“O-kay, whatever you say, Pinocchio.”
I narrow my eyes even though she can’t see me. “I don’t like you.”
“Oh, you’re just full of lies today.” She giggles. “Have you slept with him yet?”
I hesitate.
“Ohmigod, you haven’t!” she exclaims. “That justprovesit!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you weren’t falling for him, you would’ve slept with him ages ago. Given him the Gemma Special and sent him packing.”
My eyebrows go up. “The Gemma Special?”
“One night. No cuddling. No personal details. Gone by sunrise. I hate to break it to you, honey, but it’s your modus operandi.”
I roll my eyes. “So not true.”
Even though it kind of was.
“Whatever you say,” she singsongs. “But I have one last question.”
Dread churns in my stomach. “What?”
“Are your pants on fire right now? Because you arelyyyyyying.”
“I’m hanging up, now.”
“Oh, fine.” She laughs. “But I’m only letting you go because I really have to pee and the last time I brought my cell into the bathroom, it ended up at the bottom of the toilet. And since I can’t really bend over… Let’s just say, Mark wasn’t a happy camper when he got home.”
I roll my eyes.
“Anywho, call me tonight!” she demands, clicking off mere seconds later.
Shaking my head in exasperation, I take another large swig of coffee and do my best to forget everything Chrissy just said. Because as outrageous and off-the-mark as she is, I can’t help but wonder if she’s also kind of…
Right.
***
Five hours later, I’m starting to understand why Chrissy is such a loon, these days. Half a day of house arrest, and I’m going out of my mind with boredom.
After hanging up with her, I called back my landlord, who didn’t answer, followed by Shelby, whodidanswer and, after a little arm-twisting, agreed to run a much-needed errand for me: shopping for some replacement clothes and dropping them off here ASAP. Which, in Shelby-time, means anywhere from ten to twelve hours from now.
In my short day of incarceration, I’ve showered, dressed in a pair of Chase’s boxer briefs and one of the too-big, ultra-white button-down dress shirts I found hanging in his massive walk-in closet, drank three cups of coffee, watched four reruns of FRIENDS on TV, and cursed everyone from Estelle for giving me time off, to Ralph for wrecking my apartment, to Chase for putting me under house arrest. I tried to paint, but my mind is too crowded with worries about too many different things to create anything worthwhile.
Eventually, I settle in on the couch and start readingThe Art of War, mostly as a joke, a first, but after a few pages, I have to admit Chase was right — it’s kind of engrossing.
Not that I’ll ever admit that tohim.
When the elevator chimes open around two, I jump to my feet so fast, the book in my lap tumbles to the ground. I’m barreling in Chase’s direction before he’s made it two steps inside the apartment.
“You’re back!” I yell, seconds before impact. I don’t slow when I reach him. At full speed, I hurdle my body against his — arms going around his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist — and hold tight. He grunts as my body-slam knocks the breath from his lungs, but his arms slide around my frame as he accepts my weight and pulls me close. Face tucked into the crook of his neck, I breathe him in and feel the low chuckle vibrate through his body.
“Missed me, huh, sunshine?”
I squeeze tighter in confirmation, pulling back to look into his eyes.