Page 146 of Boyfriend of the Hour

“In a minute,” I replied. “I’ll be in soon.”

He gave a curt nod and disappeared into the bedroom.

I showered quickly, changed into the T-shirt still in my bag, and tiptoed into Nathan’s room to find the bedside light on for me. My fake boyfriend—fiancé—whatever he was…was already fast asleep. I watched him for a moment, enjoying the peace on his face while he slumbered. The anger, the confusion, and the tension were erased in his dreams.

Good for him. He deserved it.

As soon as I slipped into the bed, I was once again gathered into his chest while he slumbered. He nuzzled my neck and threw a heavy leg over my hip. His scent of sleep and soap and warmth wrapped around me as securely as his blanket.

“Come here,” he murmured into my ear, though his breathing was heavy enough that I knew he was already asleep.

Her, I thought, even as my body naturally relaxed under his heavy, secure weight. He was thinking of her.

Not the woman Carrick told me about, but the one he had almost married.

Undoubtedly, someone who wasn’t parading around in front of men for tips.

Someone who wasn’t hiding her worst side from him.

Someone who didn’t have secrets like me.

Still, I didn’t move. I knew there was a good chance this might be the last night I’d ever spend in this bed, with this man, in this space where I knew I belonged.

I shouldn’t have taken it.

But I never claimed to be a good person.

A flirt, maybe. A charmer.

But never good.

I was definitely not that.

TWENTY-EIGHT

WHY I NEED DANCING

#2 it makes everything else in my head quiete

It was almost three in the afternoon when I finally woke up, sunlight blazing through the window on an icy winter day. Nathan was long gone, off to perform life-altering surgeries and then finish his usual clinic hours.

I spent an hour lying there, smelling his sheets and wondering if that ghost of a goodbye kiss on my cheek actually happened or was just a figment of my imagination. Then I laid there for another hour, debating whether or not I should just cancel my appearance at the gala. Whether I should just cancel the whole arrangement and go back to Belmont, where I belonged. After all, Carrick was probably going to spill what he’d seen to Nathan anyway, so there was no reason for this to continue.

But in the end, I kept seeing Nathan’s big brown eyes blinking at me from across the bar. I remembered him saying he didn’t care what I wanted to do, as long as it was my choice.

And I imagined the disappointment coloring his features if I bailed on the one promise I’d made to him in all of this: just to be there.

That alone got me out of bed.

When I was little, I often had a hard time sleeping in the room I shared with two of my sisters. Frankie snored, and Marie kicked me in her sleep. More nights than not, I’d sneak out after bed and crouch at the top of the stairs so I could peek at whatever my older siblings were watching on TV.

Soul Foodwas one of the few movies Lea and Kate could always agree on with their friends. Not exactly appropriate bedtime fare for a six-year-old, but I usually fell asleep on the stairs before the Big Mama fell into her coma. I usually tried to stay awake until my favorite scene, though. The one where Faith, the wayward cousin, does her dance audition to a piano version of “Don’t Leave Me” by Blackstreet. She was the bad one in the family. The one who stole everyone’s man. The fuckup and nothing else.

In that scene, though, she dances and comes alive, and everyone watching knows it. They don’t think she’s a screw-up. They think she’s an artist. A person with real merit. And it was to those beautiful, butter-smooth piano riffs.

Even at that age, I could relate.

It was the reason I started dancing in the first place. I rewound the VHS tape and taught myself her choreography until Nonna finally put me in dance classes just to stop hearing the music.