Act Your Age, Eve Brown (The Brown Sisters #3)(66)

There: that meant he’d only have to live beside her, to know she was in here alone at night with nothing but the toy he’d used to make her come, for another four days.

Dear God, it was going to be hell.

“Fine,” Eve said after a moment’s pause. “Fine. Yes. Thursday. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes. Thursday. Good.” He forced the words out of his throat.

She lifted her chin. “Good.”

His eyes caught on her mouth, and he remembered the moment he’d kissed her, and he wanted to relive it again and again and again for the rest of his life.

“I should go,” he said stiffly.

She didn’t stop him.

*

Eve held her breath and counted to ten. The door clicked shut behind Jacob before she’d hit four, because he wasn’t the long, lingering-looks sort, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have given them to her.

Sigh.

She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, because it didn’t. Or rather, it shouldn’t. She barely knew the man, and she wasn’t permitted to have him. He was a bad choice, of course he was: her employer. Her temporary employer. A high-handed, frosty, impossible man who’d probably end up married to someone severe and put together and dear God, why the bloody hell was Eve thinking about marriage right now? The point was, sleeping with Jacob had been one of her life’s many terrible, thoughtless, immature choices, and she should be grateful he’d put such a firm stop to things.

It was both senseless and pathetic to wish that Jacob had said something entirely different. To wish that he’d asked her for something she couldn’t give and shouldn’t want. Eve repeated this mantra to herself several thousand times over, until it took on a little rhythm inside her mind, one she was too hollow to actually sing. Then she heard the faint sound of the shower turning on down the hall, and instead of smirking because she knew exactly what Jacob must be doing in there, her lower lip wobbled dangerously because he wouldn’t be doing it with her.

She looked around the room that had been filled with so much hope and happiness at the start of the evening, and then breathless lust, and now disappointment, and she sort of cracked right down the middle.

Which is how she found herself sitting butt naked by the window, crying very quietly, while waiting for her grandmother to pick up the phone.

The moment Gigi answered with a drawled, “Sugar lump. Is something on fire?” Eve’s senses returned.

“Oh, God,” she said, swiping the tears from her cheeks. “It must be so late—”

“Shush, shush. Not to worry. Vani and I were just watching Cat People.”

“Sorry,” Eve sniffled, her voice a whisper. Because Jacob could get out of the shower at any minute, and then he might hear her.

“Why are you whispering, my darling little Coco Pop? Cough twice if you’re in a hostage situation.”

Eve laughed, but somewhere along the way her voice got confused and the laugh turned into a sob.

“Shivani,” she heard Gigi say, voice slightly muffled. “I require a recess. Yes. No, darling, don’t worry.”

Oh, God; now her grandmother was interrupting date night to deal with the sobbing granddaughter on the phone. Eve was suddenly mortified by the childish behavior she’d reverted to. Steeling herself, she said quickly, “No, please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Sweetness, you quite obviously need to talk. And so, we shall talk.”

“No—that’s not—I’m terribly sorry, Gigi. I suppose I called you out of habit, but I’m a big girl and I can solve my own problems.” She didn’t even have a problem, for heaven’s sake: she was just a bit upset by a decision that made perfect sense.

And slightly annoyed, perhaps, by the fact that it hadn’t been her decision. That Jacob had so cleverly and decisively taken it all out of her hands. It didn’t take two people to decide they wouldn’t sleep together again; it only took one. But it certainly took two people to decide that Eve urgently needed to move out, didn’t it? Surely it wouldn’t kill him to discuss things rather than bossing her about as if they were—well, as if they were at work?

The sadness in her chest became a sudden, unexpected spark of irritation.

“Darling,” Gigi was saying, “are you listening to me?”

Oh, Christ. Not only had she disturbed her poor grandmother in the middle of the night, she’d then completely zoned out of their conversation. “Yes. Absolutely. Sorry, Gigi.”

“Don’t apologize. I know how you get when you’re thinking. But I have to say, my little muffin case, I cannot allow you to behave as if calling me when you’re upset is some sort of childish tantrum.”

Gigi sounded unusually disapproving, her severe tone unfamiliar enough to capture Eve’s attention. “Erm . . . you . . . can’t?”

“No. I’m glad you’re taking life by the bollocks, and what have you, darling, but that doesn’t mean renouncing all human connection to become an invulnerable monk type out in the woods. It’s perfectly reasonable to call someone you trust when something’s bothering you.”

“Oh. Well,” Eve said slowly, “when you put it like that, I suppose it is.” She certainly wouldn’t think her sisters were childish if they reached out to her with a problem or just a dark mood—in fact, she wished they’d do that sort of thing more often. They were very self-sustaining, but they’d also struggled with certain things for far longer than necessary, simply because they refused to ask for help.