Page 32 of Famous Last Words
“Um, no.” I shake my head. “None for me.”
I switch my phone to sleep mode and place it face down on the nightstand, standing and wiping my suddenly clammy hands on the back of my sweats.
Fran shrugs, grabbing one of the glasses. “All the more for me.”
I stop by the room service cart, looking down at all the food I ordered. “You gonna eat something now that you’re stuck here, or what?”
Fran finishes filling her glass to the very brim, eyes scanning the food as she sips her wine.
“I can order something else if you want,” I say, pointing to the card by the hotel phone. “Room service is open all night.”
She takes a tentative step closer to the cart, eyeing the pizza.
“The pizza’s pretty good,” I add. “Truffle.”
“Trufflepizza?” She arches a brow, glancing at me. “This placeisfancy.”
She takes a slice of the pizza and a napkin and carries it and her wine back to the sofa.
I remain standing on the spot, arms folded over my chest like an awkward weirdo wondering yet again what the hell I’m doing. Now that I know she’s here all night, I’m at a loss. I clearly didn’t think this through. I have to be up early for PT. Then we’re flying out for a week-long road trip.
“So, what are we supposed to do now?”
I snap myself out of my thoughts, finding Fran looking at me as she takes a bite of her pizza. She closes her eyes a moment as if it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted, and my heart does an unfamiliar jump in my chest. What the ever-loving fuck was that? I rub at my sternum.
“Because I am not sitting here all night watching fucking hockey highlights,” she adds.
Ah, there’s that bossy asshole I know and hate.With a relieved sigh, I walk around the sofa and flop down next to her, grabbing the remote. I start surfing the channels, but there’s not a lot on at this time of night.
“Don’t you have Netflix or something?”
I shake my head, flashing her a grin. “Just ESPN.”
She looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “What is wrong with you?”
I shrug. “I don’t get a lot of time to watch TV. And when I do, it’s usually game tape.”
Again, she stares at me like I’m crazy. Then she reaches across and grabs her purse, pulling out her phone, and I watch her unlock the device, my eyes bulging when I see her screen. Fifteen missed calls and eleven new text messages.
“Someone’s popular,” I tease.
“Yeah,” she scoffs, shaking her head dismissively. But then just as she ignores the notifications and scrolls to her Netflix app, the device starts ringing with a new call.
I catch a glimpse of the name flashing on the screen. “Who’s Tadd?”
Fran presses the phone against her chest, shielding it from me. She spears me with a pointed look. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Hasn’t deterred me though.”
She rolls her eyes, holding her phone out, staring at it asTaddcontinues calling. And I notice the way her shoulders fall with a heavy exhale.
“Tadd’s my ex.” She says it like she’s ashamed.
“The same ex who was going to steal your listing?”
“Yep.” With a resigned sigh, she continues. “He’s one of the top agents at work. A real dick. Not long after I started, Tadd took me on as his assistant, and I stupidly fell for his bullshit.”
I don’t know why, but her tone is off, and I don’t like it.
