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"We’re going to," I said quickly, smoothing it over. "After we figure out the bar stuff. I’m thinking Paris, maybe." I looked up at West, hoping he’d play along.
"Anywhere you want," he said, arm curling protectively around me as the elevator doors opened. We all stepped in and rode quietly to the ninth floor.
When we exited into the hallway, Grams and Gramps took the first door. Easton and Jesse followed, taking the second door and announcing they were taking a nap before the show later. Finally, West and I arrived at our room at the end of the hall and I sighed dramatically.
"Don’t worry. These rooms always have two beds, so no unnecessary touching will be going on," I teased.
"Yeah," he said, though his voice was a little too quiet. He was still thrown by the idea of us sharing a room, even after all this.
"Easton knows we’re married. He wasn’t going to book two rooms."
"You’re right," he said as he slid the card into the lock on the door. "Good catch, by the way. I just forgot for a second."
With a quiet beep, the door unlocked, and I stepped through, only to stop short like I’d hit an invisible wall.
It was gorgeous. Luxurious. The room had intricate moldings, velvet drapes, and a private balcony overlooking the ocean. The bathroom was the size of my entire bedroom back home, complete with a clawfoot tub, a rainfall shower, and those hotel robes.
But none of that mattered. Because right in the center of the room, in all its marshmallow-soft glory, was a single king-sized bed and West and I stared at it.
"Well,” I cleared my throat. “Guess we’ll be getting really good at this fake marriage thing."
Chapter Twenty-Six
WEST
It never even occurred tome that I’d be sharing a room with Blue on this overnight trip. You’d think a man with multiple businesses, hundreds of employees, and a penthouse view of the Atlanta skyline would’ve put that together.
But no. Apparently I left my intelligence back in Harmony Haven. Of course Easton wouldn’t book two rooms for a married couple. Why would he? I wasn’t mad. I was just quietly panicking, like a gentleman.
Somehow I’d gone from the space of my penthouse, to the thin walls of the lake house, down to no walls and a thin sheet. I wasn’t childish enough to think two grown adults couldn’t share a bed. Normal, emotionally adjusted adults probably did it all the time. But I wasn’t normal.
Nighttime was when the darkness hit the loudest. When the mask came off. When the ghosts showed up and sat on my chest until I couldn’t breathe.
I didn’t sleep easily. And when I did, I didn’t do it well.
“Are you freaking out right now?” Blue’s voice snapped me out of my spiral.
I schooled my expression and pasted on what I hoped passed for a casual smile. “Not at all.”
Lie. Giant, neon-lit lie. “We’re adults. I doubt you have cooties.”
Did I just say the word cooties out loud?
She raised an eyebrow wanting to laugh at me, but somehow stopped herself.
“I probably won’t even sleep, though,” I shrugged like it was no big deal. “We will get back and I’ll need to work.”
“Work? After a concert, and a full day of pretending to be married? You’re really going to have the energy to work?” she asked, unconvinced.
“It’s what I do.” I shrugged, as if that explained everything.
Blue set her bag down by the bathroom door and wiped a hand across her brow. “Well, while you do whatever it is you do, I’m going to do what I do.” She held up the plush white robe like she’d just won a prize. “And that’s soaking in that giant bathtub until I feel like a new woman.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Go enjoy yourself.”
She gave me a tiny wave and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her with an obnoxiously final sound.
Idiotically, I turned in a slow circle. There was nowhere to pace. The room was nice, but not exactly large. There was a dinette with two chairs that were probably more expensive than they were comfortable. But there was no couch, no big soft chair to sink into and pretend I wasn’t unraveling.
