Page 39 of Love Like Lightning

My words hang heavy between us, somewhere between Colorado and Massachusetts for several beats before Simone finds her words again.

“One of the kids…as in?”

“Henry Wright is apparently his name. Of the Wright Family Lodge family.”

“No…”

“Yeah, and if we had our initial meeting yesterday instead of this afternoon, I wouldn’t have done it again.”

“Slept with him, you mean?”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, it could be worse?”

“They’re not telling their kids about what’s going on with the business, at least for the first few weeks that I’m here.”

“That’s…okay, yeah, that’s not great. So what are you going to do?” The gravity of the situation seems to finally be sinking in for her.

“Nothing. I obviously won’t be sleeping with him again. It’s not my place to tell them what to do in terms of informing their kids, and it’s beyond inappropriate for me to continue any kind of intimate relationship with a client's child.”

“I mean, what if you run into each other? He’s a local, right?”

“I’ll just shut it down. Easy. I’m here to work anyway, and last night was obviously a bad decision.”

“Was it?” She sounds skeptical, and I can hear her smiling.

“Simone, it was clearly not the right move.”

“Okay, but on the other hand, what if the universe wanted you to have another great lay before finding out this information? The universe is on the side of orgasms, Gia.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right, though, ridiculous or not.”

Rolling my eyes, I try my best to ignore her logic, but part of me might agree with her. I’m about to voice that, when someone knocks at the door that leads out to Main Street. “Someone’s here. And I don’t think it’s Cam.” He’d knock on the door inside the bed and breakfast since he’s staying in the other garden suite. I’m whispering as if the person on the side of the door can hear me from all the way across the room.

“Who do you think it is?” Simone adopts my whispering too, and I almost laugh.

“I don’t know.” Taking small quiet steps, I make my way over to the door, thankful that I have my blinds drawn and there’s a peephole.

I stand on my tiptoes and close one eye to peer out, then immediately stumble back. Cupping my hand around the bottom of my phone, I tell Simone, “It’s Henry! He has takeout in his hands. And he’s smiling.”

I stand there, staring at the door like it might jump out and bite me, and wait for some kind of direction from the other side of the phone. When Henry knocks again, I almost jump out of my skin.

“What’s he wearing?”

“Be serious, Simone,” I whisper-yell at her.

“You have to answer the door, Gia.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Gianna Renee, pull it together and answer that door right now.”

Pulling out my middle name is a harsh move, but she’s right. I was going to have to have this conversation sooner or later. It’s just a lot sooner than I planned.

“Fine, but I hate you.”

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