Page 46 of Knocked Up By the Silver Foxes

I need a shower and a glass of water and approximately forty-eight hours alone with my thoughts before I’m capable of having an adult conversation about any of this. In that order.

I peel myself off the bed and make it to the bathroom.

The water is hot and I stand under it for a long time. Not thinking. Not processing. Just standing there letting the steam do whatever steam does because my brain has officially filed for early retirement and I’m not fighting it.

The soreness registers somewhere around minute three and close my eyes and try extremely hard not to smile.

Fail. I stand there in a very expensive shower in a vineyard in Bordeaux grinning like an idiot and I have absolutely no defense for myself. None.

I wash my hair. I condition it. I do all the normal responsible things a normal responsible person does after an extremely irresponsible night and by the time I turn the water off I have arrived at approximately zero conclusions except that I’m going to need coffee and I’m going to need it immediately.

I brush my teeth. I wrap myself in the thick terry robe on the back of the door and walk out into the suite starting to feel a little bit more stable.

“Well look who finally made it back.”

I practically jump, gripping the robe at my neck. “Jesus, Soph!” I catch my breath. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

She’s on her stomach across my bed, ankles crossed in the air behind her, chin in both hands, wearing an oversized sleep shirt and the grin of a woman who has been waiting for exactly this moment and enjoyed every second of the anticipation. “Your door was unlocked.”

“That doesn’t mean come in.”

“You’ve been gone all night, I was worried.”

“You don’t look worried.”

“I got over it.” She tilts her head. “So. Where were you?”

I cross to the vanity and start doing something, anything, with my hair. “I was out.”

“Out.”

“Enjoying the estate. The grounds are beautiful at night.”

“Harper. We all left the party hours ago except you and…”

I meet her eyes in the mirror. “You were awake?”

“Enzo and I had a late night slash early morning,” She waves a hand.

“Well, what were you two…”

“Stop deflecting,” she laughs.

I say nothing and focus very hard on detangling a section of hair that does not require this much attention.

Sophia rolls off the bed and appears behind me in the mirror, looking at my face with the focused attention of a woman who has known me for six years and has never once been successfully lied to by me. Her eyes go wide. Then delighted.

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t.”

“Harper.”

“I’m begging you.”

“WHO.”

I put the comb down and cover my face with both hands and Sophia grabs my shoulders from behind and shakes me exactly once.