Page 39 of Host for the Holidays
I fiddle with my door handle to give them fair warning that I’m coming out. I don’t want the image of Madi kissing that jerk emblazoned on my mind forever. Heisa jerk, for the record. I wasn’t being unreasonable before, it turns out. I don’t like the way he treats Madi. It’s not outright rude, but that’s a pretty low bar for a boyfriend.
I open the door and glance toward the TV, which is on.
I make my way to the bathroom door, stopping as I get a small view of the couch. Josh’s head is tipped to the side. That’s no surprise. The guy has been asleep 75% of the time he’s spent in this apartment. Closer to 90%, probably. Is Madi sitting there watching alone, then?
I walk over quietly to check.
Immediate regret. Josh’s head is resting on Madi’s, both of them fast asleep, their fingers laced together on Josh’s leg.
Why is that picture like a gut punch? My eyes fixate on their hands, and I remember how I held Madi’s just a few hours ago. And maybe I’m crazy, but I could swear she didn’t want to let go. Until Josh texted her.
She let go real quickly at that point.Shedid. I knew I should, too, but the truth is, I would’ve kept holding her hand if she’d let me.
I’m the poster boy for pathetic right now, staring at the girl I like while she’s asleep. I turn away to head to the bathroom just as my phone breaks the silence with an absurdly loud text tone.
André:Hey, Rémy. I’ve been meaning to check in, but time keeps getting away from me. How are things going?
I glance at Madi as she readjusts on the couch. Has a woman ever looked so angelic?
My fingers hover over the keyboard. What do I say?Hey, things are going great, man. Just falling for your guest like a lovesick puppy, even though she’s spoken for. If you get a 1-star review, it’ll be because I can’t keep my hands or eyes to myself. Have a good night.
Rémy:Things are going great. I understand your wanting to check in, but you really don’t need to worry about a thing over here. Just focus on spending time with your mom. I’m taking care of things, and everything is fine *thumbs up*
André:I owe you. Is the guest difficult?
I glance over at Madi again. Oh, she’s difficult all right. Difficult to stop thinking about. Difficult not to wrap my arms around. Difficult to see with that guy.
Rémy:Not at all. She’s as good as you could have hoped for.
And if she weren’t leaving in two weeks, I’d be tempted to fight like heck to steal her away from Josh. Madi teased me about wearing a Captain America suit underneath my clothes earlier, but if I could have a superpower right now, I’d choose superspeed. That way, I could pick up Josh, chuck him through the window, and slip into his place on the couch next to Madi, sliding my fingers through hers.
That image alone is making me feel things a guy shouldn’t feel for a taken woman. I pocket my phone and head to the bathroom where I brush my teeth for way longer than normal as I try to drown out the thought of Madi—and wait for Josh to leave.
This is it, my friends. Rock bottom—when you’re 26 and stalling your bedtime routine to get a “good night” from some other guy’s girlfriend.
But Josh is still there when I head to my room. He’s awake now—probably thanks to André’s text—and is looking at his phone, typing away on a text.
He glances up at me and immediately turns off his phone screen.
“’Sup,” he says.
I smile—or maybe it’s a grimace. “I’m just heading to bed. Good night.”
Tonight, my superpower will have to be clean teeth.
* * *
Madi’s sittingat the table, a wheel of Camembert cheese (a new one because she already ate the last one) and a fresh baguette from the boulangerie down the street in front of her. This has become her go-to breakfast, and it’s amazing how much I can want a woman whose diet staple is smelly cheese.
Her hair is up in a lopsided ponytail, secured with a scrunchie and giving all the I-woke-up-like-dis vibes. She’s not Beyonce. She’s better. Airbrushed celebrity sexy is overrated, butthis. . . this is massively underrated.
I’ve watched a lot of American films over the course of my life in an effort to keep up and perfect my English, and all of them tell me the proper move right now is to go over and kiss Madi on the forehead. Thankfully, I have a behavior filter. I also have a passable memory, which is great because it helps me remember that I fell asleep alone in my room while Madi and Josh cuddled until late. I wonder how André would feel about instituting a curfew on his guests’ guests.
“Morning, Rémy,” she says with a sleepy smile.
“Good morning,” I reply, filling up the kettle at the sink.
“Do you hate me for sleeping on the couch again?”
