Chapter Eight
Grace
I am wrecked .
That’s the only word that comes to mind as I carefully get up and roll out of bed. Huxley is sound asleep and doesn’t stir.
The nightstand clock says four thirty-seven. Muscles I didn’t know I had protest as I move around the bedroom, gathering my clothes. Holy moly . My legs tremble, my thighs and calves as sore as if I ran a marathon last night.
Well. It might as well have been—a marathon of orgasms.
Still, it’s best to leave now and avoid an awkward conversation. We can end on a high note—a great night of sex and some talk and laughter. If Huxley were local, I might stay, but he’s not. I sigh as I take in the gorgeous hotel. As intrigued as I am about him, I don’t have the resources or bandwidth to start a long-distance relationship, especially with my mother in a hospital in Baltimore. That’s the only long distance I can manage right now.
After I put on my clothes, I look back at the bed. Huxley hasn’t moved.
Goodbye, Huxley. I’m never going to forget you.
It’s impossible to forget a man who’s shown me what is possible in bed…
You know… He’d probably adjust his schedule to fit yours. And this isn’t a regular room or suite. See that kitchen there? He might be in town for longer than you think, the part of me that doesn’t want to give him up argues.
Or it might be his last night in town. We don’t know.
So stay and ask.
Given my luck, he’s only in L.A. because his flight got canceled.
Mom and I were happy until she got sick. Then I thought we’d caught a break when my biological dad came for us, until I learned what a gutless, soulless jerk he was. Peter seemed perfect too—until yesterday.
I don’t want to mar one of the best experiences of my life by discovering more about Huxley. If that makes me a chickenshit, so be it.
I arrive home a little after six. I take the elevator to the top floor and unlock the door to my condo. After dumping the keys in the bowl by the door, I start toward my bedroom. Need extra sleep.
Then I stop dead. Peter and Viv .
Making a face, I turn and head to the couch, kick off my shoes and stretch out, one arm over my head. A couple of hours’ nap, then laundry, then hit the grocery store. Then record something for Mom, so the nurse can play it for her. Ever since the doc said hearing my voice could help, I’ve been doing my best to send a different recording every day so she knows she’s not listening to the same thing over and over again.
Oh, shoot. I should get back to Adam. But not now; it’s too early. Maybe after starting the laundry…
I drift off, only to be yanked back to full wakefulness by giggles. Not just any giggle, but a man giggle .
What the hell? It’s not the neighbors—the unit’s impeccably soundproofed because Andreas hates noise.
I get up and grab a skillet from the kitchen. Given the security and the location of the building, I doubt it’s a burglar, but you never know.
I open the bedroom door, skillet raised high, then stop. “ Peter? ”
He’s lying on my bed with Viv, both of them naked and gross. From the way the sheets are draped across them, her hand is on his crotch. Probably what made him giggle like a castrato.
“What the hell? Knock before you come in,” Peter yells.
“Knock? It’s my room! My condo.”
Viv jumps in. “No, you’re just living here rent-free like a parasite!”
“Really?” I gesture at the living room with the skillet. “Want to make a call and see who’s right?”
She shuts up. She knows Andreas doesn’t approve of her. She thinks it’s because she isn’t super smart like the other people in the family. But my money’s on her shitty personality.
“Don’t be a bitch. I was just leaving anyway.” She hops out of bed and runs off to the en suite bathroom.
Peter stares after her like an idiotic, hormonal teenage boy. I grind my teeth. I should be hurt at seeing the betrayal in person, but I’m just irritated that they’re in my home when I want to rest. Instead of the skillet, I should’ve brought a can of Raid.
“Get off your ass and get lost before I call the cops for trespassing,” I say. “Don’t ever come back.” The shower starts in the bathroom. I’ll have to deal with Viv later.
He shakes his head, his butt still on my bed. “Nope. I should get to live here until I find a new apartment.”
“ What? ”
“I moved out.”
“When? Why?” I demand, my mind furiously processing what’s going on.
“Last month. I thought it made sense for me to live here with you. Saves money. I sold my old couches and TV for a decent price.”
Blood roars in my head, and I tighten my grip on the skillet. “Just so we’re on the same Kafkaesque page… You decided to move in here without telling me because you’re too cheap to pay rent for your own apartment?”
“Not cheap. Smart.”
