Page 46 of Better Left Unsaid

How did I get the room wrong? I didn’t see how this was ever going to be anything other than what it was—awkward as fuck.

“What do you meanwrong room? Whose room did you think this was?”

Good fucking question. Why did I say that? I couldn’t very well answer her. But that was a very, very, very good question. Any day now for that answer to come to me. One that wasn’t the truth but didn’t sound like a blatant lie. Come on! What could I say? “I was peeing.” I uncovered my eyes.

She quirked a brow as my brain tried to formulate the second half of my response. The first half was crap, so hopefully the second was better.

“And I forgot which room was mine. I thought it was this one.” And apparently I was knocking for the door to magically open. Yeah, right. Thankfully, though, they didn’t seem to hear the knocking, hopefully making this train wreck believable. “Honest mistake.” If I had no brain. What was wrong with me?

“You lost your room?” Perla questioned, her head shaking as she closed her eyes and then reopened them, likely hoping she was dreaming so she didn’t have to just discover what I’d known—I was a schmuck.

Quite possibly the biggest one around. Was there a contest for that? Could I win money for it? Some game show perhaps?The Biggest Schmuck.It seemed like it should be. “Yep.” I placed my hand over the front of my boxers, feeling more than a little uneasy about all of this. “I should—”

I was just about to leave when Frankie came out of their en suite bathroom. When he saw what I was in, he growled (I didn’t blame him), and he stood in front of Perla, practically blocking her from my view (again, totally understandable). “Dude, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steam wasn’t actually coming out of his ears, but I knew it could. He looked pretty pissed.

Made sense. I just barged in on him and his wife in the middle of the night. Again, someone I looked at like a sister. Yeah, I needed to go back to my room.

“I lost my room,” I repeated the way Perla phrased it by way of explanation (read: no explanation at all). “I’m going to go, though, and find it. I think I know which one it is now.”

Wow, I hated myself. It was official. I was starting a hate club for Dominic Deluca. Anyone else want to join? I’d waive the admission fee if you signed up in the next twenty-four hours. We’ll be handing out goodies to the first ten people who sign up, too. They’ll get a cardboard cutout of me that they could kick for their own amusement.

“Glad to hear it. Now get out of here,” Frankie said, shaking his head and closing the door on my face. I deserved that.

As I walked back to my room, all I could think was how I could do without another trip to the Hamptons for a good long time.

Chapter Fourteen

Maria

“Okay, I thoughtabout it, and I need those shoes,” Bianca said, closing the cover of the magazine and leaving it in her lap. “Do you think I have time before my appointment to go get them?”

Leave it to Bianca to come to the nail salon, and while we were waiting for our turn, her mind went back to a pair of shoes she’d seen in the store window next door. Oh, yeah, remember when she’d said she hated her nail color and wanted to get them redone when we were back home? Granted, she’d been drunk, but even sober she decided she wanted to redo her nails, so here we were at the salon on our first day back from the Hamptons.

Bianca turned to Isabella in the seat between us and fixed the light wisps of hair falling out of her braid. “What do you say, Isabella? Want to come with me?” Bianca asked.

“Okay!” Isabella squealed. “Can I get something, too?”

Bianca gasped. “Hello, of course you can. What’s the point of going into a store if you’re not going to get anything?”

I shook my head, chuckling. “Isabella is beginning to acquire your affinity for shoes.” I peered over at Isabella flipping through the magazine she’d picked up from the table while we were waiting, wanting to be just like her aunt. “You love your shoes, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Isabella smiled from ear to ear, her rosy cheeks on full display. “One day I want a whole shoe closet.”

“A whole shoe closet?” I echoed, gasping and then giggling.

Perla walked up to us and stood, a hand on her hip. “Why are we talking about a shoe closet? Are you getting one, Maria?”

“No, but Isabella wants one,” I answered.

Perla winked. “I want one, too, Peanut.” Then she plucked my magazine from my lap and studied the page I was on. “Why are you staring at the table of contents?”

I rolled my eyes and snagged it back from her. “Now that we’re back from the Hamptons, I need to buckle down and focus on work again.”

Perla threw her head back and sighed. “Best long weekend ever!”

Rolling my eyes, I looked back at the magazine in my lap. “Yeah, well, I’m just trying to see what other publications are doing. I think some of our layouts need a refresh.”

“Like the table of contents page?” Bianca asked, snickering. “What is the matter with you, Maria? Leave it to you to work when we’re having girls’ time.”

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