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“But going on tour for six months...” I say, thinking out loud. “And Wynona...”
“A tough decision,” Jeremy says with an understanding nod. “And one I can’t make for you.”
“I’ve made up my mind, anyway,” I tell him. “I have to give this a proper go this time.”
“Have you told her?” Jeremy asks. “About the offer to go on tour?”
“No,” I admit. “I don’t want to complicate this further. She doesn’t need to know.”
“You should tell her,” Jeremy says.
A twinge of annoyance goes through me at my friend voicing what I’d felt instinctively already.
He’s always had a sense about him, Jeremy has. Half a year back, when I was losing my shit and drinking way too much, he was the first one to tell me to cut it out.
Things might’ve been easier if I’d listened.
“This is my decision to make,” I argue.
“One that affects her,” he says smoothly. “Who knows? You said it yourself that she’s different now.”
“Damn it, Jeremy,” I find myself growling. “I’m not about to make the very same mistake that broke us up last time.”
“She couldn’t come with you?”
“We’ve barely started seeing each other. It’s been less than a week,” I say. “And back in New York, she’s got a thriving business, two dogs, and a life. I couldn’t ask her to leave that behind for half a year for me.”
“Makes sense,” Jeremy says, swigging down the last of his beer.
He dips his head to the dance floor, where two wasted girls are grinding on each other while eyeing us pointedly. “Care to join?”
“You’re joking,” I say.
Jeremy sighs heavily. “Yep, you’re whipped.”
“Dude.”
He shrugs. “Those girls are model-hot. The fact that you barely noticed means it’s the real thing. You poor, poor guy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, smiling ruefully as I rise. “I’ll leave you to it?”
Jeremy grooves his way onto the dance floor with a wave flung behind him. “Good luck!”
Back in our VIP room, Wynona’s half-upright on the bed, her black hair a bit ruffled and her blue eyes sleepy with accusation. “I didn’t know where you went.”
“Sorry,” I say, forcing a smile. “I didn’t want to wake you. I was in the bar talking to Jeremy, catching up.”
Her blue eyes rest on me with a shade of uncertainty, but then she smiles too. “Come back to bed.”
It’s one of the best mornings I’ve had, just lazing around in bed with her. We make love and cuddle and then do it all over again. We have breakfast and make love again. We shower together. We watch some funny Spanish show on the TV.
By the time we get out of bed, we realize, in shock, that it’s dinner time. We have a quick dinner at the buffet, a quickie back in my room, a shower, and then we check out the hotel club we’d been meaning to visit.
At eleven PM, the place is hopping. Its metallic purple floors and walls pulse with people dancing to spicy Latin music. I buy us some drinks, down mine fast, then nod to the dance floor. “What do you say?”
All she has to do is smile for me to know that tonight is going to be a very good night. Wynona downs her drink too, and we head for the dance floor.
The last time I saw Wynona’s hips move like that, the night of the wedding, I was filled with a hopeless vague longing. And now... I hook my arm around her waist and move her to me. Our bodies dance together to the beat. Her ass is already driving my cock hard and furiously.
Back and forth, back and forth. I get us more drinks, and we dance some more. Until I can’t take it anymore and kiss her full on the mouth.
She kisses me back ferociously.
Our kiss takes us back to our room, but suddenly, she stops, looking at me hard. “Emerson, I need to know.”
I stare at her uncomprehendingly.
“You’re not telling me something,” she says. “You’ve been distant all day. I’ve tried to just let it go, but...”
“Then let it go,” I growl.
I’m not ready to tell her. Not now.
“Fuck you,” she hisses.
I cover her mouth with mine. “Maybe.”
Our bodies make sense of what our minds can’t. I fuck her hard and rough, and she gives as good as she takes.
Afterward, as we lie exhausted in bed, I wonder, When will I tell her?
Chapter 15
Wynona
When will he tell me?
Whatever Emerson is keeping from me, when will he tell me?
I roll over to look at him. But he isn’t there.
Outside the door, I hear voices. That’s two times now that I’ve woken up to his being on the phone.
What’s going on?
I head over there to say something, but then I hear Emerson say, “I’m sorry, but my decision is final. I won’t be going on the tour.”
Then, he opens the door. “Whoa. Hi.”