“And you also thought it was smart to bang her”—I point at the bathroom—“behind my back when you don’t even have a home to return to anymore?”
He glares like I’m the problem. “This is the least you can do for me.”
“Why? Because I won’t tell Nelson Webber what a wonderful lawyer you are?”
“Exactly. Be reasonable. Without me, nobody would’ve known you’re Andreas’s granddaughter anyway,” he sneers.
My gratitude for his one act of kindness five years ago dies a painful yet cynical death. “You asshole!”
“Calm the fuck down. Do we have to be this difficult?”
“Yes! Yes, we do!” I rush to the dresser and pull out the drawers with a few of his casual shirts, shorts, socks and underwear. I should’ve poured bleach on them all and set them on fire anyway!
I throw them in his face. “Take your crap and get out !”
He pulls a shirt off his shoulder. “Come on! You owe me! It’s gonna take some time to find a new place!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shake the skillet at him. “What I owe you is a hard swing to the head with this frying pan!”
“That’d be assault and battery.”
“It would, wouldn’t it? And what would you do? Sue me? You know what… Do it! I’m gonna make this worth a lawsuit!” I put both hands on the skillet and swing it at him.
His eyes widen as he ducks. He rolls off the bed and lands on his side with an ominous crack .
Did he…break something? I wonder, half hopeful and half uneasy.
“Aw, fuck!”
He’s talking, so he can’t be hurt that bad. How disappointing. “Get. The fuck. Out! ”
He crawls along the side of the bed. “I think I pulled something in my back.” He glances up hopefully.
“What are you looking at? Move your ass.”
“Can you help me get up?”
“I’m not touching your filthy, cheating body, okay? Get out before I brain you.” I lift the skillet in case he’s too stupid to get the hint. My God. What the hell is wrong with him? How can a guy with an Ivy League education be this idiotic?
He stands gingerly and gathers his things. I can’t decide if I’m lucky he’s at least in boxers. After Huxley’s penis in all its bejeweled glory, other dicks sort of look small and sad.
“Don’t forget to replace my bed and sheets,” I say, making a face at a noticeable wet spot.
“Fuck you.” Then he hobbles out as quickly he can before I hit him for real.
I exhale to control my temper. It’s ridiculous and infuriating that my relationship with Peter didn’t hit its lowest point last night. What kind of fool did he take me for, anyway? Did he honestly expect me to let him live here after I found out he’d cheated on me?
The door to the bathroom opens. I’m still holding the skillet, although I won’t need it to deal with Viv. She’s even dumber than Peter.
“Get out, and don’t ever show your face around here.”
“You don’t own this place,” Viv sneers.
“Yeah, well, neither do you. And it’s me Andreas picked,” I say, twisting the knife a little. Viv wanted this condo. It’s in a nice, safe area and close to downtown.
“Only because he feels sorry for you. You’re just a manipulative, greedy bitch trying to squeeze money out of everyone!”
The words bounce right off. Her opinion means nothing, because she’s never been fair or nice to me. Why bother listening to her anyway? “Exactly. And I’m also going to tell you that you and Peter need to replace my bed and sheets.”
“Get a job and replace them yourself. Or is honest work beneath you? Emotionally blackmailing people is all you can do, isn’t it? If it weren’t for you, Andreas wouldn’t have been so hard on Dad.”
“If Nelson had kept his dick in his pants—where it belonged —none of this would’ve happened. Do you think I want to be his child? Or be related to someone like you?”
Viv screams, then looks around for something to throw. That is her go-to when she can’t win an argument. She grabs a bottle of toner from my vanity and lifts it over her head.
“Throw that and I’ll tell everyone in creation that you didn’t take your own LSAT.”
She hesitates. That perfect score I made for her is the only reason she got into Harvard Law. Her college transcript is average at best.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, the bottle still poised over her head.
“Why? Because it’s illegal to take the test for someone else?”
Her eyes glitter. “Exactly.”
“So is coercing somebody to take it for you. How do you think it’ll look when I go on TV and tell everyone I had no choice because my stepmother threatened to end my real mother’s care and let her die? You and Karie have a lot to lose because you’re proud Webbers. Me? I’m just a nobody, so…”
She bites her lip, then finally throws the bottle on the bed, where it bounces a couple of times. “ You .” She points a quivering finger at me. “You better keep your mouth shut if you want your cunty mom to live!”