“Who cares aboutstuff? I can just replace it. Finally, I’m going to get my money’s worth out of the renter’s insurance.”
I laugh.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “I was so worried. Do you have a place to stay? I mean, other than yourfamily.” Her voice turns bitter. “Maybe I can ask my cousin if you can stay with her until you sort things?”
“Oh, no. Totally not necessary.” Her cousin is great if you like to have her nose in your business all the time. She’s worse than a dog that wants to sniff your butt to see what you’ve been eating. “I’m staying with my boss for now.”
A beat of silence. “That hottie?” I can hear the slyness in her voice.
“Yeeesss…” I tell her what happened between me and Chad earlier today—and the whole “six months of fake engagement” deal Josh and I settled on.
She lets out an outraged screech. “Thatfucker. I still don’t know why God made men stronger. If he got punched in the face once for saying crap like that to a woman, he would never do it again. Just imagine the kind of world we could’ve lived in. Wholesome and civilized.”
“Maintained by punches to the face.”
“Hey, sometimes violenceisthe key. Some people just never learn. This is why I hate people. Dogs? They learn fast. Only need positive reinforcement. Anyway, I’m glad your boss rose to the occasion. Hey, does this mean you’re going to marry him eventually?”
I sputter. “No! I mean, it’s fake. I’m not his type anyway.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t know what his type is.”
“Yeah, I do. Gorgeous models with long legs and big breasts.”
“Except he tosses them after sleeping with them once. I’m telling you, you’re selling yourself short. Besides, this could be like one of those romance novels.”
“Which are fiction,” I point out. The only real thing between me and Josh is my rekindled crush on him. I was doing my best to get over it. But now, not only am I single, I’m stuck living withJosh as his fiancée. Even though I tell myself the engagement is fake, my belly’s done more flips than a gymnast at the Olympics.
“But that man is hot enough to be in one,” Max says.
“True.” My body tingles again in memory, and I sigh.
She pounces immediately. “What happened?I’ve never heard you sigh like that over a man!”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened.”
“Then why are you sighing like he melted the panties off you?”
“Because I’m tired and haven’t had much sleep.” It comes out testily, but Max is too perceptive. I don’t want to give her a blow-by-blow account of how turned on I was around him, especially not when he was as cool as a cucumber. Nothing indicated he wanted to do anything. Well, he brought up kissing, but it was to make me shut up. What’s wrong with me that I’m so down about it?
“Okay, okay! I’ll let you get some rest. But if you need anything, let me know. Hopefully this trip won’t go on forever. I want to be home right now, so we can give each other support.”
“You’ve done plenty already,” I say warmly. “Miss you.”
“Miss you more.”
We end the call, and I sigh. Now that I mentioned being tired, I realize I’m exhausted. The excitement—and adrenaline—of the morning is starting to wear off. Maybe I should nap a little and figure out the clothing situation. I need new clothes. Actually, I need to see if I have any toiletries. I want to brush my teeth and shower to get the ashy smell off me.
I head to the bathroom and almost faint at the fully stocked vanity. I pick up a brand-new toothbrush and use it, vowing to be extra diligent in taking care of my teeth going forward. I’m not planning to see a dentist anytime soon, not after Chad.
The shower in Josh’s home is one of the most luxurious experiences I’ve ever had. Five showerheads and instant hotwater,oh my God, yes. The body wash, shampoo and conditioner are in discreet bottles with golden dispenser tops. On each bottle is a fancy, swirly writing stating,Specially formulated for Joshua Huxley, with meticulous attention in France. Underneath it is another sentence in French, probably meaning the same thing, since Josh’s name is in the middle of it.
After the sinfully long and hot shower, I feel so much better, even though I’m back in my white shirt and boxers. My hair’s never going to be tamed, so I give up and let it air-dry. I need some products to manage the curls, and Josh doesn’t have any. Gotta go shopping, but the idea of taking the Aston Martin out is both exciting and a bit nerve-racking. I’m a good driver, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get into an accident. Max got rear-ended by a guy driving with an expired license and no insurance. She was totally screwed because she didn’t have full coverage on her Camry.
I check my phone for messages, then frown when I see one from my mother.
–Mom: I saw on the news your place burned down. Are you dead?
The way the question is phrased is so blunt and unfeeling. But then, this is the woman who once called in the middle of the night to ask if I was sleeping because she wanted something and didn’t care if she woke me up. I decide not to let her rude text upset me too much. She might genuinely be worried. I didn’t even contact her after the fire.
