The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,121
knew better than the rest of the world. That we could willfully resist love.
I stamp out my cigarette and head back into the bar to tell Pico I’m borrowing his bike.
I need to get to the city fast—before Amelia loses all faith in me.
TWENTY-NINE
AMELIA
The bath I prepared earlier looks pathetic, the bubbles having fizzed and melted over an hour ago. I feel too pathetic to get in alone. I yank out the plug. The drain gurgles and sucks as I put on my robe and head into the kitchen. I put away the twenty-five-year-old bottle of premium Glenlivet I spent way too much money on during my walk home from the baby shower.
It’s past eleven. Four hours since I dressed in a silky, red La Perla negligée. Two hours since I drew a bath, hoping Andrew and I could sink right in, no bullshit, and get things figured out.
Well, I figured it out, but apparently too late. I want him. I know the price, and I’m willing to pay it. Even though it means putting my heart on the line again, that I might end up worse off, I can’t stop wondering what it’s like at that kitchen table with Bell. How it would be to crawl into Andrew’s bed each night. I’ve glimpsed a different kind of life, and while it was exciting at first, now it feels like a sickness—I won’t ever be able to rid my mind of that happy picture that was within my grasp.
I get the Glenlivet back out. Might as well indulge—there’s nobody to save it for. Maybe someone exists out there for me. Andrew’s shown me I could be capable of love again. But the thought that that someone isn’t Andrew makes my throat thick. That someone won’t pry me open with bubble baths and good liquor. He won’t force me to see that my pettiness over the divorce hurts me more than it helps me. He won’t have Bell. I can’t believe a month ago, I thought work was the most important thing in the world.
There’s a knock at the door, jarring me from my thoughts. My heart, which was firmly planted in my stomach, soars. It can’t be him. I’m not that lucky.
But it has to be.
My legs wobble as I leave the kitchen—fear, excitement, and adrenaline rushes through me. I can’t even wrap my head around what this means.
Andrew came for me.
Despite all the promises we made each other to keep love out of it, he’s here. It’s more than a bath and a drink. More than sex. He wants to make this work as much as I do.
This is real.
“It’s open,” I call. I want his arms around me. After floating in uncertainty for a week, I need to be grounded by him. The door opens, and I stop to untie my robe. My skin flushes as I anticipate his hands on me, the look on his face when he sees me in red.
When Reggie walks through the door, I’m confused. Disoriented. I clutch my robe instinctively, tying the sash. In that same second, he locks the door. “Bonjour, muffie,” he says as he walks toward me.
The hope and excitement I’d felt over getting Andrew back dissolves. Reggie’s in front of me in an instant, looking me over with bloodshot eyes, grinning so hard he’s sneering.
“Why so tense?” he asks when I retreat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The disappointment that Andrew isn’t coming is as crushing the second time as it was moments ago. It’s as heartbreaking as my irritation with Reggie is pervasive. “What are you doing here?”
He chuckles and loosens his tie, undoing the top button of his dress shirt. “What am I doing in my own home?” His cheeks and nose are unnaturally red. “Have a drink with me, muffin.”
“For the last time, stop calling me that.”
“I only do it because it bothers you. It’s better than getting no reaction from you. Surely you’re smart enough to realize that by now. Aren’t you?”
Either I realized it and reacted anyway, or I’m an idiot for not seeing it. I look away. “I don’t want you here. You need to go.”
He holds out an arm, showing me to the kitchen. “Just one drink. I’m celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” I ask warily.
“I’ve got a new venture on the horizon.” He lumbers toward me, and to keep my distance, I let him steer me into the kitchen. “Those fuckers thought they could fire me, but they forget what I know.”