Page 76 of Is This for Real?
Rory turns to me. “Should we put that long pillow between us? I don’t know. I turn in my sleep, and I can’t promise I won’t touch you.”
I should say we don’t need a buffer, it’s okay if you touch me, but I can’t. I just can’t. I must finish my book first.“If it makes you feel more comfortable.”
“It does.” He leaps out of bed, grabs the long pillow from the armchair, and puts it between us. Good sign or bad? He wants a buffer? Or he needs a buffer so he behaves? I’ll ask Zelda in the morning.
I rest my head on the buffer pillow and stare over at him. “This reminds me of Olivia’s pregnancy pillow.”
He chuckles. “Keep up the sexy talk.”
I want to smack my forehead, but okay, he asked for it. “Olivia bought a pregnancy pillow, and John could barely fit in the bed. And Olivia became very attached to the pillow. And didn’t want to throw it out even after Amber was born.”
He turns on his side to face me. “You tell the best bedtime stories. So, what happened?”
“John challenged the pillow to a duel. Olivia was distraught. She didn’t want either to lose. She kept saying, ‘It doesn’t have to be a choice between the two of you. There’s room in my heart for both of you.’” I sit up.
Rory is grinning. I look at him sternly. “This is no laughing matter.” I point my nose in the air. “At the crack of dawn, the two suitors for Olivia’s bed met in the living room. They chose their weapons, and then they had to shake hands. But Poor Pillow had no hands. Olivia demanded that John hug the pillow. Hug the pillow.”
“What?”
“You have to hug the pillow.”
He hugs the pillow, and his hand grazes my leg, leaving fiery waves in its wake.
I’m never going to be able to fall asleep while sharing a bed.
“John hugged the pillow. And then he didn’t want to stop hugging the pillow. He understood why Olivia loved the pillow so much. They got back into bed, but then John wanted to hug the pillow, too. And then Olivia decided that the pillow was in the way and put the pillow in the closet. But she was still going to hug it when John was traveling. The end.”
He turns the lights off, and I snuggle under the covers.
“Good night, Curls.” His voice is deep in the dark.
“Good night, Rory.” I turn so my back is facing him.
I count sheep.
Chapter twenty-seven
Wewakeupandhave an enormous breakfast in bed, which arrives on wooden trays with folding legs. Our breakfast experience has clearly been lacking prior to this. I’m adding breakfast in bed to my top-ten list of best Sunday plans.
We had planned to spend a few hours in the morning wandering around the Tate because we both agreed that we can’t go to London and not visit the Tate, but after the first exhibition, Rory keeps checking his phone. He looks stressed. This campaign is a big deal. I’m also feeling guilty that I am not revising. Esther emailed me a round of edits and suggestions last night.
“You should go into the office now. You’ll feel better if you’re there. And I need to edit anyway.”
Rory kisses me goodbye on the cheek. “Probably won’t be able to hang out again until Thursday night. I hope we run on schedule.”
“I’m in London. I’m happy. Go get ’em.” I wave goodbye.
At my break for lunch, I text Zelda:Red negligee 1. Rory 0.
Zelda:Spill the DETAILS.
Me:He suggested we put up a roller pillow between us so that there was no inadvertent touching. Good or bad sign?
Zelda:Bad sign.
I slump.
Zelda:Take that back. Good sign. Wouldn’t need pillow if not attracted. But. You. Guys. You may be a perfect match.
