KATE
I bounce up the stairs and turn and give Elliot a wave; he smiles and gives me a playful salute.
I smile and push the door open. “Hey,” I call to Rebecca.
She comes rushing out of her room. “Oh my God, what happened?” She looks at her watch. “You’re only getting home now? Holy crap, I need all the details.”
“Well . . .” I give her a coy smile and shrug. “It went well . . . I think.”
“What happened?” She lies along the back of the couch.
“We went to dinner and ate in a private dining room.”
“Private dining?”
“Then we went back to his house and it’s a wonder that I can walk.”
Her eyes widen. “You had sex? You never fuck on first dates.”
“I know, but damn it, I should. Because I had the best night ever.”
She smiles dreamily. “Are you seeing him again?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When?”
“He’s picking me up in three hours, actually.”
“Ooh, date the next day, he is keen.”
“We’re going away for a week.”
“What?” She sits up so fast that she overbalances and falls over the back of the couch, lands spectacularly on the ground, and smashes her elbow. “Oww.”
“Oh my God, are you okay?” I rush to her side and help her up. She rubs her elbow. “That fucking hurt.”
I chuckle as I help her to her feet. “Pretty funny, but.”
“You’re going away with him?” she asks, horrified.
“Yeah, what’s that look for?”
“You don’t even know him.”
“So?”
“Are you staying in the same room? What happens when you need to take a crap?”
I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.
“What happens if you fart, or snore . . . or . . .” She throws her hands up in dismay. “Dribble in your sleep? This is a logistical nightmare, Kate. You can’t impress a man with a week-long stayover.”
I stare at her as the horrifying scenarios play in slow motion through my mind. “I didn’t think of that.”
“What happened to playing hard to get?”
“Oh, who cares.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “He made me come at dinner, I’m pretty sure there is no playing hard to get.”
Her eyes widen to saucer size. “You orgasmed at dinner?”
I wince. “Kind of.”
“How did you kind of come?”
I puff air into my cheeks as I realize how this is going to sound. “Dry-humped him while he sat on his chair.”
Rebecca’s eyes pop from her head and she slaps her hand over her mouth as I burst out laughing. “Look, I know how this sounds.”
“Do you? But do you really? You’re going to fall in love with him and he’ll lose interest because he hasn’t had to chase you . . . at all. And then you’ll be brokenhearted.”
I laugh. She’s so damn dramatic. “Or . . . we could just be having fun and using each other for sex, while spending time on a beach in the sun with some cocktails.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“Look, we’ve had the talk, I know exactly where I stand with him. He’s not looking for a relationship and neither am I,” I reply. “I just . . . I want to enjoy myself for a while without worrying about the future.”
“Since when? Last time I knew, you were searching for Mr. Right to be the father of your children.”
“Will you stop?” I snap in exasperation. “Don’t read into this, I’m not. It’s a week in the sun.” I march over to the door and open it in a rush, gesture out the front at the blizzard conditions. “Snowy London isn’t that appealing over the Christmas holiday, Rebecca. I have a week off left, and look.” I point out at the snow. “What the hell am I going to do here in this?”
She stares at me.
“It’s one week and I’m not stupid.” I march up the stairs. “It’s Elliot Miles, for fuck’s sake, as if he could break my heart.”
“You’re delusional,” she calls after me.
“And you’re a drama queen,” I call back with a roll of my eyes. I flop onto my bed. Fuck’s sake.
I lie for a moment and feel sorry for myself-hate that she isn’t excited for me.
A broad smile crosses my face . . . To hell with her, because I am.
Right. I stare at the open suitcase on my bed: what else do I need for a romantic getaway with a sex god?
Hmm. I go through my list.
Passport check.
Bikinis check.
Sunscreen check.
Date dresses check.
Lingerie check.
Shoes check.
Books check.
Laptop check.
Sweater check.
Toiletry bag check.
Phone charger check.
Contraceptive pills check.
Lubricant check, check, and double check. I’m so fucking sore that it’s a joke.
The man’s an animal. I smile-not that I’m complaining. It’s definitely a hurt-so-good scenario.
I stare at the suitcase for a moment while I think what else I could possibly need.
I smile and go to my closet.
Red netball dress touchdown.
An hour later, my email pings and I smile. It’s Ed-I have his notification as a different sound.
Hi Pinkie,
How are you?
What’s new?
I smile and reply:
I’m great, how was your date with the toilet cleaner?
Nerves swirl in my stomach as I see the dots. He’s typing.
Incredible.
My eyes widen and I put my hands over my mouth in surprise.
What?
I smile broadly and can hardly contain my excitement to write back.
Incredible is a strong word.
What was so good about it?
I see the dots and do a little dance on the spot. I knew he felt it too.
It’s not just me.
Her, she is . . .
There are no words for how hot this woman is.
Let’s just say it was a great night.
I’m taking her away today for a week, so I may not have internet service to email you.
I giggle out loud in excitement. Oh wow, for the first time I feel optimistic about us. Perhaps this trip will bring out more of my Edgar in Elliot.
God, I hope so.
Taking her away?
Wow.
What brought that on?