Page 15 of The Seven Month Itch
Stop it.
“Still true, but there’s something about this place that makes me want to relax. So I slept in.”
He nods.
The clank of dishes echoes behind him. A room service attendant glances between us. “Hi, madam. Do you need another place setting for your breakfast?”
Terrence responds first. “That’s not necessary. Enjoy your breakfast, Jay.” He disappears down the hall.
How many times will we run into each other?
Chapter 7
Justice
“You look rested.” Emma stands to greet me at our table for lunch. Her thick, mahogany hair falls on bare shoulders above her cream sweater. She’s camera-ready in black vegan leather pants and camel-colored thigh-high boots.
I take my seat and transport to a café in France. People sip from little espresso cups at their bistro tables. Black and white tiles checker across the floor to a handcrafted black bar that spans the length of the back wall. We’re still in Colorado, but this restaurant gives serious Parisian vibes. Paris is a beautiful city. One that holds lots of memories…with Terrence.
Our server comes by with coffee and takes our orders. My stomach gurgles with zero shame at visions of a sweet crêpe. I need to stuff my face and stop thinking about my ex.
“When did you have time to change? I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Emma doesn’t have on the clothes she wore to themixer. Unless she visited one of the boutiques this morning, it’s one heck of a magic trick.
Her narrowed eyes suggest the answer is obvious. She looks down at the oversize designer bag beside her. “I always pack an overnight bag, in case the sex is good and I want seconds in the morning.”
“And if it’s not?”
She leans closer and grins. “Then the only walk of shame is not getting good dick.”
It’s hard not to laugh. Em should teach a master class in confidence, the sexual and self-esteem kind. She’s blunt, knows what she wants, and gets what she deserves.
“Looks like things worked out for you last night.” I nod to her black vegan leather bag.
She adjusts her bracelets and settles her gaze on me. The edges of her mouth rise, and I sigh. Let the interrogation begin. “Let me guess. You ran into Terrence and sprinted back to the room early?”
Bingo.
My eyes fall on my coffee cup. I take a long sip to delay the play-by-play I don’t want to relive. Once was bad enough. “He came over, had a brunette following him, and left me with said brunette. Pass the croissants.”
“How are you doing with Terrence here?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Phil, how would you be if your estranged husband were here?”
She looks at me like I threatened to make her wear flats for the rest of her life. “Don’t be foolish, Jay. I don’t do relationships. There would be no exes to care about or consider.”
Thirty-five minutes of nonstop questions pass before the server returns with our food. If the CIA ever tries to torture me for answers, I’ll be ready. Blueberries splash across my tongue as I bite into my crêpe. The whipped cream is smooth and light.
I look up and roll my eyes.
Emma can stare at me while I stuff my face all she wants. We’re not talking about this. “I’m fine.” I stab my food for another bite. “Just like I was fine when he showed up at our door this morning looking for another woman.”
Heads turn at the clang of her fork falling to her plate. My eyes sweep across the room. Anyone else want to get in my business? Pull up a chair.
Emma scrunches her face. “Who did he want to see?”
I wave my hands in the air to conjure up someone who knows. “He confused the room numbers and didn’t say.” I tilt my head. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t!” More eyes land on us, and my hands cover my face to conceal my identity. Why are we like this? She clears her throat. “It’s such a coincidence Terrence comes to your room, of all places. It’s like you two can’t escape each other if you try.”
