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“Never understood that shit,” he muttered. “How the fuck do they think it’s their business if it’s official or not, but more, do they not have fuckin’ eyes?”
I couldn’t argue that.
He sighed. “I’m probably getting requests too. Do what you want. We’re official, so you can say that. Or you can ignore it, which is what I’m going to do.”
“Ignore it, it is,” I decreed, texted that to Zoey, told her to have fun at Universal Studios, then put my phone down.
“Got a problem with sweat?” Hale asked after I did that.
“Before you, the answer was yes. Absolutely. Gross. Being with you and reading between the lines that you want to fuck me right now, the answer is hell no. Absolutely not.”
He was smiling huge at the same time laughing.
Then he pushed out of his chair, offered me his hand, and said, “Then get up, baby. Time to fuck.”
I took his hand, we went upstairs, and I learned what “time to fuck” meant.
That being, he gave me a break to get us some water, we showered together, we eventually shared some cheese and crackers and almonds and cuddles, but until it was time to get out of bed and get ready for dinner, that was all we did.
All day.
It was sublime.
Perfect.
But by the time we hit dinner, I was famished.
* * *
It was Tuesday,we were back in New York, I was in my office, and my phone rang.
It was Dad.
I grabbed the call immediately because it was my dad. Also because I hadn’t talked to him in a while, and I wanted to check in. Further because I was back, so was Hale, and I wanted to see if he wanted to make some dinner plans with us.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, honey. How’d it go in LA?”
“Awesome. They were amazing. Very forthcoming. Very real. I think it’s going to have an impact.”
“My prime-time girl,” Dad said.
Yes, I sold the interview to the network. They were giving it a prime-time slot. They’d scheduled it and were already promoting it. I couldn’t refuse the offer for that kind of real estate on a network, but more, Audrey had negotiated a huge payday on it, so it would be crazy not to.
“That’s me,” I said to Dad.
“Proud of you. Listen,” he began, his tone having changed, or more accurately, I realized he sounded more tense than before, but he’d started this out tense. “I need to talk to you about something…I don’t know. I can’t say it’s bad. Just, I need to know.”
“Need to know what?”
“Did you set Hale on Oskar?”
Set Hale on Oskar?
What?
“Sorry?” I asked.
