Page 37 of The Paradise Problem

A glance around the room shows that housekeeping has been here. The bed is turned down, the gauzy curtains drawn. More importantly, the cookie jar has been refilled.

West sits on the bench and pulls a shoe off. I set my clutch down on a shelf in the open closet. “I’m thinking Alex will take a keen interest in exactly how happy we seem.” I narrow my eyes, staring into the distance. “West… this assignment is no longer just ‘show up and wear a wedding ring.’ ”

West is still holding the shoe he took off, and he stares down at it in his hand. “I think you’re right. I was hoping it would be enough to show up, but it’s going to take more than that.”

“This is actually kind of fun!” I walk over to him, taking the shoe and then his other one, and setting them near the wall. “I realize incomprehensible sums of money are at stake here, but for me, it’s like a murder mystery party.”

Finally, he blinks out of his trance, looking up at me in silent question.

“You know,” I say, waving my hand forward. “Being suspicious of everyone. Wearing costumes. Getting progressively drunker as the party goes on.” I walk to the bathroom area. “Don’t peek.” I sip my drink. “Or do peek. What do I care?” I peel off the itchy cocktail dress and reach for one of the fluffy bathrobes, muttering, “These robes are the shit.”

“They are really soft,” he agrees.

Bending to wash my face, I say, “You going to be okay sharing a bed?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

I scrub the soap into a lather. “Sure. I basically fall asleep and don’t move an inch all night, so it doesn’t matter to me where you are.”

Patting my face dry, I walk behind the half wall to where our clothes have so helpfully been put away, pull out a pair of very silky, very skimpy pajamas Vivi packed for me, and hold them up. “Fuck me.”

“What?” he asks from the other side.

“I let Vivi shop for this trip and she got me slutty pj’s.”

“You’ll be under the covers,” he says.

“With you,” I say with false misery, and he laughs that low, seductive sound.

“You just assured me you’ll stay on your side of the bed.”

“True. Will you?”

His laugh is confident. “Yes.”

I slip out of the robe and pull on the tiny shorts and tiny tank, and then brush my teeth. It’s only ten, but I’m wiped.

I don’t meet his eyes as I walk to the bed and climb in, and I’m not sure whether I love or hate that he doesn’t seem to look at me at all as he gets up to go get ready for bed. A handful of minutes later, West shuts off the lights, climbing in beside me.

My brain screams: WHAT IS HE WEARING?

Clearing my throat, I say, “No hands or feet or boners on my side, sir.”

Another laugh. I really like that sound. “If my boner could reach that side, I think you’d be intrigued.”

I ponder this. “I would be. You’re right.”

The thing is… half of his family sucks, but this, right here, isn’t all bad. I like hanging out with West Weston.

The ocean stretches outside, the waves falling back before rushing forward again. The calming reflection of water dances along the ceiling. I listen to him breathe along with the waves. A person could get used to this, I think, my eyes growing heavy.

“Good night, Anna.”

“Night, West.”

He sighs. “Liam.”

I roll over, laughing. “Night, Liam.”

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