Page 50 of Faking All the Way
She moves toward the attached bathroom, clutching the nightgown Beverly gave her. “I’ll just… change in here.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
She disappears into the old-fashioned looking bathroom, closing the door softly behind her. The idea of trying to sleep in dress pants sounds like torture, so I set down the toothpaste and toothbrush Beverly gave me, strip down to my boxers quickly while Kat is out of the room, then hang my suit carefully on the back of a chair, not wanting to wrinkle it more than necessary.
When she comes back out a few minutes later, I have to clench my jaw to keep my reaction off my face.
I thought she looked beautiful in that green dress when I picked her up earlier tonight. The way it hugged her curves, the way the color brought out her eyes. But fuck, she looks even better like this. The nightgown is old-fashioned and modest by any reasonable standard, with a slightly high neckline and long sleeves. But it’s made of some light, airy fabric that’s almost translucent in the soft lamplight. It makes me want to look closer, to see what’s just hinted at beneath the white cotton. To trace the curves I can barely make out.
Her gaze drops to my bare chest, lingering for a second before shooting back up to my face. Color floods her cheeks, pink spreading across her skin in a way that makes me wonder what else might make her blush like that.
I clear my throat and turn away, not wanting her to notice my body’s reaction to seeing her like this. “I can sleep on the floor,” I say, my voice a bit gruff. “It’s not a problem.”
“I can’t let you do that.” She makes a face, glancing down at the worn carpet. “You’ll be miserable.”
I arch a pointed eyebrow at her. “I’m sure as hell not going to let you sleep on the floor. I may not be a complete gentleman, but my mother raised me better than that. “
She bites her lip, and I try really hard not to focus on how soft her mouth looks. “Right. So that leaves…”
She trails off, and we both look at the bed. It’s a nice bed, queen-sized probably, with an antique quilt, a large headboard, and what look like expensive sheets. Plenty of room for two people.
“It should be big enough for both of us,” she says, although her voice hitches slightly. “And we’re grown adults. We can handle sleeping in the same bed, right?”
I swallow, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. The muscles there are tight, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders. “Yeah. Of course we can handle it.”
I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes Beverly provided, taking longer than necessary to get my scattered thoughts back in order. The cold water I splash on my face helps a little, but not enough. When I come back out, Kat has already turned off the lamp and climbed into bed, staying as far to one side as physically possible without falling off.
I climb in on the other side, keeping at least a foot of space between us. Maybe more. The mattress is comfortable, thesheets soft and clean-smelling. The snow outside reflects enough light through the curtains that I can see her face easily in the darkness. Her eyes are open, staring up at the ceiling as if she’s counting the shadows there.
“It was nice of your grandmother to let us stay,” I comment, needing to fill the silence for some reason. “To look out for us like that. She clearly cares about you a lot.”
Kat nods, her dark hair rustling against the pillow. “She’s always been protective of the people she loves. Sometimes overly so, but her heart is in the right place.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can hear the wind howling outside, snow pelting against the windows. Then she grimaces, her nose wrinkling in that way I’ve learned means she’s annoyed. “I can’t believe Daniel stayed so long. Or got that drunk.”
I snort. “I can.”
She turns her head on the pillow to look at me, a furrow appearing between her brows. “What do you mean?”
“I think Daniel stayed because of you.” I keep my voice low, very aware of how thin these old walls probably are. “You pointed out earlier that he wasn’t having a great time at the party, remember? Not his usual charming self.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So maybe he doesn’t like seeing you move on.” I shift slightly, turning on my side to face her. “Now he can’t keep telling himself that you’re pining for him, that you’re sitting at home alone wishing things had worked out differently. That his decision to leave was the right one.”
She makes a face, her mouth twisting with distaste. “I’m definitely not pining for Daniel. I would never want to be with him again. Not in a million years. Not if he was the last man on earth.”
The conviction in her voice is satisfying. But I’ve been watching Daniel all night, and even if she didn’t see the way he looked at her, I did.
A sudden impulse hits me. Maybe it’s the darkness, the intimacy of being in bed together with only the snow-reflected light between us. Maybe it’s just the fact that I’m annoyed I couldn’t kick Daniel out earlier like I wanted to and he’s sleeping one room over. But the idea forms fully before I can stop it, before I can think through whether it’s a good idea or a terrible one.
“I’m not sure Daniel gets that,” I say slowly. “But there’s an easy way to make him understand.”
She frowns, shifting onto her side to face me fully now. We’re closer like this, the space between us seeming to shrink. “What do you mean?”
I give her a look, dropping my voice even lower. “Imagine we were really together, bright eyes. What do you think we’d be doing in this room tonight?” I pause, letting that sink in. “What do you think he might overhear through these thin walls?”
Her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open in shock. “You want to…” she starts, then stops, apparently unable to finish the sentence.
