Page 84 of If Not for My Baby
Until a frantic knock sounds at the door.
Twenty-Eight
Tom’s up on his kneesas two more knocks rattle.“Tom?”
“That’s Jen,” I hiss, drawing my entire body into a huddled naked ball.
Tom nods, his jaw set hard and his cock still sprung out between us. I don’t stare, though it’s an effort not to.
Another, fussier knock.“Halloran?”
Lionel, too.Shit.The whole brigade’s out there. I search through the bed for my dress but find no black among the sheets aside from Tom’s shirt, which I slip on hastily along with my damp underwear. With less urgency, Tom pulls on his jeans, until I realize the door is clicking open. In horror, I dive behind the bed and lay my mostly naked body on the hotel carpet.
The dusty hotel carpet. I hold my breath.
“Jesus, Jen—”
“Sorry. We called and texted. Wanted to make sure you weren’t having anotherepisode.”
She means Philly. My nose itches and I swallow rapidly.Goddamn allergies, not right now—
“I’m fine. Ye bunch need somethin’?”
Bunch?So more than just Jen and Lionel?
“Just checking on you,” a higher-pitched voice chimes in.
Indy. Lionel and Indy are here, breaking into Tom’s room because Jen thought Tom was on some kind of bender. I mentally smack myself with a flyswatter for what I’ve done to Tom’s reputation. The dust prickles my nose…
“Were you in bed already? It’s only eleven thirty.” Jen sounds suspicious.
My eyes are watering. I can’t hold it in—
“Sleeplessness catchin’ up with me at long last.”
My chirping sneeze rents the room.
Followed by torturous silence. And the sound of Tom swallowing a laugh.
Indy’s the first to speak. “Clem?”
One swift thump of my forehead against the carpet in despair and I’m standing sheepishly, winding Tom’s far-too-large collared shirt around my body to hide my nakedness. Tom doesn’t move from his perch at the end of the bed, but I can see the muscles in his back tense and I know he’s trying not to chuckle. I wonder if my hair appears as just-sexed as it feels.
Lionel looks like his favorite show’s just delivered a killer season finale. Indy offers me a meek smile, which I return, face hot as a tamale fresh out the steamer.
“Hey, guys,” I say.
Jen sighs. “Good Lord.”
“We ought to procure you some allergy medication,” Tom muses casually.
Lionel can hardly speak. “When did…How long has this—”
“Who cares?” Jen says over him. She looks nothing more than inconvenienced. “Tom, did you happen to check your texts between rounds?”
I wince at her phrasing. Tom doesn’t dignify her crudeness with a response, which I appreciate. I’d like to crawl onto the bed and place my hand on his shoulder in some show of support. It feels like we’re standing before a firing squad and I’m not sure why—we haven’t done anything wrong.
“Brad is here,” Jen says pointedly, as if that explains her entire mood. “In the lobby.”
