12
The mattress sank. Cold skin agitated her cosy slumber.
“Hey, babe,” came a whisper in her ear.
Lana rolled over to find Rory snuggled up in their puffy duvet, eyes like slits.
“You okay?” he muttered.
Seriously, is that all he could say?Afterhe fucked off and left her alone in the devil’s lair so he could cheat on her with a pretty little brunette.
At least her escapade was harmless heavy petting.
She cleared her parched throat. “I’m fine. Did you have sex?”
A slow breath left his lungs. “I sure did, babe. She was a right fire cracker!”
Her heart pinched. “Oh really—in what way?” She fluffed her pillow with deep punches.
“Shhh, babe, we can talk about this after sleep. I just need sleep,” he murmured.
Checking her phone, Lana realised that it was 7 a.m., Sunday morning. Having returned home just after midnight, she had fallen into an alcohol-induced coma.
Cursing the gin for her pounding head, she grabbed the packet of pills from her bedside cabinet and snapped two out onto her palm, knocking them back with a slurp of lukewarm water.
Rory grunted in a semi snore, he was asleep. Did he look any different now that she knew? He still had those cute soft lips and fair eyelashes, but those same lips had been on some random girl’s skin – hopefully just her mouth.
Lana’s stomach heaved, imagining the possibilities of his sordid sexual affair and her lungs shuddered with disgust.
Nevertheless, a seismic shift had cracked through her heart, and she couldn’t shake off the memory of last night.
After Rory’s ‘fire cracker’ confession, she ought to be seething, spitting fury at him in a green-eyed rage but in reality, she was more upset at Marcus’s rebuff than her boyfriend’s infidelity.
After thoroughly scrubbing the kitchen and mopping the floors, Lana poured herself a strong coffee, dribbling in the last of her almond milk.
The best way to forget a hangover was to clean, with the addition of pain relief and caffeine. The best way to forget the face of Marcus McGrath was to…damn it. The entire time she wiped another surface, his handsome face popped into her thoughts, even when she vacuumed, her mind wandered to his mesmerising green eyes glittered with flecks of gold.
She had never encountered an eye colour so captivating and unique before. They were something else entirely, with the ability to reach right inside her.
The floor boards creaked above head as Rory clicked on the shower, it was a quarter past three in the afternoon, and he had finally emerged from a deep sleep.
Lana had so many questions to ask him about last night, and a weight of dread sat heavily in her belly. Before they decided to join the club officially, they had discussed this very situation umpteen times, both of them promising to always be honest, no matter what.
She had waited patiently all morning to find out what happened with his firecracker, yet if he crawled back into bed and delayed the inevitable conversation, then she would be happy enough to put off a while longer.
Rory bounced down the stairs, a large bath towel draped around his slender hips, his hair sopping wet.
“Mornin’, Lan,” he chirped like the cat who got a taste of the cream and made off with the whole lot.
Her lips slowly curved upwards. “Hey, you, do want coffee?” She raised the jug. “There’s plenty left.” Knots twisted her stomach and nerves stuck in her throat like flitting insects.
She watched him pour coffee into his ‘She’s Da Boss’ mug, which Lana had bought him after a difference of opinion over paint. He relented without too much persuasion, so she purchased the mug by way of a joke to remind him who wore the trousers.
Rory flopped down beside her on the leather corner sofa, tipping his head backwards. His rich chocolate eyes lingered on her face and she could feel her cheeks pink under his scrutiny.
She stayed quiet, wondering who was going to talk about last night first.
After a few seconds of silence, Rory spoke. “You okay, Lana?” His voice was low. “Did you meet someone last night?”