Chapter Sixteen
Ailee
As soon as Josh is gone, I inhale deeply.
Oh my God. I had to hold my breath when he put his finger on my mouth.
He only did it to shut me up, but the contact sent a jolt through me.
I lie on the sofa and stare at the lights breaking off the crystals.
I instinctively tried to flick my tongue over his skin.
Thank God my brain suddenly kicked in, because I might’ve tried to pull the finger into my mouth and suck.
Just thinking about it makes my body heat. Not sure why—it’s not like I ever got hot and bothered about sucking a finger. But I wanted to run my tongue over his knuckles, taste the salt on his skin, test how far I could push his control. Then—
I cover my flaming cheeks with my hands. Come on, Ailee. Stop thinking about sucking Josh.
My phone rings with a call. Max.
“Hey,” I say.
“Oh my God, are you all right? I saw the news! I’m so freaked out!”
“I’m fine. The whole building’s toast, but I was able to escape before it got serious. I don’t think anything from our unit survived except my phone. Hopefully you didn’t have anything valuable in there…?”
“Who cares about stuff? I can just replace it. Finally, I’m going to get my money’s worth out of the renter’s insurance.”
I laugh.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “I was so worried. Do you have a place to stay? I mean, other than your family.” Her voice turns bitter. “Maybe I can ask my cousin if you can stay with her until you sort things?”
“Oh, no. Totally not necessary.” Her cousin is great if you like to have her nose in your business all the time. She’s worse than a dog that wants to sniff your butt to see what you’ve been eating. “I’m staying with my boss for now.”
A beat of silence. “That hottie?” I can hear the slyness in her voice.
“Yeeesss…” I tell her what happened between me and Chad earlier today—and the whole “six months of fake engagement” deal Josh and I settled on.
She lets out an outraged screech. “That fucker. I still don’t know why God made men stronger. If he got punched in the face once for saying crap like that to a woman, he would never do it again. Just imagine the kind of world we could’ve lived in. Wholesome and civilized.”
“Maintained by punches to the face.”
“Hey, sometimes violence is the key. Some people just never learn. This is why I hate people. Dogs? They learn fast. Only need positive reinforcement. Anyway, I’m glad your boss rose to the occasion. Hey, does this mean you’re going to marry him eventually?”
I sputter. “No! I mean, it’s fake. I’m not his type anyway.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t know what his type is.”
“Yeah, I do. Gorgeous models with long legs and big breasts.”
“Except he tosses them after sleeping with them once. I’m telling you, you’re selling yourself short. Besides, this could be like one of those romance novels.”
“Which are fiction,” I point out. The only real thing between me and Josh is my rekindled crush on him.
I was doing my best to get over it. But now, not only am I single, I’m stuck living with Josh as his fiancée.
Even though I tell myself the engagement is fake, my belly’s done more flips than a gymnast at the Olympics.
“But that man is hot enough to be in one,” Max says.
“True.” My body tingles again in memory, and I sigh.
She pounces immediately. “What happened? I’ve never heard you sigh like that over a man!”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened.”
“Then why are you sighing like he melted the panties off you?”
“Because I’m tired and haven’t had much sleep.
” It comes out testily, but Max is too perceptive.
I don’t want to give her a blow-by-blow account of how turned on I was around him, especially not when he was as cool as a cucumber.
Nothing indicated he wanted to do anything.
Well, he brought up kissing, but it was to make me shut up.
What’s wrong with me that I’m so down about it?
“Okay, okay! I’ll let you get some rest. But if you need anything, let me know. Hopefully this trip won’t go on forever. I want to be home right now, so we can give each other support.”
“You’ve done plenty already,” I say warmly. “Miss you.”
“Miss you more.”
We end the call, and I sigh. Now that I mentioned being tired, I realize I’m exhausted.
The excitement—and adrenaline—of the morning is starting to wear off.
Maybe I should nap a little and figure out the clothing situation.
I need new clothes. Actually, I need to see if I have any toiletries.
I want to brush my teeth and shower to get the ashy smell off me.
