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She nearly snorted the brandy out her nose. “Is that what you thought of him?”
“Due respect to you and your taste in men, but I can’t help but feel he must have some redeeming quality that’s invisible to the rest of us.”
“He has a huge cock,” Eirene blurted, and discovered that Simon could blush.
“Well, uh… I think that about covers it,” he managed, and took a bracing sip of his brandy.
“I’m just kidding. He doesn’t.”
“That’s a shame. I’m sorry for your sake.”
“Oh God,” she said and started to cry. Simon took her by the elbow and steered her out of the reception, and down the hall to a little alcove with a bench. “Sit down, now, and cry all you want. I’m not going to tell anyone.” He handed her a handkerchief.
Eirene took it, blew her nose and said, “I don’t know what I see in him. We have similar interests, but we’re so different!”
“Similar interests make for good friends sometimes, but partners? It’s usually not enough.”
Eirene drank down her glass of brandy, noting Simon’s look of alarm. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I don’t want to go back in there, though.”
“Okay, how about we go down to the lobby bar and have a cup of coffee together?”
“Or a drink.”
“Or a drink,” he said without much enthusiasm.
“Spoil sport,” she said, but she was thinking of Paul when she said it. “Race you!” She hitched her skirt up to her knees and flew down the hallway with Simon coming up the rear.
She woke with a foul headache and a taste in her mouth that reminded her of the bottom of her parents’ canary cage. What the hell had happened at the wedding? She opened her eyes. And where the hell was she? In a panic she looked around and saw Simon stretched out on the chaise, eyes closed, a shaft of sunlight falling on him. He looked like a young god, and for a moment she wished with all her heart that their so-called engagement was a real thing, and not just a product of their parents’ wishful thinking.
And then she realized that she was lying in a hotel bed, in her underwear. “Oh God,” she muttered.
Simon must not have been asleep because he heard her and his eyes opened. “Morning. How you feeling?”
“Like hammered shit,” she admitted.
“I tried to get you to drink a lot of water last night before you went out, but you kept spitting it at me and yelling about how you were a sea urchin.”
Eirene cringed. Yeah, that’s what Paul had meant when he’d said, “you know how you get.”
“For the record, Simon, did we—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, though.”
“Ah, no. You were very out of it and there are rules about that. I did undress you and put you to bed though.”
“Why?”
“Well, I didn’t think you wanted your family or boyfriend to see you like that. I mean, rare form and all, and I enjoyed it, but I thought I’d err on the side of caution.”
“Thank you. Oh, my head.” She clutched at it.
“Let me get you some water and aspirin.”
She eased herself up onto her feet and groaned. She hadn’t felt this rough since that week she’d spent in Rome with some friends, the semester before she met Paul. Maybe there really was some value to hanging out with a prissy old maid. Oh God, had she really called him that to his face?
“Here.” He gave her a handful of aspirin and a glass of water. “Finish the water. You’re dehydrated.”
“You know a lot about hangovers, huh?” Eirene tossed down the aspirin and drained the water.
“Comes with the territory.”
