So he’s judging me, then.
“I see. Well…I don’t like it either. Not anymore.”
He just nods somberly.
There’s a silence that hangs in the air.
I force a smile to my face. “Does it bother you enough to take back your invitation to the gala?”
His face wrinkles in confusion. “No, why would it?”
“Wouldn’t want to let Emily down.”
He looks off in thought, a deep crease in his brow. “Emily.”
Yeah, Emily! I scream in my head.
“Well,” I say briskly, moving away from the obviously troublesome topic. “I suppose we should think about getting started with the day.”
Now that the morning is ruined.
His brow lowers in consternation. “What’s going on, Honey?”
“Nothing,” I say in a chipper tone.
He considers me for a long moment. I forgot how penetrating that gaze of his can be, even without the aid of his glasses.
I relax with a sigh. “Nothing, Giuseppe, I’m fine. Really.”
“Good,” he says with a concerned expression. “Do you want to get breakfast? Or I suppose it would be brunch at this point.”
That lifts my spirits again.
“I think it might be hard to get a table today,” I hint with a smile.
His mouth turns down in thought. “Right, Sunday.”
“Yeah, Sunday,” I tease.
“You’d probably know better than me how crazy it gets at brunch. I could pick up some bagels or something instead?”
“Bagels,” I repeat, wondering if he’s joking.
“Too many carbs?”
“Among other things,” I say, giving him an incredulous look.
“I’m afraid I only have leftover Chinese that’s probably a day too old and a few bottles of beer back at my place.”
I stare at him, realizing that he either doesn’t remember what day it is, or is deliberately avoiding addressing it.
“Or you could go into the office to catch up on work?” I say in a dry tone.
His brow wrinkles in bewilderment. “Is that what you want?”
I exhale a laugh.
If he hasn’t picked up on what day it is, I’m certainly not going to shove his nose into it.
After all, it was just one night of sex.
Despite everything that was said in the heat of it.
We aren’t dating. We’re not “official.”
Hell, I just got dumped yesterday, even if it was via the news.
And right now I have no idea what’s going on inside his head with regard to Emily.
“You know what? That’s fine. Go into work,” I say without a hint of sarcasm or bitterness.
In some way, it’s actually funny.
Perhaps I—we?—can look back on this and laugh one day.
“Are you sure? I can easily go out and get something and come back to—”
“No, no. Go ahead. After all, I have some packing to do.”
That obviously reminds him of Francis and that cloud comes over his face again. It clears as he focuses on me again.
“I’ll see you tonight then?”
“Yeah,” I say with a half-smile, still staring at him in wonder. “Tonight.”
He gives me one last uncertain look. “You’re sure everything is fine? I can stay.”
“No, I have things to do. You go and get some work in.”
He doesn’t look convinced, and I’m this close to telling him, but let it go.
“Okay,” he finally says.
He pulls me in for a kiss. He lingers in it, but I’m the one to pull away.
“Tonight,” he says, giving me one last piercing look.
I return a convincing smile and watch him slide off the bed.
When he’s back in his pants and underwear he wore last night, I flash one last smile to match his as he leaves.
I stare after him with the taste of moonshine and resentment still on my lips.
How could he forget that today is Valentine’s Day?
Chapter Twenty
Honey
“He didn’t even acknowledge it was Valentine’s Day!”
Rose gives me a sympathetically amused look. She’s the only one of The Girls who isn’t otherwise occupied today. I know Annabelle is with her Peter. Esmerelda could be up to a number of things, with a number of men.
“Men can be dense about this holiday, Honey. It sounds like he hasn’t been in a relationship for a while so it makes sense he might forget it.”
“I suppose,” I say, frowning into my mimosa.
As it turns out, it wasn’t so impossible to get a table for brunch, despite the holiday.
That doesn’t mean couples aren’t taking advantage. I stare around at the twosomes surrounding Rose and me in the restaurant and feel my heart sink again.
“I know, it sucks,” Rose, says sympathetically. “Especially after this news about Francis. What a son of a bitch!”
I put a hand up. “We are not talking about that man anymore today. Feel free to pass it on to Annabelle and Esmerelda tonight.”
“Duly noted,” Rose says, lifting her Bloody Mary. “Though, if you need a partner when you decide to kick his as, make sure to call me.”
I laugh even though it’s the last thing I want to do right now.
Francis still hasn’t given me so much as a phone call or text telling me the news. At this point, I’m wondering if he’s dead or being held captive somewhere.
After two years, I deserve more than this.
But my head is still wrapped around Giuseppe.
“He wasn’t thrilled when he found out about Francis and everything he has done for me.”
Rose raises her brow in acknowledgement. “Men can be weird about that too.”
“I mean, I hate the term sugar baby, but let’s face it, that’s what I was. Of course, it didn’t seem so tawdry when I thought it was actually leading toward marriage.”
