Page 44 of Love & Other Disasters

“Guilty.”

She sighed. “You’re aware of your ego.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Sure you do. I can’t explain why you drive me insane, and I can’t help the snarky comments. Which is new. For most of my life I’ve been a wallflower in my existence, and it’s gotten me nowhere. I couldn’t even talk to a man in a bar as myself. I had to channel Elle. I’ve had the same job for five years, and look at what my hard work and devotion got me…”

“There are many people in that job boat,” he said. “Did you channel Elle when you yelled at me at the office after I laid off people.”

Violet shook her head. “Nope, that was me.”

“All right. How about when we were talking Neil Simon plays?”

J.P. hoped something about that night was real ever since he’d discovered Katia was Violet. And now he needed to know what was Violet and what was her channeling Elle. But Violet stayed quiet for a long time and didn’t look at him. Was anything real?

“As hard as I tried to not break the character I’d created, the real me kept creeping out. I’m not that good an actress, as Elle will attest. And my love for Neil Simon plays is genuine, and I’ve never been cool or sophisticated.” She shrugged.

His heart jumped for joy. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” She looked at him like he was insane. “I connected with the real you and not some former supermodel—”

Violet burst out laughing. “I’m at least six inches too short. Did I say supermodel? Who would ever buy that? I can’t believe I had the balls to do that.” She howled with laughter that bordered on maniacal and wiped tears from her eyes. She didn’t drink that much to drink. Maybe this was the stress from everything?

The giggles subsided, Violet hadn’t been able to stop them once they’d started. The entire situation was unreal. Maybe this was all an awful dream? Perhaps she was in a coma? She’d stepped off a curb and an MTA bus ran her over. And everything that happened was part of a comatose nightmare.

Violet opened her eyes and took in her surroundings—white ceiling, white wall, a heavy wooden television stand with a flat screen in the middle. Not a hospital at all, but still in J.P.’s condo. Reality sucked.

His place had generic furniture, and a flower drawing on the wall. Not at all something she’d imagined he’d own. The large brown sofa they sat on, a dark soft leather with rivets dotting the arms, mismatched against every other piece. A hand stroked down her arm, the tingling bringing out goosebumps in its wake.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Just hoping this was some dream I’d wake up from. Everything’s so screwed. I’d never imagined my life would turn out like this.”

“What did you imagine?” he whispered, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

“That I’d done more in my career in five years than this. I would have gotten a promotion, maybe married my college sweetheart, or at the very least be in a long term relationship, you know someone stable. We'd have a house with a large yard, get a dog to play fetch with, maybe have a baby. I'd work from home for a couple of years, and then have a second one. I don't know, so many idyllic fantasies brought on by what’s socially acceptable. But not hiding from my new boss after figuring out he’s the guy I’d given a fake name to, slept with, and snuck out on. This is so not what I had in mind.”

J.P.’s arms wrapped around Violet and pulled her close, and she curled up against his solid, muscular chest. He wasn’t the stereotypical frat guy of her initial opinion. He was something far more dangerous, someone she could imagine living her ideal life with. But she couldn’t give her heart to him.

He was about to blow up the company she worked for, and he wasn’t the type to be around when all the dust settled. He saved companies for a living and once this one proved unsalvageable, he’d be off to the next. For the moment, she enjoyed the comfort of his arms.

Violet woke sometime later, groggy and burning hot. She’d fallen asleep draped around J.P. like an octopus and found herself pressed between him and the back of the couch. It had to be a million degrees wedged between a man and his leather sofa. From the rhythm of his breath, he was still asleep. She climbed over him and off the sofa careful to not disturb him. Needing air and water, she trudged to the kitchen, pulling her sweaty shirt out away from her body. The refrigerator had an ice and water dispenser on the front, and Violet found a glass.

She finished the glass and turned to find J.P. standing in the doorway, shirtless, and jeans slung low. Her mouth went dry again at the sight. “Want some water?” she asked, tearing her gaze from him and refilling the cup. J.P. stepped close and took the glass and downed the water in two gulps.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, putting the cup in the sink.

“What?”

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said, shutting off the light over the table and plunging them into darkness. She followed him into a bedroom. A light switch flipped and illuminated a bathroom and part of the bedroom. A queen size bed, a dresser, and some boxes stacked in the corner were the only items in the room.

J.P. disappeared in the bathroom and returned with a toothbrush hanging out his mouth and dug in a drawer, removing a shirt and tossing it to her. “In case you want to get comfortable. There’s an extra toothbrush in here,” he mumbled, returning to the bathroom.

Violet held the shirt and weighed her options of going home or getting into bed with J.P. Going home meant getting into her car and driving across town at some odd hour before getting to go to bed. Here she could climb into bed now and sleep.

He passed her, pulled off his jeans, and climbed into bed wearing his boxer briefs.

There was a hot half-naked man in this bed. She’d have to wake up early and go home to get ready for work. Violet yawned, and that settled it. Sleep now. When Violet came out of the bathroom after changing, J.P. was sound asleep, she turned off the bathroom light plunging the unfamiliar room into blackness. Violet sank onto the soft mattress and into a dreamless sleep.

A blaring siren seeped into her consciousness, a smack silenced the beeping, and a weight landed on her hip. A man’s arm. She was in J.P.’s bed, and he curled up, spooning her. The room had a chill but his body heat warmed her.

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