Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
winnie
A cool drop of water slides down Winnie’s neck, waking her as it slips beneath her shirt, infiltrating her warm sleep cocoon.
Another follows a moment later, tickling as it slips slowly across her skin.
She blinks, then blinks again, fighting to make sense of the blurry world with her foggy brain.
As she lifts her head to look around, the body beneath her groans. Suddenly the night comes flooding back.
Ty. The meteor shower. The Adirondack chair. The orgasm that turned her thoroughly to putty.
Two strong arms squeeze her tighter as her human pillow shifts. “It’s fucking freezing.”
“We must’ve fallen asleep,” she murmurs as she curls into his broad chest, pulling her knees up and burying her face against his neck. He jolts as her frigid nose brushes up against his burning skin. But it feels so good she can’t pull away.
Whatever.
He can take it.
“What time is it?” She yawns into the collar of his jacket.
He lifts his arm. “Six fifteen.”
Winnie sighs and turns her face to the sky, which is already a warm, sunny blue. She slips off her glasses and rubs at the lenses with her sleeve. The source of the condensation becomes clear—morning dew. “We should probably get back inside.”
“Probably,” he agrees, but makes no move to let go.
She turns to him with a wry smile. “I can’t exactly stand when you’re holding on to me like a very large, very cute koala.”
“I know. I just want one more minute with you all to myself. We have another one of those god-awful ceremonies tonight, and I just—” He breaks off with a sigh, then his eyes go wide.
Deep in the dark depths of his pupils a lightbulb flares to life.
“Let’s just leave,” he blurts, turning to her with the most adorably earnest expression.
“Let’s just go. What’s the worst they can do? ”
Winnie tilts her chin with a pointed air. “Sue us.”
He waves it off. “I have lawyers.”
“Well, I don’t.” She snorts. “Besides, it’s like four weeks. Whatever they’re going to throw at us, we can handle it. I’m not going to let you ruin your reputation with your fans. They want to see you fall in love.”
“They will,” he says matter-of-factly. “I did. With you. Story’s over.”
“Ty.”
“What?”
“Ty.” She arches her brows.
His lips droop into the petulant frown of a guilty little boy. “What?”
“You know what.” She tries to sit up but he’s still got her in an iron grip.
What the heck is he lifting these days? The man is pure muscle.
“What about my reputation? I know I’m not nearly as famous as you, but I’ve got a business and I need to protect it.
The women who watch this show are my ideal audience, and if they think I’ve cheated them out of a real romance after they invested so long, well, I’m totally screwed. ”
A frustrated growl rumbles deep in his chest. “Fine.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” she murmurs, his stubble rough against her palm as she looks deep into his crystalline eyes. “Like you just said. What’s the worst they can do?”
He narrows his eyes, then relents. With a quick kiss, she crawls off his lap. They pass two bleary-eyed cameramen as they walk hand in hand back to the lobby.
I guess that answers that.
Heat creeps up her neck at the memory of what those fathomless black lenses probably captured.
I won’t be embarrassed.
Nope.
Hell no.
Not today.
It was the best freaking night of her life, and she won’t let anything—not even the thought of ten million people seeing her orgasm—take that away.
Ty pulls her against his side, keeping their hands joined as he drapes his arm across her shoulders and whispers, “I love it when you blush.”
She bites her lower lip, fighting back a smile. “New kink?”
“Nah.” He grins. “Oldest kink in the book. But—” He lowers his voice. “It is the first time I’m watching you blush at the memory of my hands on your body, and that is definitely something I could get used to.”
The warmth on her cheeks deepens.
“You’re not sorry, are you?” he asks softly, vulnerability coloring his tone.
She scrunches her brows. “Sorry for what?”
“That it happened.”
“God, no.” Winnie stops walking and looks up at him to make sure he understands. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about last night. Not a single thing.”
The corners of his mouth curve up. “Me neither.”
“I’m surprised you’re so calm though,” she comments lightly.
He tilts his head to the side, confused. “Why?”
“Because my dad might be one of those ten million viewers.”
All the color drains from Tyler’s cheeks. “Oh, fuck.”
Winnie laughs outright as she lets go of his hand, leaving him with that little gift before turning toward her side of the hotel.
“You don’t think they’ll show it, do you?” he calls after her, desperation shifting his voice an octave higher than it usually is. “Do you, Win? Win! Winnie!”