I head to the bathroom and almost faint at the fully stocked vanity. I pick up a brand-new toothbrush and use it, vowing to be extra diligent in taking care of my teeth going forward. I’m not planning to see a dentist anytime soon, not after Chad.
The shower in Josh’s home is one of the most luxurious experiences I’ve ever had.
Five showerheads and instant hot water, oh my God, yes.
The body wash, shampoo and conditioner are in discreet bottles with golden dispenser tops.
On each bottle is a fancy, swirly writing stating, Specially formulated for Joshua Huxley, with meticulous attention in France.
Underneath it is another sentence in French, probably meaning the same thing, since Josh’s name is in the middle of it.
After the sinfully long and hot shower, I feel so much better, even though I’m back in my white shirt and boxers.
My hair’s never going to be tamed, so I give up and let it air-dry.
I need some products to manage the curls, and Josh doesn’t have any.
Gotta go shopping, but the idea of taking the Aston Martin out is both exciting and a bit nerve-racking.
I’m a good driver, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get into an accident.
Max got rear-ended by a guy driving with an expired license and no insurance.
She was totally screwed because she didn’t have full coverage on her Camry.
I check my phone for messages, then frown when I see one from my mother.
–Mom: I saw on the news your place burned down. Are you dead?
The way the question is phrased is so blunt and unfeeling.
But then, this is the woman who once called in the middle of the night to ask if I was sleeping because she wanted something and didn’t care if she woke me up.
I decide not to let her rude text upset me too much.
She might genuinely be worried. I didn’t even contact her after the fire.
–Mom: Nobody would say, and you didn’t text me or your dad or Katt. Apparently two people died in the fire. I just want to know. In case I need to file a claim.
File a claim?
–Me: A CLAIM?
–Mom: Oh. So you’re alive.
–Me: You took out life insurance on me?
–Mom: Yes, when you were one. It was only two bucks to start. And we sort of forgot about it until recently. But the payout is decent. A million dollars.
My jaw slackens. Tremors run through me, and I can barely hold the phone. A million dollars. I can feel her disappointment through the screen. If only I’d been a little slower leaving the inferno, I could’ve just died and become useful.
–Mom: I guess it’s all right. Maybe next time.
I do a double take.
–Me: Next time?
–Mom: You know what I mean.
–Me: I know what it sounds like. That you’re sad I didn’t die in the fire.
As soon as I hit send, an overwhelming sense of misery washes over me.
I bend over, an arm around my belly. Why is it that I feel so small and pathetic every time I speak to my mom?
I’m tempted to ask if she bought the same policy on Katt, too, but I’m too chicken.
What if she says no? That she only bought one for me because Katt’s better alive than dead?
My thoughts are a mess, my emotions a tangled knot that can’t be pulled apart.
–Mom: You’re being melodramatic. It was just a figure of speech. And a lack of humor is unbecoming.
–Me: Yes, of course. Sorry I’m being too overly serious instead of dead.
–Mom: I didn’t even really yell at you for publicly embarrassing Katt in that video.
You know you can’t hang on to a man like Josh Huxley anyway.
Just help Katt plan her wedding to him and stop embarrassing yourself.
Thanks to the video, pretty soon everyone’s going to know you got dumped.
But if you show up at the wedding, people won’t think it was such a bad breakup.
–Me: Has it ever occurred to you that maybe—just MAYBE—he likes me?
–Mom: Are you high from inhaling too much smoke or something?
I shake all over as tears gather in my eyes. Why is my own mom so casually cruel to me? Why does she think I’m so unworthy?
Then I recall the way Josh looked at me in the car, his eyes steady and unwavering just before said he liked me. How that made me warm, made my heart race.
–Me: He SAID he likes me.
–Mom: And you believe him? Men say things they don’t mean all the time, especially to young women who don’t have much going for them. I wouldn’t confuse pity with affection.
I put down my phone, too upset to continue the conversation. All the delicious tension and fluttery sensations Josh gave me have disappeared, leaving me cold and empty inside.
Then I force a stiff smile. Should just let all this roll off me. It doesn’t matter what she says. It shouldn’t. As long as I can put on a smile, I’ll be fine.