Space (Laws of Physics #2)(50)

Mona forcefully sat, grabbed her cup of tea, and glared at me over the rim as she downed the rest of its contents. At her side, Allyn made a short sound of protest, her gaze moving between Mona and the cup, and then to me.

Her friend’s eyes were wide, rimmed with worry, maybe a hint of panic. Studying the women, I wrestled with curiosity and the impulse to chase after Mona, and to drag her caveman-style into my room. To ignore the pain and the wrong and seize this rare moment of honesty. She was angry? Fine. Let’s take our aggression out on each other in ways that didn’t hurt, ways that felt good.

Why couldn’t that be our last moment?

What would it be like to have Mona DaVinci? I winced slightly at the thought, flashes of carnal imagery an assault. It wasn’t the first time I wondered. Would she be cold? Rationing her touches? Requiring that I ration mine? Would she tease me? Make me suffer for her? Would she let me tease her?

These were dangerous thoughts to be having with her sitting there, within reach, still throwing knives with her eyes.

Finished with her tea, she reached for Allyn’s. Plucking it from her friend’s hand, she spilled a little on the couch. Either she didn’t notice or she didn’t care, because in the next second she was downing that cup too.

The action felt spiteful, like she hoped to punish me by drinking tea, and I couldn’t stop the grim smile at her absurdity. I didn’t care if she drank tea. I didn’t want to care about her. I’d chased her before, I wasn’t chasing her again. She was finished with me? Fine.

“Fine,” I said quietly, to no one, but knew at once she’d read my lips. Her gaze narrowed, darker, angrier.

So. Fucking. Hot.

Shaking my head at myself, I exhaled a breath that felt like an inferno leaving my lungs and ripped my eyes from hers. Turning aimlessly in the other direction, I commanded my feet to carry me to the far side of the room.

That’s when I finally looked up and remembered we had an audience. Kaitlyn—and presumably everyone else—was looking at me like I was someone different, openly gaping, her eyebrows high on her forehead.

We hadn’t been yelling. In fact, Mona had whispered every one of her angry words, but our body language must’ve been unmistakable. Kaitlyn’s attention drifted past me to where Mona and Allyn sat, and a small, mischievous hint of a smile tugged her mouth to one side. She started forward, her eyes cutting to mine, her smile growing.

“I’ll be right back,” she said gleefully.

“Kaitlyn.” I made sure my voice sounded like a warning.

She walked faster. “Or I won’t be right back.”

Gritting my teeth, suppressing a string of curses, I shook my head and sighed. Great. Just great. I couldn’t wait for Leo to hear about this.

A hand on my shoulder had me glancing over, following the line of the arm to Bruce’s sober expression. “Hey, man. Want that drink now?” He held out a glass. “You look like you need it.”

I nodded. I took it. I drank it. “Thanks.”

“You bet.” He gave me a commiserating non-smile. “Let me make you another.”





I didn’t have another drink.

I left.

I needed to cool off, and I knew myself. There wouldn’t be any cooling off with Mona around. Grabbing the snow shovel in the mudroom and not bothering with my coat, I cleared the slate path between the house and the ski lift house. There wasn’t much snow, just a few inches, but it was enough.

Calmer, I returned to the house and removed my boots in the mudroom. I was cold, my teeth were chattering, but my skin still felt hot, too tight. Pulling off my wet sweater, I hung it in the closet and took the stairs up to the main floor, intent on my room and the lyric notebook waiting on my desk.

I had no lines, no clear direction, yet something had to give. Even recording the bursts of nonsense running through my mind would be a relief. I’d just climbed the top stair when I heard a loud groan, like a sound of defeat, coming from the living room, followed by sloppy laughter.

“Oh no! Bruce! You’re out.” Mona’s voice stopped me.

It and the words spoken were very un-Mona like.

Swerving from my original destination, I walked slowly toward the sounds, straining my ears for clues as to what I might see when I arrived. More groaning, glasses clinking, laughter, nothing that would have prepared me for what I found.

I absorbed several things at once: only five people remained in the room, playing cards were scattered all over the coffee table and floor, an empty bottle of vodka and a half-finished bottle of whiskey also sat on the coffee table along with too many shot glasses to count, Charlie and Bruce were in nothing but boxers, Jenny Vee and Allyn in their bras and underwear, and Mona.

Mona.

Mona wore the most—wool socks, yoga pants, plain black bra—but her shirt and sweater were gone.

“Hey ya Abram, old buddy, old pal.” Allyn lifted her arm and waved, noticing me first, but promptly lowered it, like it was too heavy. She wasn’t giving me the stare down. This was probably because she was intoxicated.

“What the hell is going on?” My eyes moved up and down Mona’s body, and everything was right and wrong. Right because I missed seeing her skin. I missed her body. I ached for it. But wrong because no part of her body was mine to miss.

“She wanted to play strip poker,” Charlie said, pointing to Mona like they were kids and he didn’t want to take the blame for getting caught. But the arm he raised offset his balance and he fell over. Laughing. Drunk.