Page 102 of From Best Friend to Bride
I dragged my pillow into the other room and tossed it on the perfectly made, cold bed, then stared at it.
Yeah.
I needed to take a step back for my own sanity.
21
DELILAH
Iflattened myself against the adjoining door between our rooms and pressed my ear against it. I just about heard the click of the en-suite door, followed by the gentle sound of the shower.
This was it.
Now was my chance.
I quickly unlocked the door and scurried into the master bedroom. There was no sign of Fred, and the only sign that he’d seen the note I’d left him was the fact it was now scrunched up in the middle of the floor.
Not my smartest move, but hey, it was better than saying nothing at all.
My heart thundered in my chest as I tiptoed across the room towards the bed. It was freshly made, and I quickly grabbed his pillow and gave it a good sniff.
Okay, good.
They’d made the bed but not changed the sheets.
This was good news.
The housekeepers had my thanks.
I yanked off his pillowcase and replaced it with mine, then gently but quickly set his pillow back in the right spot before making a break for it. I locked the adjoining door between ourrooms and leant back against it, holding onto his pillowcase for dear life.
Phew.
This had to be up there as the weirdest thing I’d ever done.
And I’d done some weird shit, let me tell you.
But still… For all my desire to put distance between us, the bed was weird. It didn’t smell like Fred or me, and it wasn’t that nice fresh laundry smell, either.
Not that the sheets weren’t clean. They were. They were just…cold. In a way I could barely begin to describe. They just felt wrong. They were too crisp, too clean, too foreign to me.
Which was why I’d just pulled the most stalker-like move of my life and absconded with my best friend’s pillowcase.
On the bright side, he would probably just shake his head, pat his pillow, and go about his business.
He really did tolerate an awful lot of weird shit from me.
Using my pillowcase wasn’t half as strange as marrying me on a whim, though, so hey. If he could marry me, he could suck up the fact I’d stolen his pillowcase.
And, really, this was all his fault. He was the one who, when I was seven, had given me his most favourite stuffed bear to calm me down when I’d sprained my elbow. After that, he had a habit of giving me things that smelt like him when I was upset, and, well, I was upset.
Yes.
I was upset right now.
I was upset that he’d turned me on this morning, and I needed comforting, so here I was. Comforting myself.
All right, it would have been a hell of a lot less weird if I’d stolen his t-shirt or jumper or something, but I was against the clock here.
