Page 60 of One Night Only
“I’m so jealous.”
I slide self-consciously back down the bed. “We’re finished talking now.”
“And this is the perfect time for a run.”
“Leave please.”
“You can blow off all that steam.”
My pillow hits the door as she skips out of the room.
A sex dream.
I mean it’s not like I’ve never had one, but it’s been a while and they’ve never been so vivid before. So… lifelike.
He’d been wearing his tuxedo. Do I have a tuxedo thing now?
I close my eyes and throw out my hand, hitting the mattress in what is an extremely disorientating experience.
Disorientating because I can still feel Declan beside me.
Can still feel him in other places too.
Not that that’s not easy to explain. I haveneedsafter all. I’m young and alive and he’s…
Flashes of the dream overlap with memories of our last night together until I can’t separate one from the other.
It was better in the dream. He didn’t talk so much there. Didn’t make me want to kick him in the shins like I usually feel like doing when I’m around him. And when he did talk it was in my ear and on my skin, a muffled rasp that I…
I suck in a breath, stretching my fingers as though reaching for him.
“Get up!” Claire yells and I sit up so fast the room spins.
* * *
Later that day, I stand in line at the deli waiting impatiently for the man in front of me to make up his mind about his damn sandwich order.
“It was amazing, Sarah,” Annie says in my ear. “I felt like I could have stayed there forever. I almost…” She trails off with a yawn. Her third in the last minute.
“Do you want to hang up?”
“No,” she says. “Just allow me some long pauses and muddled words.”
“So you’re still glad you married him?” I ask as the man deliberates over pastrami. “Sounds like you haven’t killed each other yet.”
“It’s so stupid,” she says quietly. “I know it’s just a contract. But the staff at the hotel kept calling meMrs.Murphy and I would catch myself looking at him and all I could keep thinking was that’s my husband, that’s my husband.”
“There’s a reason they call it the honeymoon period.”
“I know it won’t last. I don’t want it to. It would be exhausting. But it’s nice. Even with the humidity and the bugs and the food poisoning. It’s perfect.”
“That’s good,” I murmur as the guy finally settles on tuna on rye. It takes a second for Annie’s words to register. “Wait. What food poisoning?”
I order a bagel with cream cheese as Annie starts to tell me about some dubious-looking prawns Paul ate the first night and I’m caught between pity and laughing when my phone buzzes with a second call.
“Hold on,” I say, digging it out from my pocket. “Someone’s on the other line.” I check the caller ID and stop in surprise. “It’s my dad,” I say, immediately worried. The last time he called it was because my grandma was in the hospital. “I should take it.”
“Of course. I’ll let you know my flight details. Say hi to your dad for me.”
