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“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you needed constant attention.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I wanted to hearhervoice and talk about more than her stepmom and this god forsaken engagement party. I wanted to know where the fuck she had been for the last eighteen years, and why the hell she left me. There was no reason I couldn’t ask, and I would when the time was right, but I could see in the uncertainty in her eyes that now wasn’t the time.
She had bigger things on her plate than our past. Though, I wished I’d taken up at least a sliver of space on that plate. Instead, I felt discarded, like an appetizer dish that was pushed off to be ushered away.
“Do you have to pee?” I asked instead of the million other questions bouncing around in my head.
“Oh. Sorry. I’m good.”
“Is it okay if I stop, anyway? I need to stretch my legs.” Honestly, I needed to get out of this fucking vehicle and away from her daisy scent. It was driving me mad.
She glanced at her watch. “I suppose we have time.”
Whether we did or not, I was still stopping. “Good.”
I pulled into the rest stop and jumped out of the truck before it was barely off. I inhaled the fresh air of truck fumes and greasy fast food that permeated the parking lot. It was a welcomed relief.
“I guess since we’re here, I’ll go,” Phoebe said, shouldering her bag.
“Go ahead. I’ll meet you in there.”
Laurent was right. I was ignoring him, but it wasn’t my fault. All that talk about my mom had put a permanent lump in my throat, and I’d been battling tears since we got on the highway. I didn’t want him to see me cry. It was bad enough I got drunk two weeks ago, and he had to carry me to my suite. I’m thankful he was smart enough to use the back entrance. Poor Lewis hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since.
I hurried into the bathroom past the mom and daughter who were washing their hands. The mother looked about thirty-five, the daughter no older than five. Would she live long enough to see her daughter graduate? To watch her walk down the aisle? To have kids of her own?
The negative thoughts consumed me, pity for the little girl swirling around my head. She had no idea how long her mom would be around, and she was too young to understand that one day her mother would be gone, and she’d be left in the world alone.
Swallowing the unexpected emotion clogging my throat, I pushed into a stall. I didn’t have to go, but since we were here, might as well try. I finished up, took a deep breath, and headed out toward the line of food options.
My ringtone cut through the hum of the crowd. I fished it out of my bag only to sigh at the name.
Biting back the annoyance rising inside me, I answered. “Hi, Marion.”
“Are you on the road yet?” she asked, once again no hi or how you doing.
“We are.” I didn’t want to tell her how far we were in case she got some notion we could meet up for dinner.
“I called your hotel to confirm your reservation.”
“You did what?” The annoyance I had tried to smoother rose to the surface. I fell into a white chair and let my head fall into my free hand. “Why are you checking my reservation?” I purposely chose a hotel that was not among the suggested in the invitation for this very reason. Marion can’t mind her own damn business.
“I needed to make sure everything was confirmed, so we don’t have any unexpected issues. I don’t understand why you couldn’t stay at the hotel everyone else is staying at. Unless you’re hiding the fact that your boyfriend is not really your boyfriend.”
Ice spread through my veins, and my entire body froze. “Of course he’s my boyfriend.”
“Then why are you staying in separate rooms?”
“We’re not.” We absolutely were. I could not be in the same room as Laurent. Hell, the last time I was I stripped down to my underwear. Granted, I was not in my sane mind, running on Sauvignon Blanc and chicken wings. Even sober, I’d doubt I’d be able to resist him, especially since I knew he slept in nothing more than his underwear. I’m sure that hadn’t changed. He ran hot and hated to be smothered in layers. He didn’t even like a blanket.
“The hotel said you had two rooms booked under your name.”
“It must be a mistake. Or we both booked the room without realizing the other already had.”
“Why would he put it in your name and not his own?”
