Page 107 of The Invitation

“Then I’m happy. Are you?”

“Are you going to make that clear to Katherine?”

“I don’t want you to think about Katherine.” Reaching for my cheek, he traces his finger down the bone. “So, I will ask you again. Are you happy?”

I’m almost scared to admit it. But not thinking about Katherine? I don’t feel like that was an answer. “I’m happy,” I say, but it’s half-hearted, and I know he senses that when his eyes narrow just a little and he sighs.

“Answer me honestly.”

“I’ll be happy if you tell me you won’t be sleeping with Katherine again.”

His lip quirks. “I thought I did last night.”

So he does remember. I scrunch my nose, and Jude mirrors it, biting the end of mine and opening the sheet. He drags his gaze down my naked front. “And in case you’re interested, I’mveryhappy.” My body lights up. Unstoppable. He uses the edges of the sheet to pull me closer, guiding my boob onto his mouth, and I sigh, letting him feaston me. “Time to get ready for work.” He slaps my arse and moves me out of his space.

“What?”

“I have work to do,” he says. “And you’re going to help me.”

“But it’s the weekend.”

“Don’t tell me you abstain from the pull of an email or two during a Saturday or Sunday.”

More than an email or two. “What am I helping you with?”

He kisses my cheek and snaps the lid of his laptop down before sliding it off the counter. “Meet me in the Library Bar in half an hour.” He heads towards the door. “Your purse and phone are on the island.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have a few calls to make.”

“Oh.” I fetch my phone, bracing myself for the barrage of missed calls and messages. I’m not wrong. “Shit.” I call Abbie first, and the moment she answers, I get a request to switch to FaceTime. Fuck it. I cringe and accept, lowering to a stool.

Abbie takes me in, the sheet, my hair, probably my swollen lips, then looks past me. “You fucking idiot,” she breathes.

“You’d call me something harsher if you saw me last night.”

“Wait. I’m getting Charley on the call. You will face both of us.”

I sink farther onto the stool, making myself small, as Charley joins, Ena on her hip. She scans me, the background. “You fucking idiot,” she breathes.

“She is,” Abbie grunts. “What happened?”

“He showed up at the club.” I still don’t know who told him I was there. Does it matter? “It was ... heated.”

“And what’s his excuse for being a deceitful fucktart?”

“He has no excuse. He has an arrangement with Katherine, and her husband knows.”

“I don’t get it,” Charley breathes.

“Me either,” I admit. “But it’s over and—”

“You’re under.” Abbie raises her brows. “Amelia!”

“I can’t help it,” I cry. “I look at him and disintegrate. I get this funny feeling inside of me, and it feels so good. He touches me, I melt. He talks, I shiver. I smell him and could faint.”

“Jesus.” Charley passes Ena to Lloyd and gets closer to the camera. Yes. This is serious.

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