Page 89 of Hopeless
I jolt in my seat, hand turning to clamp onto Sloane’s as I stare at Summer. “What?”
“At the gym. I barely have time to do my own workouts anymore. I’m always at the front desk, or answering emails, or ordering this thing or that thing. Why don’t you just tell me what time of day is good for you and I’ll work with that.”
I straighten, my shoulders shimmying as I hold myself tall. “I don’t want you to pity hire me. That wasn’t what I was trying to do by telling you this.”
Summer shrugs and leans back in her seat. “I know. I asked you.”
My brows furrow. “Did Beau put you up to this?”
“You kidding me? Beau works all day and then rushes home or to the bar to hang out with you. I barely see him, let alone talk to him. He doesn’t even bring you around to the main house that often. He’s hogging you, if you ask me. This will be fun. We’re going to be sisters-in-law. We stick together now.”
A pang of guilt hits me hard and fast. She might not be singing this tune when Beau and I come to an end.
Come to an end.
That has a twinge of pain landing straight in my gut.
But I ignore every sensation and forge ahead with a cheerful smile. “I would love that.”
Summer smiles brightly, holding her champagne flute up to cheers me. “You’re hired!”
I need this. I need this to get out. I need this to survive, and I’ll get over the guilt eventually.
Leaving Beau behind, though?
It feels like I’ll never get over that.
25
Beau
Beau:Just got home. Where are you?
Bailey:How do most guys like a girl to have her pubic hair?
Beau:Bailey, honest to god. You can’t just lead with things like this.
Bailey:Can you just tell me? It’s hard to know. In porn, it’s nothing at all. But I know porn isn’t real life. So like, what am I supposed to do? What’s the norm out there?
Beau:Whatever you like best. Any guy who holds a strong opinion on how you style your pubic hair doesn’t deserve to be between your legs.
Bailey:So maybe a triangle or a strip? I can’t decide.
Beau:Decide some other time. When it doesn’t involve me.
Bailey:It’s the final hour over here. I’m in the bath. Razor in hand.
Beau:Why do you insist on asking me things like this?
Bailey:Because you’ve presumably seen a lot of pussies.
Beau:Bailey, just stop.
Ithought I was tired when I walked in the door. A sleepless night of mending Peaches followed by a very real kiss with my very fake fiancée means I slept like shit. Then I got up early to work with my very grumpy brother all fucking day.
I’m wrung out. Fried, if I’m being honest. Delirious maybe. I’ve never been as tired as I am at this moment, and that’s saying something for someone who was stranded in a cave in Afghanistan for several days.
But knowing Bailey is naked in my bath, asking for my input on how she shaves?
