“I am.” I played with the edge of the tablecloth. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be looking for anyone now except for this stupid wedding.”
“Why is it so important for you to have a date for the wedding, Amanda? You’ve gone solo to weddings before. Don’t you always tell me it’s more fun that way, so if you meet someone, you don’t have to worry about hurting the feelings of your date?” Mom tilted her head.
“Yes. Usually, that’s how I feel. I just don’t want—” I paused, trying to figure out what I was trying to say. “I’d rather have the safety net of a date this time. So I don’t do anything idiotic.”Like tackle the bride’s brother to the ground and ride him like a show pony.
“By something idiotic, I’m going to assume you mean someone. You’re concerned that whoever you hooked up with at the engagement party might think you’re looking for round two if you show up on your own. And maybe there’s part of you that wants to prove to this person that you’ve moved on. That someone else wants you, too.”
I sighed. “You know, I signed up for a political mother, not a psychologist mom. I don’t know why I want a date, okay? It just feels like a good idea to have one. But apparently, that’s not going to happen, because everyone I would consider bringing with me is a dud, and Vincent—” I stopped, appalled that I’d spoken his name out loud. “That’s all. I’m done. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” I pushed back my coffee cup untouched. “Did you say something about Christmas shopping? Where did you want to go?”
My mother made a face. “Shopping, on a Sunday two weeks before Christmas? I’d never do that. All of my shopping was done weeks ago, online. I only said that to Jared so that he’d leave us alone.”
“Okay, then I think I’ll head back home. I have one more final paper to write before the end of the semester, and I also need to handle some interrogatories I got behind on last week at work.”
“Amanda.” Mom’s voice softened. “Have you thought that your one-night stand could be more than that? If you’re this obsessed with convincing him that you don’t care three months after the fact, then you should at least consider exploring other possibilities. Like a second night. Or a date.”
“Absolutely not. And I know you didn’t miss that I slipped and said his name, but Mom, I’m begging you in the name of everything you hold holy not to bring it up to me or to anyone else. Don’t go poking. If you figure out who it was, don’t mention it to me or to Daddy or, God forbid, to Mrs. Bailey. I want to forget about it.”
My mother spread her hands in front of her. “Consider it forgotten. I trust you, Amanda. If you say this isn’t going to work, that it’s a dead-end, I believe you know best. And if you really feel as though you need a date for the wedding, I’ll ask Ollie to take you. He’s the perfect candidate for this situation: you know he won’t hit on you, but he’ll be so attentive that anyone who saw you together would swear he’s head over heels.”
“I love Ollie, Mom, but I don’t think it will come to that. I don’t like using people, and that’s what I’d be doing.” My mother’s assistant was a wonderful man, a few years older than me. He was crazy good-looking and sweet enough to make any girl swoon, and sadly for all those girls, he was also gay. He’d been engaged to Victor, his high school boyfriend, until two years ago, when Victor had died in a freak skiing accident. Since then, Ollie had been single, grieving, and buried in his work.
“He adores you, and he’d be happy to help. Just keep it in mind as an option.” We both stood up and shrugged into our coats. Mom pulled fitted black leather gloves over her hands and frowned at me. “Amanda, where are your gloves?”
I made a face. “I lost them a couple of weeks back. I think they fell out of my pocket on the bus.”
“Good lord.” She shook her head. “I’ll send you a new pair. Call it an early Christmas gift. You can’t be walking around the city in the winter without something on your hands.”
“Thanks, Mommy.” I kissed her cheek. “You’re the best. And thanks for brunch, too.”
“You’re welcome. Come on. Let’s get my car, and I’ll drop you at the station. I need to get home to Facetime with your dad.”
“Awww.” I smiled as we walked outside to wait for the car to be brought around. “How romantic.”
Mom winked at me. “Actually, the Facetime talks are more about catching up. The real romance is on Tuesday nights, when he calls me for phone sex.”
“Moooooom.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Do I subject you to talk about my sex life? No, I do not. I’d appreciate the same courtesy extended to me.”
“Sorry.” She spoke so cheerfully that I knew she was lying through her teeth.
The train rumbled over the tracks on its way from Princeton to Philadelphia. The car was full today, with people making the trip into the city for shopping or holiday entertainment. I was lucky that I’d snagged a seat. I lay back against the head rest, feeling unreasonably mopey and blue.
My mother hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that I was probably trying to prove something to Vincent by bringing a date to Ava and Liam’s wedding. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if I hadn’t been afraid that Vincent would show up with some gorgeous, sexy woman on his arm, and I’d be the sad single friend, sitting alone at the table for those who didn’t fit anywhere else.
I wished I could figure out a subtle way to ask Liam or Giff if Vincent planned to bring a date. But they’d both been too suspicious after the engagement party, even after I told them point-blank that I wasn’t sharing anything with them. If I so much as mentioned Vincent’s name now, they’d be on me like bees on honey.
It would be helpful, too, if I’d managed to forget that night. I wished I could. I wished that it had been like any of my other hook-ups, a dim and pleasant memory, rather than something running on constant repeat in my head, flaring into Technicolor perfection when I least wanted it to be there.
I told myself that it didn’t matter, that it didn’t mean anything. Hell, I’d been telling myself that since Vincent had left that Saturday morning ...
Closing my eyes, I let myself drift, remembering.
We hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. It seemed that any time I fell asleep, a few minutes later, Vincent was sucking on my nipple or between my legs, tonguing me to mind-numbing pleasure and then groaning as he slid back inside me. Or I’d wake up with his arms around me, his cock nudging me in the back, and I’d reach backwards and stroke him until he pushed me onto my stomach and took me from behind.
I’d ridden that long, hard dick, making myself come before I took him into oblivion with me. After that, I’d simply laid myself over his body and fallen into a deep, almost drugged sleep.
When the sun came up, waking us both, Vincent coaxed me into the shower with him, where I’d gotten on my knees and sucked him off while he braced against the tiles. After I stood up, smiling like a cat who’d gotten the cream, he’d gotten down and returned the favor.
Twice.
