“Afraid not.” I stood up, hugging the towel to me. “You’ll have to make those five orgasms hold you until the next time you find a woman you want to fuck.” I kept my tone light, but I didn’t miss the wince on Vincent’s face.
“I guess I will.”
I pointed to the bedroom door. “I’ll walk you out.”
He frowned at me. “You don’t have to do that. You must be exhausted. Crawl back into bed and get some sleep.”
“I plan to, but I need to lock the door behind you.” The smile I wore was definitely forced.
Vincent nodded. “Ah, of course. Sure. Okay.”
We walked toward my apartment door in silence. I cleared my throat as we reached the living room. “Sorry I didn’t get up and make you breakfast. Or coffee. I don’t have anything in the house, actually. Breakfast isn’t my thing. And I always pick up my coffee on the way to class.”
“Breakfast isn’t your thing? What does that mean? You don’t eat breakfast?” He looked horrified by this revelation. “I would’ve made you something, only I didn’t want to overstep.”
“Like I said, nothing in the house. You’d have had to hit the grocery store first.” I shrugged. “Just another way we’re opposites.”
“Yeah.” He stopped at the door and laid one hand on the knob before turning back to me. “Amanda, thanks for last night. I really had a good time. In case you couldn’t tell.”
Some of my misery and irritation melted away. “I did, too. In caseyoucouldn’t tell.”
He slid his hand alongside my cheek, cupping my face and threading his fingers into my hair. “I guess I’ll see you ... at the wedding, right?”
“Unless you’re planning to show up at Ava’s bridal shower? Her friend Julia’s planning it, and she already let me know when it’s going to be.” I grinned, trying to picture Vincent among the tea sandwiches and fancy little cakes, watching his sister open gifts of lingerie.
“Uh, no. I think I’ll be skipping that shindig.” He made a face.
“Then yeah, the wedding it is.”
“That’s three months away. Almost four, I guess.” His brow knit together.
“I think that’s right. I’ll be finished with my second-to-last semester of law school. The time can’t go fast enough.”
“I bet.” With a small sigh, Vincent leaned in to kiss me, and this time, I tasted good-bye on his lips. It was bittersweet and a little sad. “See you later, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Vincent.”
He turned the knob and exited, sending me a quick smile and wave over his shoulder. I stood in the open door for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner as he headed for the elevator.
I wanted to run after him and drag him back inside, but I knew that was insane. As we’d both just pointed out, we had almost nothing in common, and neither of us was interested in changing that. We weren’t looking for relationships. We’d wanted a hot and heavy hook-up, and by God, we’d gotten just that.
Which was why I forced myself to close the door, lock it and walk back into my bedroom to get some sleep.
And if I shed a few tears as I drifted off, that meant absolutely nothing, except that I was over-tired.
I didn’t hear anything from or about Vincent for about six weeks, until Ava’s bridal shower. Being a glutton for punishment, I intentionally sat close to Mrs. DiMartino, listening to her chatter to family and friends about everyone in her family, hoping to hear something about Vincent and at the same time, praying I didn’t.
“So Frannie, you got just the one left who isn’t married or taken!” The older woman sitting a little down from Ava’s mother leaned forward, grinning. “Is Vincent ever going to settle down?”
Mrs. DiMartino waved one hand. “Who knows with that one? He’s got a single-minded focus on his job, which is fine with me, because he’s a big part of Cucina Felice. People come to our restaurant from all over to eat my Vincent’s pastries.”
The lady sitting next to me patted my knee. “Have you sampled Vincent’s goodies?” I choked on my punch, coughing and sputtering, as Mrs. DiMartino glanced over at me.
“Oh, no, Amanda’s never been to the restaurant. But you had some of Vincent’s stuff at the engagement party, didn’t you, dear?”
I was certain my face was bright red, but I managed to shake my head. “No, I didn’t have dessert that night.”
“That’s right. You left the party a little early, didn’t you?” Angela DiMartino, Ava’s sister-in-law, shot me a pointed look, with one raised eyebrow, making me wonder what information Vincent’s brother might have shared with his wife.
