Page 45 of Toni and Addie Go Viral

Toni

Toni struggled to sleep that night. She waited in the living room for Addie to reappear, but Addie stayed away.

Toni, objectively, couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t often that Toni was that insensitive, but her default reaction when women tried to get too close was not kindness.

Cold words and exit: that was the strategy that had always enabled her to stay commitment-free.

I want to spend time with her, though.

Addie was settled in the guest room; fortunately Emily had washed the bed linens and tossed them in to dry before she took the train back to Manhattan.

A part of Toni could admit that she was being ridiculous about pushing Addie away again, but she wasn’t sure how to undo that without getting in deeper.

They weren’t really dating, and honestly, if they weren’t on opposite sides of the country Toni would have ended it by now.

Hell, she hadn’t even shared her last name over the year they emailed.

Maybe the illusion that there was a distance, literally and emotionally, was why Toni let Addie get this close.

I should stay away from her.

Two nights in a bed ought not be enough to miss the feel of Addie next to her, and inviting Addie to sleep in her actual bed was different than sharing an anonymous hotel bed.

That was commitment territory, and Antonia Marie Darbyshire wasn’t commitment material.

So she was alone in her bed with the woman she wanted out of reach, even though they were under the same roof.

Toni flopped over again, picturing the woman she’d trusted enough to talk to like a friend and spend two nights in a row with.

Addie was remarkable. Funny, even at seemingly odd times.

They’d laughed during sex, and that was always a sign that a person was a great match.

Sex ought to be fun. It ought to make you feel like all the stress in the world has temporarily vanished.

And she defended me.

Toni wasn’t used to that. Her aunt. Her bestie-turned-agent.

Only a short list of people had ever taken the time and energy to stand up for Toni.

She was implacable, tomboyish, and smart-assed.

Most people interpreted that as impervious to insults or slights.

That wasn’t accurate, but for the most part, it was the image Toni let stand. Addie saw through it.

And I rewarded her with a scandal. If I hadn’t suggested that fake marriage…

Toni told herself that she was simply solving a problem, but there was more to it.

She wanted the illusion. She didn’t need to stage the proposal, either.

She had wanted the whole lie, though: the proposal, the wedding, the feeling of being with Addie.

She’d basically declared that they were involved, as if what they did at Cape Dove was not going to matter when the weekend was over.

But it does, and now we need to figure out how to fix that instead of thinking about whatever it is we’re doing.

Addie made Toni think dangerous what-if thoughts.

She had never believed in marriage, imagined that perfect woman, pretended she was a bride during playtime, or flipped though wedding magazines.

Marriage was an institution that allowed her father to destroy decades of her mother’s life—while he catted around with married women.

And those are my genes.

Addie deserves a better woman than me.

The condo was quiet, which was usually what Toni preferred, but after two nights of falling asleep to the sounds of Addie breathing, the silence felt oppressive.

Toni checked her phone yet again, as if there would be news from publicity in the middle of the night.

Admittedly, publicists seemed to exist on little sleep, overworked as they were, but it was after midnight on the East Coast.

After she finally fell asleep, Toni spent the night waking from odd nightmares that Addie hated her, that the publisher wanted the money back, and that all of it had been a dream: the book deals, the teaching job, the TV show, meeting Addie again in Los Angeles.

Come morning, Toni was grateful that she had a coffeepot with an automatic timer.

It was one of her favorite indulgences. Being home meant waking up to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.

She thunked the alarm to turn it off, looking for the normal morning patterns.

This was typically when her cat showed up to say good morning.

“Oscar Wilde?” Toni looked around her bed. It looked like she’d been alligator rolling all night, but there was no fuzzy menace buried in the covers.

She sniffed, smelling onion and peppers instead of just the usual coffee. That had never happened. Em wasn’t a fan of cooking in the morning, and no one else had stayed over.

Grabbing a robe and pulling it on, Toni wandered toward the kitchen.

Her cat wasn’t present, and from the smells, Addie was cooking.

Toni glanced at the clock again. Six o’clock in the morning.

Who actually cooks at this hour? Toni was more inclined to grab a bagel or banana, maybe a yogurt with granola if she had the time.

By the time Toni made her way to the kitchen, she realized that she was not prepared to see Addie there.

Instead of being irritated that Addie was making herself at home, Toni felt a strange feeling in her gut at the sight that greeted her.

There shouldn’t be, but there was a rightness to seeing Addie making herself at home—and to realizing that Addie was wearing Toni’s clothes.

That flare of affection was unexpected, but the hunger wasn’t.

Addie was wearing one of Toni’s well-worn faded sweatshirts.

The hem came down past Addie’s hips, but if Toni didn’t know better, she’d think that Addie had nothing under it.

If this had been Saturday or even Sunday before the stupid photo debacle, Toni would have felt comfortable checking.

Along with the shirt, Addie had on a pair of oversized ankle socks she’d borrowed. They ought to have looked silly, but instead she looked like a vision of everything Toni couldn’t keep. Didn’t deserve. Addie was bare from the curve of her bum to her shins, and she wasn’t self-conscious at all.

