Page 112 of Things I Overshared
“I’m out on our balcony. He’s trying to sleep off a headache, but he might not be asleep yet.”
“Why don’t you just go to your room?”
“We don’t have separate rooms anymore. When we got to Paris, he changed our reservation to the penthouse at the Four Seasons, just one bed. And get this: it has the most spectacular balcony in the city, but he’s afraid of heights. He won’t even come out here. So he booked it just for me.”
She is silent. I get it—it’s a lot. It’s a freaking fairy-tale whirlwind whiplash extravaganza. And I feel like that’s putting it mildly.
“Nic?”
“Okay, babe, start at the beginning.” I fill her in on everything, from the first plane ride all the way to my bumbling idiocy at the café this afternoon. “Oh, honey. You just have no game.”
“I know! I just laid it all out. I mean, I hope he wasn’t in it for the chase because there is no chase. I make myself unchase-able.”
“Well, I mean, you can still turn things around, I think, maybe.”
I watch her face on my phone screen as she thinks. “Okay, how?”
“If he wants to chase, then, you run.”
“Run? What do you mean?”
“Well, stop letting your pretty mouth get away from you, for one thing. Just be distant. Slow your roll. Maybe he’ll wonder if you regret saying it, if you didn’t mean it.”
“But I did mean it.”
“He doesn’t need to know that!” Nicole snaps at me. “Not unlesshe’swilling to give a little in return. Everything is lopsided. You gotta turn the tables back on him!”
“I don’t know. He’s been nothing but sweet and romantic . . .”
“Sam.” She glares at me through her phone camera. “Did he say he loved you back?”
I sigh. “No.”
“So, you run. K?”
“K. Thanks, Bestie. How are you? How’s New York?”
“Still fabulous as ever, on both counts. I gotta go, though. Headed to dinner, and I’m already late.”
“All right, yeah, wow, it’s past midnight here. Okay, love you.”
“Fill me in on how the running goes, okay?”
“Okay.” I end our call, feeling better.
I tiptoe through my nighttime routine in the bathroom, slip on Emerson’s shirt, and slide into bed. The second I hit the sheets, he moves in behind me and quickly tucks me into little-spoon position. He makes a murmuring sound that tells me he’s mostly asleep. I tense for a second, thinking about what Nicole said. It’s going to be hard doing all this metaphorical running when, if I’m being honest, his arms feel like the safest place to be.
Chapter 34
“Morning, Angel,” he whispers. I groan something in reply. He starts on his kisses, this time along the chain of the necklace I couldn’t bear to take off, even for bed. My groans turn into moans, as they often do during our little morning routine. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“You do?” I tense up in surprise. He never asks me for anything.
“Mm. How would you feel about braving another Clark family dinner?”
“Fine, I’d feel fine about it.”
“You sure?”