“Let’s face it, men are assholes,” Rose laughs.
I frown but a smile forces its way through.
“Francis, obviously. Giuseppe?” I shrug. “I don’t know. I’d rather think it’s just cluelessness. Despite last night,” my body shivers at the memory of it. “He’s still that same stoic, adorably clueless Clark Kent he was before.”
Rose considers me with a smile. “You’re smitten.”
“What?” I say, snapping to. “I’m…well, he’s cute—sexy really, but it was just one drunken night of—”
Rose laughs out loud. “I swear I can almost see a blush on your face.”
“Well, so what?” I say pursing my lips. “I’m allowed some release, especially after what he-who-shall-not-be-named did to me.”
“Is that what he is? A release?” Rose asks, tilting her head to the side.
“No,” I say with a soft smile. “It feels…good, you know? In a way that it wasn’t with Francis. I feel…real for once.”
I think about our confessions last night, about wearing facades.
“But just how real were you with him?”
My eyes flash and focus on her. “What do you mean?”
“Does he know what you do for a living?”
“Well,” I frown, biting my lower lip. “It didn’t really come up. Not exactly. But what’s the big deal?”
A wrinkle forms in her brow.
“What? He knows what I’m like. We’ve lived across the hall from each other for a year now. He’s seen me come and go so he knows my hours. I doubt anything I add will be too scandalous. After all, Francis didn’t mind, he even loved it.”
“Men like Francis can afford to not mind, Honey. For them, being with a woman like you is fun, a lark. At least until they’ve had their fun with you. As you so abruptly found out the hard way.”
I frown and sip my mimosa, thinking about that one. My mind races back to lunch at Le Coucou. Francis’ description of the type of woman investors were looking for him to be with.
‘A woman who is a future head of business herself.’
“You said Giuseppe was a corporate lawyer?” Rose prods, pulling me back to the present.
I just nod, already knowing where she’s going with this.
“Those types are especially conservative,” she says with a bitter smile.
“Yes but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’d have a problem with him dating someone like me.”
“But would he? When he finds out? I suspect he knows how the game is played at places like that. The work matters, sure, but image matters almost as much.”
I didn’t reveal that part of last night to Rose, the one where Giuseppe exposed his vulnerabilities. Frankly, it’s no one’s business.
Still, all his talk about his image and how worried he was that the people he worked with would find out he didn’t live up to the one he presented every day.
I seriously doubt Honey Dewberry fits into that performance of his, as talented as I am.
“I never told you and The Girls why Jaimie and I broke up,” Rose says, drawing my attention again.
“What happened?”
“Eventually what I did caught up with him. At first he didn’t mind, kind of got a kick out of it. Then…his friends and coworkers found out. Considering he works in a field where it seems like a job requirement to go to strip clubs, it was pretty damn hypocritical. But that’s the kicker isn’t it? What they’ll enjoy in private isn’t the same thing that they are willing to introduce to their boss at the Christmas party.”
I think about the gala Giuseppe invited me to.
Even I preemptively assured him that I would “paint him in the perfect light.” Certainly no Honey Dewberry with early-morning “wardrobe malfunctions.”
Because it really is all about maintaining his image, isn’t it?
Rose reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“I’m not trying to burst your bubble, Honey, really I’m not. I just think you should tell him sooner rather than later. Better to do it before you invest too much of your heart in him, only to find it broken later on. Not all men are cut out for women like us.”
* * *
My brunch with Rose leaves me troubled the rest of the day. Even the double-feature show I watched at an independent movie theater just to pass the time couldn’t shake my unease.
They were showing Amelie and Priceless (Audrey Tautou was the running theme). The first will always make my heart do a little song and dance, but I hadn’t ever seen the latter.
As it turns out, Priceless was about a woman who has to decide between a wealthy man who doesn’t respect her and falling for a poor boy who will give her all he has.
A little too poignant for my current state of affairs. It did nothing except paint my reality in a stark light that revealed all the fine lines, pimples, and warts.
It’s dark by the time I limp back home, being that I still can’t work, dammit. That fact does nothing to brighten my mood, or solve my dilemma.
I should tell Giuseppe what I do.
That’s if he’s home from the office yet.
On a weekend.
On friggen Valentine’s Day!
My outfit was perfect for brunch with Rose, but now I feel a bit silly in my pink turtleneck with red heart patches on the elbows and a matching pink beret with a large red heart emblazoned on top. The UGG boots—the only thing I could wear since my injury—topping off my white jeans don’t do much to tone it down. Even the purse I chose—one of Kate Spade’s more fanciful heart-themed designs that I bought used on eBay—seems ridiculous.
What’s the point of expressing so much love when there’s no one to appreciate it?
Honestly, I do believe this is one of the worst Valentine’s Days I’ve experienced in a long time.
And it started off so promising.
