Page 68 of One for the Road
They have this phrase in English: easy come, easy go. Losing something is easy if it wasn’t hard to choose it in the first place. I’ve had lots of guys walk away from me, and sometimes it hurt more than others, but in the end, it never really mattered because I could always go out and choose somebody else. It didn’t matter if I was clingy or crazy or needed them too much. All that mattered was havingsomeoneto hold onto, someone to keep me from being alone.
I’ve always been running from the fear of being alone like it’s a wolf at my back, biting my heels and clawing at me. I can never turn around and face it. I just run and run and run.
I’m so sick of running.
“You okay?” Zach asks after a few minutes of silence.
I nod and fake a yawn. “Just sleepy.”
“You didn’t sleep?”
“I did, just not a lot.” I wiggle my hips against him. “Too busy thinking about the D.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, making his voice all husky and rumbly.
“You sound like a lawnmower,” I tease, “and also we have to get up.”
Zach is on opener duty at the bar today, and I’m meeting Monroe at her apartment so we can video call with Roxanne before we head to Taverne Toulouse. Roxy and Cole took off to Paris not long after their wedding, and we haven’t heard much from her; she’s probably too busy getting some of the D for herself.
Valérie’s finishing her breakfast at the coffee table when we head into the living room, and we all chat while Zach and I eat toast. She came home just as Zach and I were getting our naked asses off the couch and into my bedroom last night. I think she might have actually got a glimpse of Zach’s butt, but he was so embarrassed about it that I lied and said she didn’t see anything.
I sit there listening to the two of them share stories about customers and consider how crazy it is that in just a few weeks, Zach’s gone from being my off-limits work husband to the guy I share breakfast with while rubbing the I-got-screwed-senseless soreness out of my thighs.
This is all happening so much faster than I thought it would. Things work between us so well that it’s hard to put up any barriers, like stepping into a river and getting swept up by the current so fast you’re flying downstream towards the rocks before you know it.
The three of us all leave the apartment together and go our separate ways. I do my best to act normal around Monroe, but she’s Monroe, so of course she asks me if something’s wrong five seconds after I arrive at her apartment. I dodge her questions while she makes me some tea and gets her laptop set up for the call.
Roxanne’s face appears on the screen, and we both start waving at her.
“Wow, it’s dark out there already,” Monroe comments. We can see the edge of the window in Roxanne’s hotel room. “And damn, that room looks nice.”
“This whole hotel is so beautiful,” Roxanne replies. Her voice is a little out of synch with her mouth, which makes her look kind of funny, but her face is stretched into this lovesick, I-am-on-my-honeymoon smile that makes me smile too. “I always felt kind of embarrassed about wanting to go to Paris so much, and to be honest, at first it was a bit of a letdown, but sometimes...sometimes these moments happen, and you’re just like, wow, this is it. I am inParis.”
“Awww!” Monroe and I say together before I ask Roxy where Mr. Grim Rockstar is.
“He’s showering before we go out to dinner. We walked all day today.”
I wag my eyebrows at her. “And how is the honeymoon sex?”
She fans herself. “Let’s just say we’ve made good use of this hotel room.”
I start belting out the words to ‘Sex and Candy’ by Marcy Playground so loud Monroe covers her ears. Roxanne laughs, the sound a little tinny in the microphone.
“I thought that was the song you sing whenyou’vejust got laid,” she jokes.
Itisusually the song I sing when I want to tell everyone I got some.
“DeeDee, are you blushing?” Roxanne leans in closer to the camera. “Monroe, is she blushing?”
“Hmm, lemme see.” Monroe hooks her finger under my chin and turns my head to face her. “I see a definite pink tinge.”
“I’m just thinking about steamy Parisian sex,” I joke, pulling away and doing my best to stop the blushing. “I have always wanted to fuck someone under the Eiffel tower.”
Roxanne snorts. “I think you would get arrested. Although now that you mention it, maybe Cole will be down to give it a try.”
“Please do not get sent to French prison,” Monroe scolds in her most motherly voice. “Every cent I own has been invested in the bar, and I won’t be able to bail you out.”
“Fine, fine,” Roxanne agrees. “So, who’s DeeDee screwing?”