She turns toward him at the base of the stairs and offers a little wave before jogging up the steps. Let him ruminate on that for the next few hours.
Winnie’s grinning by the time she gets back to her room, so distracted she doesn’t even see the note attached to the door until she’s already knocking. Her fist is still raised as the panel swings open.
“You’re back!” Harper cheers. “Come on. I want to hear—” She breaks off, noticing the horrified expression twisting Winnie’s features. “What? What’s—”
Harper quiets. A stern frown sharpens her features.
Whore.
They stare at the bright red word together, written in lipstick over the Do Not Disturb card that usually hangs from the knob.
It’s not until Harper reaches up and violently rips it down that Winnie even sees how it was stuck to the wood—gum.
Her friend takes the thin cardboard and rips it clean in two, then disappears into the bathroom.
The toilet flushes. She returns with a bright smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Well, now that that’s done, come on.” Harper hooks her elbow around Winnie’s and drags her into the safe haven of their room. “I want to hear everything.”
It’s a show of solidarity so pure, so powerful, Winnie blinks back tears.
She’s so rarely had this in her life—someone to share the burden, to make it easier to bear.
No woman except Sam has ever had her back like this, without question, without hesitation.
And now she has three more friends, she realizes, as Harper shares a look with Cynthia and Charlotte, something passing between them unspoken, causing the other girls to race across the room—three more friends who see something in her worth defending.
It means so much more than any of them will ever know.
It’s the difference between spending the afternoon curled in her bed crying versus spending it the way she actually does, giggling and sighing and blushing and talking so much her throat goes a little hoarse, because she has no reason to feel ashamed and every reason to feel exactly the way she does—happy.
By the time the puzzle ceremony rolls around, she’s almost forgotten the incident even happened. Almost. Though it comes surging back to the surface the moment she steps into the cocktail party and every other girl in the room goes silent. Their looks are so dirty they may as well be slinging mud.
“Do I have something in my teeth?” Harper sweetly croons.
Charlotte rolls her eyes and links arms with Winnie, guiding her into the room. They find a tray of champagne and each grab a flute.
“You’d think they’d never seen two people make out before,” Cynthia comments as she joins them a moment later.
“They’re just jealous,” Charlotte adds. “It’ll pass.”
“I know,” Winnie says, feigning a nonchalance she doesn’t quite feel.
Because she gets it. She came into this show wearing a bright red fuck me dress, like a metaphorical fuck you to every other woman here, whether she meant it or not.
And now they all caught her out with Ty after hours, fulfilling the seductress roll production painted her into.
They don’t know the full story. They have no idea that Ty sought her out, no idea of the history the two of them share.
If Winnie were in their shoes, she’d be pissed too.
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
She sips her champagne, letting the fizz bubble through her and calm her nerves. The women whisper, passing glances her way. She wants to believe it’s not about her, that she’s being a vain idiot, but the little tickle at the back of her neck says otherwise.
“Where do you think we’ll go next?” Charlotte asks.
“Somewhere else in Europe,” Harper says, still scanning the room. She curls her lip in a silent sneer, like a human guard dog, and turns to them with her full attention. “That’s where they usually go, right?”
“Last year, they went to England, France, and Italy, those lucky bitches,” Cynthia adds with a laugh. “But hey, who am I to talk? Getting to Iceland is even more than I ever expected. I’m happy anywhere.”
“Maybe we’ll go to…” Harper trails off, thinking. “I don’t know, Greece?”
“Ooh, or maybe Germany?” Charlotte’s curls bounce. “I’ve been dying to go to one of those Christmas shops. They always pop up on my Instagram feed.”
“Char.” Cynthia turns on her with a look. “It’s the middle of summer.”
Charlotte shrugs. “Haven’t you ever heard of Christmas in July?”
“Hey.” Harper nudges Winnie’s hip, as if sensing she’s stuck in her own head. “Maybe we’ll go to Romania.”
Winnie smiles, trying to snap out of it. “If we do, I’m forcing you guys to try some papanasi. They’re these Romanian doughnuts covered in sour cream and jam. So freaking tasty. My mom makes them at home, but even hers aren’t as good as the ones the locals make.”
“You have family there, right?” Charlotte asks.
Winnie nods. “My whole extended family still lives there.”
“Do you visit a lot?” The longing in Cynthia’s tone is clear. She’s mentioned before that all her relatives are pretty much in her same small town.