Page 17 of The Loves We Lost
It helps to settle both of us—me as I sign and Eloise as she stands in front of her unicorn.
Me. A unicorn.
Jesus. I clean the toilet just the same as everyone else.
As I write about loving romance, she tells me how she loves a book calledMake Me, Sirby Cherise Sinclair.
I look up at that. “Master Marcus,” I exclaim. “I love him too. That Southern drawl and all his funishments.”
“His what?” my agent asks.
“It’s a BDSM series, but Master Marcus is really good at giving out fun punishments. So they are abbreviated to funishments.”
Eloise laughs. “Like the scene in the pool with the inflatable swan.”
“Or the time he makes her crawl down the length of the bar wearing puppy ears, cuffs, and a large butt plug with a tail attached, so all the different masters can pet her and touch her to turn her on.”
There is sharp slap next to me, and I see Miles has dropped the book on the floor. He looks a little flustered as he picks it up, and I bite back a grin. Maybe the things I know about sex hassurpassed what he was able to teach me, even though I haven’t had sex with any other man. Ever. Just Miles. When we split up, I was too heartbroken to date. I thought the heartbreak was the cause of sickness and stress. Turns out it was morning sickness and hormones.
Suddenly, Avery is five now, and there hasn’t been anyone else.
I finish signing Eloise’s book and hand it to her. Louise takes a picture of the two of us next to my banner, and we say our goodbyes.
But my mind is on the way Miles’s eyes looked when he dropped his book. I surprised him, and for the first moment since he reappeared, I feel like I have the upper hand.
Another man joins Miles. I’ve noticed their names on their cuts. Miles is calledBates, and I wonder how he got that name. I always thought he’d end up being calledFortune, but I know that their road names are not self-selected and generally given by one of the other club members based on their exploits as prospects.
The other man is calledHalo.
The patches on the back of their cuts sayNew Jersey. He must have moved once we broke up. I know he visited the Asbury Park clubhouse one time because we had a massive fight about him going on my birthday weekend. I’d wondered why I never saw him around after we split, but I guess he moved.
The two of them are attracting a lot of attention.
“Are those two models with you?” The woman stepping up to the table hands me her book. Her name is Thandie.
Inspired, I nod. “Halo. Bates,” I say, using their road names. “Some of my readers would love their picture taken with you.”
Halo grins, and even though I am quite deliberately celibate and single right now, I’m honest enough to admit it’s a panty melter. “Sure, sweet cheeks. We can do that, right,Bates?”
Miles looks up to the ceiling, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head.
“Don’t mind Miles,” I say loudly. “He’s the grumpy and Halo is the sunshine.”
A few of the women in my line laugh.
“I’m the what?” Miles asks.
Three women at the front of the queue attempt to tell him in unison that it’s a trope. I can’t help but love my readers.
I face Miles. “Grumpy and sunshine. It’s a theme and source of conflict in a book. One half of the couple is a miserable asshole dick who takes great pleasure in stomping about in a mood half the time.” I turn to Halo and grin. “And the other is sunshine. Happy. Positive. Am I right, Halo?”
Halo chuckles. “Definitely right, Vi.”
“Fuck you both,” Miles mutters.
He moves to the left side of the banner, closer to me. He looms over the end of the table, casting a shadow I can’t seem to escape. The scent of him, fresh air and something completely absent of flowers, is utterly captivating.
Books are presented to me to sign. So are posters and scrapbooks and tote bags and bookmarks. I sign everything. I greet people I know from online and other signings like old friends. And I squeal when I meet people from my reader group like Tracy and Katie, who met over my books, and Nikki, Dawn, and Mags, who always take the time to review and comment on my posts.
