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“The kind of girl that would be a good mom and a good wife. The kind of girl your mother would approve of, to make your life easier—’cause your mom’s scary. She could do with a nice bitch slap.”
James smiled at me, but there was a sadness behind the smile.
“I might bitch slap my mother someday, but the rest of that’s never going to happen for me,” he said.
“How do you know?” I asked, and dropped my hands from his face.
“I just do,” James said darkly, and turned away again.
James
We got back to the apartment, and Audrey went to go change. I poured myself a drink and stormed around the living room, watching the city below, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
After I’d woken up holding her hand, I’d panicked. I’d dressed quickly and headed out of the apartment before she woke up. I needed to be alone. I’d grabbed a large, black coffee and decided to go for a walk.
I found myself back in the Commons where we’d been yesterday. The sun was just coming up. I was marching through the park as if I had a meeting to rush to—because I usually always had a meeting to rush to. I finally gave up and sat down on a bench, staring at the abandoned swan boats, docked and covered with morning dew.
I needed to think, but all I could think about was her. Nestled against me at that game last night. Laughing and drinking her beer. Sound asleep in her T-shirt, right next to me but still out of reach.
I was so, so f**ked.
I should have just f**ked her when I had the chance, I thought now. So that maybe she never would have talked to me, never would have gotten under my skin. Then she would just be another faceless lay, someone else I’d f**ked and could forget about.
But oh, no. I had tried to keep control, and now the whole thing had gone to hell.
I had feelings for my escort. Real. Feelings.
I wanted to bitch slap myself, but I wasn’t sure what a bitch slap actually entailed.
I’d gone through the fitting and the rest of the day on auto-pilot, trying to at least be semi-pleasant and not ruin Todd’s stupid almost-wedding. I’d told him about the swan boats and the Red Sox, trying to play up my relationship with Audrey so he’d believe in it. But I didn’t need to play it up. It was real, and he already believed in it. He nodded and smiled when I told him about my day.
“She’s a really nice girl,” Todd said.
She was a really nice girl. She just also happened to be my escort.
What she’d told me about my mother had set off a rage-spiral in me, and I had to control it. For Audrey’s sake.
I also had to keep my feelings for her to myself. Also for her sake.
I just had to get through dinner tonight and the next couple of events, I told myself. Then we had the rehearsal dinner and the wedding this weekend. The trip was after that, but I didn’t have to think that far ahead. Not yet. I was going to take it one step at a time and try not to f**k everything up further.
“Where are we going tonight?” she asked me, jarring me out of my self-admonishing reverie. I hadn’t heard her come back out.
“A restaurant called Ministry, in the Back Bay—it’s very trendy. And very overpriced,” I said.
“Perfect,” she said. “What does one wear to a very trendy and very overpriced Back Bay restaurant these days? When one is pretending to be a real-life person, I mean?”
I looked at her, and I couldn’t help myself: I smiled. I wanted to be a glacier, and here she was like the sun, melting my angry resolve.
“Something sexy and black,” I said, instantly regretting it.
She nodded, looking game. “I’ve got that, boss.”
“Would you like some wine before you get ready?” I asked. “We’ve got an hour.”
She marched to the kitchen and parked herself on a barstool. I noticed that she’d changed out of her earlier outfit to a pair of leggings and the T-shirt she’d slept in.
“I never say no to wine. Especially not your wine, James—it’s good,” she said approvingly. “Mine usually comes from one of those big bottles. Or a box.”
I shuddered. “Promise me you’ll never go back to drinking that,” I said, and she furrowed her brow at me.
Of course she was going to go back to drinking that.
“You promise me something,” she said.
“What,” I said, looking at her suspiciously and pouring us both hefty glasses of wine.
“Let’s try to have fun for the rest of the time we’re together,” she said quickly, in an earnest rush. “I was just thinking about it—I had fun yesterday. I can’t remember the last time I had fun. I didn’t think I was capable of it, to be honest.”
