Page 104 of Without Apology

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Peyton

I woke with my stomach rolling. Out of pure instinct, I bolted from the bed in search of a bathroom. Luckily, there was only one door on my side of the room and a blissfully open toilet waiting for me to vomit into it. Not that there was much in my stomach. I felt someone behind me and hands pulling back my hair. Then a familiar British accent.

“You all right?”

Not exactly the reunion with Simon I’d pictured. “I think so.” Finally righting myself to vertical, I peered around the familiar bathroom of his condo. “I’m in New York?”

“You are, indeed. Emma brought you here last night. You were a bit passed out.”

Poor Emma. I’d hoped for her moral support, not actually having to babysit me. I took a deep breath, flushed the toilet, and moved to the sink to splash water on my face and rinse out my mouth. He handed me a new toothbrush, for which I was grateful. It got the awful taste out of my mouth. After that, I took the towel he offered and finally made eye contact with him in the mirror. But not before catching my own reflection.

Oh, good grief. Not only was my reunion the worst ever, but my appearance was even more abysmal. Pathetically, I smoothed my wild hair down even though the action wasn’t doing much. I looked down to see I was in my underwear and one of his soft T-shirts.

“What are the chances of a do-over whereby I shower, change, and go outside of your door to knock and pretend I’ve just arrived?”

He smirked, looking way to good in a—dammit—suit. Of course, he was in a suit.

“Zero chance, I’m afraid. However, I’ll bring in your suitcase, and feel free to take a shower while I order up food. I’ll also get you something for your head.”

“’Kay.” Because what else do you say to someone in a moment like this? Suddenly, all of the things I’d wanted to tell him were scrambled in my brain, drowned out by a terrible bass drum playing a beat of humiliation.

He came into the bedroom with my suitcase in one hand and a bottle of water and pills in his other. “Here you go.”

“What time is it? You haven’t gone into the office yet, have you?” Because now it was dawning on me why he’d be in a suit.

“It’s after ten, and yes, I already had my meeting at eight this morning with Phillip. I left you a note in case you woke up, but luckily, you didn’t.”

Oh, no. I’d screwed up, and I was too late. I actually felt my lower lip wobble. Like a two-year-old. Knowing tears were next, I turned around and started the shower. I didn’t want him to see my tears or dismay.

“Hey, hey.” He spun me around, and then put his hand under my chin, lifting it up so we were eye to eye.

“Story of my life to be late.”

“Walk me through what it is you think you’re too late for.” He reached beyond me to stop the spray of water.

“Well, let’s say for example, someone traveled across the country with a declaration to make which might impact your job choice and meeting this morning, but ended up passed out and waking up too late to make it?”

“You asking for a friend?” There was humor in his eyes which made me smile.

“Yes, I shall call her ‘Humili-eyton’ with an e-y.”

His lips twitched, fighting a grin. “Must’ve been some declaration if your friend got onto a plane.”

“It was. She even practiced. Now it’s ruined because you’ve already met with Phillip. Please tell me you didn’t quit your job or get fired.”

“I didn’t quit or get fired.”

“Wait. Are you only telling me that, or is it true?”

“It’s true. I did, however, inform him that when I take holiday, I expect him to honor it. It was high time I established some boundaries. To be fair to him, though, this was the first occasion I’d ever asked for them.”

“What did he say?”

“He promised next time he would, but he needed me in London on Thursday.”

I fought my disappointment especially since I’d prepared for this. “I see.”

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