Oh god.
He wouldn’t find me. He didn’t give me his number because he didn’t want me to call him. Right? I mean, why not just give me the damn phone number?
“I could give you my phone number?” I shrugged. You know … so I could obsess over why he wasn’t calling me. That was always a good time.
“True. Or I could just see you soon.” He opened my door with my keycard, handed it to me, and winked before sauntering toward the elevator.
My mouth fell open. No numbers were exchanged. That wasn’t good. Not good at all.
Goodbye, tall, sexy, runway model who can ski and nearly make me orgasm just by biting the pad of my thumb.
I would never see him again, unless just by chance. Then it would be awkward. That, “Hey, didn’t we share buns and bubble tea?” followed by fading smiles and an uncomfortable silence.
Au revoir. No … I think that was more of an “until we see each other again,” which was unlikely. Maybe “adieu.” If I recalled correctly (after three years of French), it was the goodbye you gave someone for the last time. “Until God.” Yes, I thought it was more final.
Adieu, Ronin Alexander.
Just before I shut my door, Graham opened the door to their suite across the hallway. He’d changed from his suit to navy silk pajamas with white piping. “Thought I heard you out here.”
I grinned, eyeing his getup. “I’m sure those pajamas cost around a grand, but they make you look like an old man. Where’s Lila? Finishing the job on her own?” I smirked.
Graham narrowed his eyes, closing his door and crossing into my territory, forcing me to retreat and let him inside my room. I frowned. It was the early hours of the morning. My dream guy just left me. I wasn’t in the mood to have a pajama party with Graham.
“I can’t sleep.” He gave me a matter-of-fact look.
“I can. I’m actually really good at it.”
He brushed past me, flipping on the light by the king-sized bed and plunking onto it with his back against the headboard. On an exasperated sigh, I closed the door, grabbed my nightshirt, and slipped into the bathroom, sliding the door shut.
“Why did you ditch me after we slept together?”
I paused while removing my dress, narrowing my eyes at the floor, questioning if I heard him correctly. My brain had already turned off the lights. There was no way I’d answer him. I continued to get ready for bed.
“Did you have to convince Lila to be with me? To give me a chance? I wanted to do it on my own, you know? That was the point.”
I rolled my eyes as I brushed my teeth. Graham’s nightcap must have been laced with an overdose of insecurity. He didn’t sound like a thirty-six-year-old man planning on making a run for governor. Everyone needed a dumping ground for their insecurities. I was Lila’s. She was mine. But I was also Graham’s. It wasn’t fair that I got dumped on twice.
After washing my face, I eased open the door and yawned, hoping he’d get the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for that conversation. Slipping under the covers, I snuggled onto my side with my back to him.
Hint. Hint.
He scooted down, inching closer to me so his head rested on my pillow just behind mine. “My father said you weren’t good enough for me. A nice girl, but not focused.”
I flipped around facing him, eyes squinted. “I don’t like this bedtime story. Got a different one?”
Graham wasn’t like a brother or a cousin to me because we had, in fact, had sex. We were overly acquainted friends, a different dynamic than my friendship with Lila. I’d known her longer. I would have jumped in front of a bus to save her life.
Graham? Well, I’m not sure I would have leapt in front of a bus, but I might have warned him with a really loud scream, and I would have been the first to call for an ambulance. I definitely would have donated blood to save his life, and maybe even a kidney like my sister donated to my father because she was the best match.
“I used you to make Lila jealous. I’m sorry. I think I even used you to piss off my father.”
“Glad I could assist you in pissing off your father. But newsflash, dickhead, sleeping with a woman’s best friend is not the way to make her jealous. Lila greeted me at the door with a can of disinfectant after I left your apartment that night. She knew you were a walking STD. And honestly, I was embarrassed that I’d stooped so low. Let myself get that drunk.”
“Wow, Evie … don’t sugarcoat it.”
“Coming from the guy who is ninety percent amazing to me. Really … you’re there for me when Lila’s busy. You’ve advocated for my family, for my dad. I honestly consider you my best guy friend. But that other ten percent of the time you are a cruel asshole.”