When the elevator doors open on my floor, I hobble toward my door. I cast one quick, morose frown to Jesse’s right across the hall, then sigh.
It’s only when I have the key in the door that I hear his open behind me.
I turn to find him standing there with a bouquet of twelve pink roses and an apologetic smile.
“You know, us Jersey Boys sometimes need a good knock upside the head when we’re being particularly dense. I wish you’d a reminded me it was Valentine’s Day this morning.”
I have no words.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t use my lips.
Chapter Twenty-One
Giuseppe
I know for a fact there was a holiday surcharge on these roses I bought last minute.
But the feel of Honey’s lips against mine, her arms nearly choking me as she circles them round my neck, her body pressed into mine?
It’s priceless.
It was only when I got to work and saw the silly teddy bear with a heart on someone’s desk that I realized how badly I fucked up this morning. I replayed the entire episode over in my head multiple times as I raced back to Norton Place, only to find Honey gone.
Thankfully I had enough brain cells to at least buy something to make it up to her. I didn’t know when she would be coming back and as the hours ticked by, I kicked myself more and more.
I had no idea how she’d respond to the roses.
Based on what she said about this Francis guy (what the fuck kind of a name is that anyway?), I’m sure she was used to much more.
Once again, she surprised me.
Honey pulls away and the smile she meets me with is the icing on the cake. And more than I damn well deserve.
“I take it I’m slightly forgiven for this morning?”
“I suppose so.”
“Enough for you to join me for takeout?”
“Even better.”
“In that case,” I say, lifting her up and backing into my apartment. Honey’s legs circle me and she laughs, that tinkling version that’s like candy to my ears.
Her brow wrinkles as we enter my apartment and she sniffs the air. “Is that…curry?”
“Yeah, and probably a bit of masala and tandoori mixed in. Do you like Indian? My options were limited tonight.”
She laughs. “For good reason. But lucky you, I love Indian. Just don’t comment on my breath when I kiss you.”
As if that would stop me.
I rest her down and lay the roses on the kitchen counter
“I bought a bottle of champagne as well. I don’t know how well it goes with Indian, but it’s either that or, beer and water.”
Honey smiles and tilts her head. “Giuseppe, you just be you tonight. In fact, what would you be doing if I wasn’t here?”
“Honestly?” I say, raising my brow and liking her more and more.
“Yeah…I mean beyond the, uh, typical maintenance requirements of you men,” she says, her eyes darting down to my crotch and back up again. “I think some things are best left a mystery.”
I chuckle. “I’d probably be watching some movie and eating my takeout with a beer.”
“Then I’m totally down to do the same.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I have to ask because this morning—”
“Was my screw up,” she finishes. I just…I think I misread you.”
“How so?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“When I mentioned Francis, I thought…maybe you were judging me. I find it hard to read you sometimes and—”
I stalk over and take her face in my hands. “Honey, the only thing you should have read there is my hating the idea of any other man being with you. I don’t care what your relationship was with him, or how you want to identify it.”
She beams.
“What else?”
Her eyes roll up to the side and a guilty smile touches her lips. “And Emily?”
I wait for her eyes to come back to me so she can hopefully see how easy they are to read right now.
“A distant memory. When you mentioned her, I was going through the motions of putting her
firmly out of my brain.”
She reaches up on her toes and I get a nice replay of how she met me in the hallway a moment ago. It’s just as good the second time around.
“I have a better idea before dinner,” Honey says after pulling away.
“What’s that?”
“Allow me to show you.”
When she falls to her knees, it begins to paint a clearer picture. I’m near the kitchen counter and fall back against it as she begins to unbuckle my pants.
“I for one see no reason to wait a whole month for your special day to come around.”
I have no idea what she means by that—my birthday is in August—but when I feel her fingers wrap around my rapidly growing dick, I don’t give a damn.
“Honey,” I gasp when her lips first meet the tip.
She sinks lower and my hands instinctively come to her head if only to have something to hold onto.
The heart beret she’s wearing slides off to the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Honey giggles around my shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body.
My hands come up to grip the edge of the counter instead as she lowers herself almost to the hilt.
I doubt even heaven could feel this good.
Whatever Catholic mental blocks I have over that one implode under her amazing tongue and mouth. I close my eyes and try to relax, extending the enjoyment of it.
Then she goes and adds her hands, reaching in to cup my balls and do something that I couldn’t explain if you asked
The combination might as well be TNT.
A spark begins somewhere near my stomach, lighting a sizzling path lower and lower as she continues to bob her head up and down, consuming and releasing me.
When it reaches home base, I’m barely able to utter a warning.
Honey circles the tip, flicking her tongue around to encourage it, then swallows it whole as I erupt.
I’m practically melting against the counter when she pulls away with a smile.
“You really are amazing,” I say, still breathless.
Something in her smile falters, as though she wants to say something. Then she seems to think better of it, and instead hops up on her feet.
Tease Page 13