Page 10 of Trouble in Love
At least the room next to mine had silenced, meaning Asher and Teddy had either fallen asleep or fucked themselves into a coma. The hot-as-sin noises coming through my wall provided me with plenty of spank bank material, but not even coming like a damn king seconds after Ash cried Teddy’s name could wear me out.
By midnight, I’d had a hot bath, gorged on room service, and then foolishly tried to walk it off by pacing circles in my five-star, two-thousand-dollar-a-night room. But as beautiful as it and the sweeping views of Sydney harbor were, I’d had enough. I threw on some clothes, grabbed my keycard, and headed out.
It was Saturday night, so the streets were abuzz. People were spilling out of restaurants and stumbling into clubs, pumping dance music so loud it pulsed in my veins. After sleep and physical rehab, staying out of trouble was my number one priority. Avoiding any bar seemed important. And I did… until I wandered by one called SWING. Unlike most I’d seen with the interior shielded from the street, the exterior of SWING had ground-to-ceiling windows allowing a view of candle-lit tables and elegant patrons taunting me with smiling, laughing faces.
I hated those people.
Clara and Dallas were those people.What was she doing right now? Was she living her best life? Lying in bed, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved? The man who wasn’t me?
The bitter burn of rejection soured my mouth, my well-intentioned promise of sobriety slipping from my grasp.Maybe one drink won’t hurt.
Something shifted inside me as my foot crossed the threshold of SWING. An energy, a pull unrelated to that of the alcohol, drew me to a set of double doors at the rear of the room like it was meant to be. They swung open, a sea of bodies parted, and there she was—a raven-haired beauty. The most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.
In one thumping heartbeat, I knew how my night would end.
Polly
As daughter to the Greekest mother to have never set foot inside Greece, my spinsterdom was the cause of her longstanding shame and embarrassment—a fact I was reminded of daily with text messages designed to keep me on my toes. One she’d sent me earlier had cycled through my brain all day.
Mother dear: Polly, Janet Myers was at the shops this morning, proudly showing photos of Evie and Nate’s second set of twins to anyone remotely interested. God has truly blessed them. Thought you’d like to know.
“Really, Mum? You thought I would like to know?”
You’re over it, Polly. You’re strong now.
I jumped off the treadmill, ignored my nearby water bottle, and reached for the wine instead, its notes of cherry, raspberry, and plum un-savored as I critiqued every inch of the body I strived to perfect. Zeroing in on the fat around my abdomen, I pinched it between my fingers and hummed.
Maybe another thirty minutes.
Before I could resume my rage run, my phone vibrated with a call. It was sure to be Mum. I’d ignored her since that Evie message, and it was almost nine pm. if I didn’t answer, she would keep going all night, and I had a life to live… plus three episodes of Love Island to catch up on.A wave of relief washed over the second I saw the screen. Holly. My sister. My savior. The one person I would never ignore. Most of the time.
“Hey, Holly. How are you going? Is Piper feeling better?” Piper was my niece. She was three years old and cute as a button… if you’re into kids. She had also been sick with a nasty cold for the past week and needed many extra doses of Aunty Polly’s special cuddles.
“She’s fine, Pol. I’m more interested in how you are. Mum called to tell me about Evie. Would I be correct to presume she’s told you, too, and that you’re now on the treadmill or drunk?”
“You know me, sis. Why settle for one when you can have both.” Forcing a laugh that was fooling no one, I padded back to my treadmill, placed my wineglass in its little spot designed for water bottles, and climbed aboard. “Sorry that she’s turned to bugging you. She never misses the opportunity to remind me of my past. Or that I’m a massive failure and I couldn’t hear it again. Not tonight, anyway. I’m about to get my Love Island freak on.”
I expected a giggle or request for my latest escapade. Instead, I heard a drawn-out, exaggerated groan that reeked of disappointment. “Freak you may be, but you’re not a failure, Pol. You just haven’t found your place in the world yet.”
“See, that’s where we disagree. I do know my place. It’s full of fire, brimstone, and hot guys with massive pokers to poke me with.”
That got the giggle. “Hmm. That sounds good. Reece hasn’t given me a good poke in a while.”
“What are you doing talking to me, then? Hang up and go jump that hot husband of yours.”
“Yeah, right. Piper owns the side of the bed I used to call mine. I’m like a mangy old cat that has to curl up on the end between everyone’s legs and gets kicked in the head every five seconds. Call me tomoz?”
“Nope.”
“Great. Night Plop. Love you.”
Plop. Damn, I hated it, hence why she’d called me that for almost thirty years. “Night, Holsten.”
“Oh, and Ploppy.” Holly hollered, catching me just before I hung up, “Get off the treadmill and go out with Luna. I know you went to the gym this morning. Stop punishing yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I scoffed, disconnecting and slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Stop punishing myself. I’ve hardly begun.”
Love Island be dammed.
