Sure, I’ve had the impulse to strangle him more times than I can count, but that’s as deep as my violent streak goes.
It’s been a few days since we slept together, and ever since I left the penthouse I haven’t been able to stop replaying that night in my head—each delectable moment—while also battling regret over offering myself up to him like that with no strings attached.
Because what happens now? Are we going to talk things out? Will we never speak of that night again? What’s our status? Are we still fighting?
The thing is, as much as I wish I had all the answers, the bigger part of me doesn’t regret a thing. I miss Luka, and sharing a few intimate moments with him only served to remind me of the fact that despite everything we’ve been through, we have a true and unbreakable connection.
At least, I think we do.
Shaking my thoughts away, I ask, “So what exactly am I agreeing to tonight?”
“Just dinner. Drinks for you and Emzee. Dancing…for you and Emzee.”
I make a soothing sound. “Awww, you might not be able to drink while pregnant, but there aren’t any rules against dancing, Tor.” I think about that a second. “Wait, are there? I guess I wouldn’t really know.”
She laughs. “No, no rules against it. I’m just more of the slow-waltzing type than the shaking-my-booty type. Anyway, Top Lounge at seven?”
The Top is a fancy club in downtown Chicago that usually takes months to get people in for a reservation. Unless you’re a Zoric, of course. I’ve never been there, though, and I’ve been dying to go. How can I pass it up? It’s not like I have anything else to do.
“Sounds perfect,” I agree. “I’ll meet you two there.”
After I hang up, it hits me: How much does Luka’s family know about what’s going on between me and him? I know they noticed my late arrival to the trial two days ago. I also know that sometimes Luka confides in Stefan—or, more accurately, Stefan coerces confidences out of his younger brother. But if the Zorics know I’ve left Luka, they haven’t called me out on it yet.
The more I think about it, the more wary I become. Perhaps this girls’ night is really just an information-mining endeavor. But even if it is, I need to know what they’re all thinking and saying about me and Luka, if they’re aware of the trouble between us at all. I guess girls’ night will be a chance for all of us to dig for intel. Plus, I love my sisters-in-law. I can’t begrudge them for their curiosity and concern.
Flopping back onto the sofa, I stare at the ceiling. Mr. Kibbles whines at me from his place on the floor. I know that whine. It’s one of the few reasons I leave the apartment anymore.
As we take a long walk around the neighborhood, I ponder what to wear tonight, and what kind of legitimate-sounding excuse I can give Tori and Emzee if I get mopey and want to leave early. Since nobody knows that I don’t have any jobs booked right now—I’d kept my schedule wide open this month in anticipation of being busy with the Maxilene gig—I figure I can just pretend I have a shoot in the morning.
I still can’t decide if my open calendar is a curse or a blessing. On the one hand, I’m glad I can just veg out and mourn the ruination of my marriage, but on the other hand it would be a welcome distraction to have a paid gig right now. And it doesn’t seem likely that any new jobs are going to come in without Luka pitching me…so I can only imagine what will happen to my career if I go through with the divorce.
Once we get back, I put Mr. Kibbles in his crate with some toys and a treat-stuffed Kong and start digging through my luggage for the outfit I have in mind. I find it and leave it hanging in the bathroom while I shower to let any wrinkles fall out. It’s a shimmery black dress with a lace overlay, the back scooped low to my mid-back. It might be too fancy for a girls’ night out, but after all this time slouching around Shay’s apartment, I’m excited for any excuse to dress up.
I quickly dry off and apply a touch of makeup, hoping to be out of here before my roommate gets back. Shay’s nice and all, but sharing