Page 74 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“Ooh. Could we get one of the fancy couples’ massages?”
The idea tickled me silly, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. “Is that something you’d like to do?”
“Uh, yeah. Duh. Aromatherapy, candles, maybe there’s even pan flute music.” He mimicked the sort of wailing, new age music that belonged in spas. The sound made me shiver.
“You’re so weird. Phone down and see if the spa can accommodate us. I’m sure it’s exactly the kind of thing Laurie had in mind when he booked us the suite.”
“Done and done. You won’t regret it. You’re such a Disney prince. This is going in my super-secret diary.” He cupped my face to kiss me then scampered away to use the phone in the living room.
I let my head fall back on the pillow.
I loved how easy it was to make Epic happy. Knock a ball around a mini-golf course, ride a bike together, eat lunch, hold hands. I’d spoiled the hell out of him with the hotel, the quality of the food, the jewelry, and a possible trip to the spa, but I was sure that if I’d had nothing but a carton of McDonald’s French fries to offer along with a walk on the beach, he’d have been just as happy with that.
While he talked to the spa, I began shaving. I was about halfway through when I heard thethwumpof a body hitting the bed.
I poked my head into the bedroom. Epic sprawled flat and dejected across the mattress.
“What’s up?”
“Bad news. There’s no availability at the spa today at all.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Give me a minute to finish shaving and we can make another plan.”
I turned back to the mirror. After a couple minutes, Epic slid up behind me.
“Turns out, the spa has a limited staff on Mondays, and they’re all booked.”
“We could try somewhere else if it means that much to you.”
“No. It’s okay. It just sounded like fun. What if we leave early and get brunch in San Luis Obispo?”
“That’s fine with me.”
“I hate giving up this awesome room.”
“It is nice, isn’t it?”
“Imagine cleaning all this grout though.” He sat on the lip of the tub. “Where would you even start?”
“No clue. At home, I use a cleaning service,” I said. “I spend so little time at my apartment, if I didn’t, the dust bunnies would take over.”
“You need to take better care of yourself.”
I swiped my face with a towel. “I will consider your advice.”
“And you need to eat better.”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“And drink less. Quit smoking.”
“Holy cow. My fake boyfriend is a closet life coach. Speaking of which, let me get a last smoke in on that beach.”
“Okay.” He snorted. “Because having a smoke where the air is fresh and delightful isn’t cognitively dissonant or anything.”
“Are we having a big word day?”
“Just saying.”
