-my-clothes-off-just-for-the-hell-of-it person. No matter how much I wish otherwise. When my clothes come off, my little monogamous backpack of feelings clips on. I can’t help it. It’s the lawof my body governed by a cute little prudish policewoman that I really wish would go away sometimes.
And therefore I need to call my mom. My best friend. She always knows what to do.
I swipe through my phone as quickly as possible to find my mom’s name. Two rings later, she answers. “Hi, honey! How’s your fake honeymoon going? Oh, by the way, I got on Instant Gram this morning to see if you sent me any new cute animal reels and my gosh, honey, your face was everywhere! Well, yours and Derek’s faces and mostly pressed together making out on the beach. But still. Did you know that you’ve gone vital?”
Calling Pam is always the right decision. “Mom, first, it’s called Instagram. And it’s not going vital, it’s going viral.”
There’s music in the background, as well as someone talking loudly.
“Like a virus? Ew, why would we call it that?”
“Because it spreads quickly, I guess.”
“I likevitalbetter.” Someone shushes my mom.
“Agreed—let’s change it. But no, I haven’t gotten on social media at all, and now I’m glad I haven’t.” The music on her end is booming. “Mom, where are you?”
“I’m in the movies. But it’s just the trailers playing right now.” She pulls the phone away from her ear a little to talk to someone around her. “Oh—for pity sakes, it’s just the trailers! No one cares about these movies anyway and this is my daughter on the phone. Do you have a daughter? Well, you would know how important it is to not miss this call if you did! Okay, okay, I’m leaving!”
There’s a muffled sound like fabric scraping the phone and then, “Nora, you still there? I’m in the lobby now.”
“I’m here.” The wall is solid at my back. I slide down it and sinkdown to the floor—tucking my knees up into my sweatshirt. “What movie are you seeing?”
“That action flick where the guy takes off his shirt.”
“Oh yeah—the guy with all the abs?” I set my chin on my knees.
“Yes. And good hair too.”
