consultant of his kind does and how I like my job. I can’t believe what a great time I’ve had tonight. I realize that the only negative feelings I had toward Adrian were cast in the shadow of Bo. Now that Bo’s out of the picture, I take no issue with Adrian. He loved me. Maybe he still does, but we don’t have time for that discussion tonight. He strokes his fingers through the length of my hair as I rest my head on his lap, my eyelids heavy despite my fight to keep them upright.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers just before I fall completely asleep.
When we reach his oversized bed, cloaked in what I’m sure are one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, I let my robe fall to the floor and I meet him in the middle of the bed. My head finds its former home in the crevice of his shoulder, and we fall asleep wrapped up in each other.
* * *
The clock tells me it’s 9:00 AM. My slight hangover feels like it could very well be 5:00 AM. The smell of bacon wafting through Adrian’s apartment tells me he’s made a huge mistake. I gather what I’m calling “my” robe from the floor and shuffle to the kitchen, wiping sleep from my eyes. Adrian hovers shirtless over the stove and bobs his head to the music from his laptop on the island. The island .
“Really? Bacon?” I tease.
He jumps at the sound of my voice. “Calm down,” he laughs, “I’ve got your ‘I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-meat’ crap right over here.” He slides a plate across the island that’s piled with fruit and my fake bacon.
“Aw, you remembered,” I exaggerate while batting my eyelashes. I don’t eat this overly processed crap, either. But I’ll make an exception for Adrian; he’s trying.
“You’re unforgettable. How’d you sleep?” He crosses over to me and kisses the back of my neck as I settle myself onto a stool.
When breakfast is over, he asks the question I was hoping to somehow avoid. “What are your plans for today and tonight?”
“Well, since Josh and Monica are away, I told them I’d hang out with Regan, a fiddle player for the house band, and watch some of the acts with him tonight.”
One act. There’s only one ac t . In an uncharacteristic mark of betrayal, I feel heat spread through my cheeks and ears.
Adrian takes our dishes to the sink. “Isn’t Cavanaugh playing tonight?”
“Yeah. I told Josh and Bo it was fine because they were acting all weird about him still playing, but the crowd adores him. I said I’d be there, but I wouldn’t sing with him. Boundaries.” I shrug and smile into my coffee mug.
“Sing with him if you want.” Adrian shrugs back and loads the dishwasher.
I’m instantly annoyed at his assumption that I said I wouldn’t sing because of him and not because of my own comfort level. His “permission” has me fuming.
“I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t because of you; therefore, I don’t really need your permission to do it.” I slide off the stool and head to the bedroom to dress.
“Ember,” Adrian calls after me down the hall.
“Look, Adrian,” I say as he enters the bedroom, “this past week was really hard. I was as professional as I could be while working fifty feet from someone who broke my heart. He says we can be friends, but I don’t think he means it in the same way that I meant it when I agreed. I had an amazing time with you last night, and I don’t need you fucking it up by trying to dictate my actions.” I sit on the bed in a huff.
“November, I didn’t mean that. I just meant do what you want. Don’t worry about me, him—or Monica, for that matter. Just do you, Blue.” He sits softly next to me.
“Oh. Sorry.” The heat leaves my face.
“Want me to come tonight?”
Is he serious?
“No. I just...I haven’t said anything to Monica about you, even though she suspects something’s going on anyway, and she’ll find out if we were there together. It’s just...I kind of like having you to myself right now. I need to not
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers just before I fall completely asleep.
When we reach his oversized bed, cloaked in what I’m sure are one-million-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, I let my robe fall to the floor and I meet him in the middle of the bed. My head finds its former home in the crevice of his shoulder, and we fall asleep wrapped up in each other.
* * *
The clock tells me it’s 9:00 AM. My slight hangover feels like it could very well be 5:00 AM. The smell of bacon wafting through Adrian’s apartment tells me he’s made a huge mistake. I gather what I’m calling “my” robe from the floor and shuffle to the kitchen, wiping sleep from my eyes. Adrian hovers shirtless over the stove and bobs his head to the music from his laptop on the island. The island .
“Really? Bacon?” I tease.
He jumps at the sound of my voice. “Calm down,” he laughs, “I’ve got your ‘I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-meat’ crap right over here.” He slides a plate across the island that’s piled with fruit and my fake bacon.
“Aw, you remembered,” I exaggerate while batting my eyelashes. I don’t eat this overly processed crap, either. But I’ll make an exception for Adrian; he’s trying.
“You’re unforgettable. How’d you sleep?” He crosses over to me and kisses the back of my neck as I settle myself onto a stool.
When breakfast is over, he asks the question I was hoping to somehow avoid. “What are your plans for today and tonight?”
“Well, since Josh and Monica are away, I told them I’d hang out with Regan, a fiddle player for the house band, and watch some of the acts with him tonight.”
One act. There’s only one ac t . In an uncharacteristic mark of betrayal, I feel heat spread through my cheeks and ears.
Adrian takes our dishes to the sink. “Isn’t Cavanaugh playing tonight?”
“Yeah. I told Josh and Bo it was fine because they were acting all weird about him still playing, but the crowd adores him. I said I’d be there, but I wouldn’t sing with him. Boundaries.” I shrug and smile into my coffee mug.
“Sing with him if you want.” Adrian shrugs back and loads the dishwasher.
I’m instantly annoyed at his assumption that I said I wouldn’t sing because of him and not because of my own comfort level. His “permission” has me fuming.
“I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t because of you; therefore, I don’t really need your permission to do it.” I slide off the stool and head to the bedroom to dress.
“Ember,” Adrian calls after me down the hall.
“Look, Adrian,” I say as he enters the bedroom, “this past week was really hard. I was as professional as I could be while working fifty feet from someone who broke my heart. He says we can be friends, but I don’t think he means it in the same way that I meant it when I agreed. I had an amazing time with you last night, and I don’t need you fucking it up by trying to dictate my actions.” I sit on the bed in a huff.
“November, I didn’t mean that. I just meant do what you want. Don’t worry about me, him—or Monica, for that matter. Just do you, Blue.” He sits softly next to me.
“Oh. Sorry.” The heat leaves my face.
“Want me to come tonight?”
Is he serious?
“No. I just...I haven’t said anything to Monica about you, even though she suspects something’s going on anyway, and she’ll find out if we were there together. It’s just...I kind of like having you to myself right now. I need to not
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