“I didn’t touch your coffee.” Addie glanced at the machine. “I was making an omelet. I found sun-dried tomatoes, an onion, and part of a pepper. Want to split it?”

“I need to go to the grocery.” Toni tried and more or less managed not to stare at Addie’s legs—at least while Addie was looking at Toni, expecting an answer.

“This worked.” Addie shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what time you head to campus, but I figured the coffee kicking on was a clue.”

Toni poured her coffee. “Do you want a cup?”

“I want tea or juice, but I guess that’s not—”

“That cupboard. There are a few tins of teas.” Toni gestured, feeling inordinately pleased by Addie’s little sound of joy. Toni hadn’t done anything to earn that sound. She pushed back her reaction to that noise, the memories that accompanied it, and focused. “Do you have a plan for the day?”

Addie filled a tea ball and dropped it in a mug. “Read? Nap? We aren’t filming today, so if I were home, I’d probably go to the gym. Here. I’m on my own.”

Toni rinsed out the teakettle and filled it while Addie divided the omelet onto two plates.

The whole thing was a kind of comfortable domesticity Toni had never shared with a woman she’d taken to bed.

Mornings after were rare enough, but to linger and share a meal was almost unheard of.

If it did happen, it was at a coffee shop or maybe room service.

This isn’t a morning after, Toni reminded herself. She’d slept in her own bed last night.

As Addie carried the plates to the table, she paused to eye Oscar Wilde, who was flicking his tail at her. “I gave him more cat kibble and some water.”

“He’s waiting for his soft pouch.” Toni released her coffee mug long enough to give him the cat food, and then she washed up again and grabbed her coffee.

Glancing at the clock, she wondered how much off her schedule would be with sitting down to eat.

She wasn’t behind yet. Mornings included coffee and wake-up time, especially if she was going to drive.

At the table she pulled up a Metro map on her phone, snapped a screenshot, and started to edit the photo—marking where the college was, the museums, and the condo. Then she texted it to Addie.

Her phone was apparently near the living room sofa, if the chime was accurate, so Toni showed her the image on her phone. “This square is us.”

“And the… is that an eyeball ?”

“Museums, things to see.” Toni grinned. “The ‘A-plus’ is the college, like on an essay.”

Addie looked like she might be trying to resist smiling. “You’re funnier than you admit.”

“You’re just biased.” Toni looked away. Being with Addie for breakfast, chatting with her, this was far too nice, too cozy, even. Toni cleared her throat and took another drink of coffee. “You can take my spare key or just leave the bolt undone and use the code. It’s a safe area.”

“Says the lady with multiple locks.”

Toni rolled her eyes. “The only time they’re all locked is when Em visits. She tends to use them all.”

Neither of them had mentioned the reason Addie was here in DC, or publicists, or the gossip, but ignoring it wasn’t going to do them any favors. Toni said, “You’ll let me know if you hear any news from the LA team?”

Addie sighed. “So far, nothing but the idea is that we just need to let it blow over. There’s always something new and juicy. The attention will die down.”

“Okay.” Toni nodded, and they ate in silence. Finally when it really was getting to the point that Toni had to get ready, she said, “It’s nice to see you longer. I mean, not necessarily under these circumstances but… if you wanted to visit again…”

“I need to think,” Addie said softly. “You were a jerk to me, even though I didn’t do anything to deserve that. I didn’t send pictures or plot this or—”

“I know. I apologized,” Toni reminded her.

“And then you tensed up about me being here, and overreacted at the thought of me borrowing a shirt.…” Addie plucked at the shirt. “I thought we were friends.”

Toni sighed. “We seem to either misunderstand each other, or I screw up—”

“Or we get along great and have mind-blowing sex,” Addie interjected. “I know the first time was me misunderstanding and overreacting.”

“This PR mess was my turn to overreact, I guess.” Toni stood, finished her coffee, and carried her plate to the sink. “Would you mind people knowing we were involved?”

“Not at all. I am not ashamed. Are you?”

“No. I’m… private.” Toni met her gaze, determined to fix this. “I didn’t think it through when I suggested the wedding. I just wanted to spend the weekend with you.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to meet for lunch? I really do want our friendship to work, even if it shifts to a friendship without sex.” Toni glanced back, then washed her plate and fork. “I’m free at one.”

“I’ll text.” Addie smiled, but it didn’t quite go all the way to her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I need a little time to think, Toni. I get that you have baggage, but you hurt me.”

There was nothing else to say to that, so Toni refilled her coffee and said, “You can text if you need anything else, too.”

And then she tried not to let her face show how much Addie’s withdrawal stung. It wasn’t like Toni could give her a real relationship, but she wasn’t ready to call this quits. Eventually, she’d have to, but right now, Addie was here.

In my home. Wearing my clothes. Cooking me breakfast.

How was Toni to keep her at distance? How was she to resist her?

Later, when there were thousands of miles between them, they could go back to emailing.

Right now, Toni wanted to cancel her classes and take Addie to bed.

What was the harm? Publicity would sort out the marriage mistake.

It wasn’t even a legal marriage, so it ought to be simple enough to get in front of this.

Why not enjoy the honeymoon she supposedly was on?