27
“Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa,” Lana slurred, downing the last drop of Prosecco.
Amanda sat opposite, her legs tucked beneath her buttocks, wearing chequered all in one pyjamas.
The cosy one-bedroom city apartment was minuscule compared to the vast open space that Marcus occupied when he stayed in the city. A cute living space and minuscule kitchen were combined, with one door leading off to a tiny bedroom and another to a shower room no bigger than a shoe closet.
Bon Jovi’s Livin’ on a Prayer, from the best of the ’80s playlist filled the background while the girls drank the fruity fizz, putting the world to rights.
“No probs, Lan. I’m sorry it came to this,” she said softly, resting her hand on Lana’s shoulder. “You did the right thing leaving Rory. Without trust, your relationship is doomed.”
Wrapped in a fleece blanket, Lana hugged her knees, holding the champagne flute out for more.
“From the minute I met McGrath, my world changed. You were right. I had to admit it to myself. I love Rory… I really do. I’m just not in love with him. There’s no spark. No chemistry. No mind melting urge to rip his clothes off.” She hiccuped.
Amanda pranced over to the fridge in fluffy unicorn slippers and collected another bottle, popping the cork. They both cheered in unison as it catapulted across the room, ricocheting off the wall and missing theirs heads by a whisker.
“Do you really think he was cheating on you?” Amanda sank into the arm chair opposite Lana.
“My gut is always right. It’s like a well-tuned instrument—implement—intuitive thing, whatever—it works.” Lana’s palmed her cheeks to stop the dizziness when her head moved. “Don’t worry, I’m going to rent my own apartment as soon as possible and start over with my life. I need to be me for a while. Take up some hobbies or something.” She reached forward and messily clanked her glass with Amanda’s.
“You should let Marcus know that you’re single now.” Amanda raised an eyebrow and hummed.
Lana slugged the bubbles back. “No way. I need time for myself. Anyway, the way that guy makes me feel isn’t healthy. It’s fucked up.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Him… and his monster cock.” She hiccupped again.
Amanda gasped, her groggy eyes suddenly wide and intrigued. “Seriously, hot and well-hung. Damn, girl. What are you waiting for? A one-night stand for rebound sex is a fantastic idea. Zero hassle and zero commitment. You’ve just broken up with your fiancé, and Marcus clearly has a commitment phobia. It’s a win, win situation.”
The possibility of spending one night with Marcus had merits. She wanted to know how good it would feel to be under him, but mostly she just wanted his lips all to herself.
Surely, one night of sex would help to stamp out the heat burning between her thighs. Perhaps this could be the new carefree and non-committal, Lana.
“Maybe I should…”
Amanda shrieked, her curls flinging off her shoulders as she bounced on the chair and snatched Lana’s phone. “Call him. Plant the seed that you’re in Single Town.”
Lana expelled a long breath. “I don’t have his number.”
“Lan, a guy like him must have a secretary?” She raised a skeptical brow.
“Wait. Yes, there is someone who could pass him a message.”
She scrolled through her contact list. “There she is,” she enunciated with a slow slur, scrutinising the small letters blurring on the screen.
The contact answered, “Donna Marie, speaking.”
“Oh. Hi. I need to speak to Mr. Marcus, I mean McGrath. Marcus McGrath. Please.”
“Who am I speaking with?” Donna Marie hissed down the line unimpressed with Lana’s drunken nonsense.
“Lana Craig. Is he there?”
“Lana, Mr. McGrath handed the running of the club to me, so if you have any queries, please feel free to direct them my way,” she replied coolly.
“I need to speak to him quickly,” she pleaded.