Good Time(22)

Lydia emerges from her bedroom and introduces us, then gives me a second glance. “Payton, why are you still wearing the same thing you had on last night?” Sweet clueless Lydia. Also, fuck my life, I cannot catch a break today.

“Am I? Enough about me. How was the sex last night?” Partly that’s a deflection, partly I really want to know. I gave away my virginity in high school to a guy who probably still thinks it was the best lay of my life. It wasn’t.

“Payton!” Lydia is mortified. “I’m not going to tell you what Rhys is like in bed when he’s standing right here.”

That’s fair. If by that she means she’s going to tell me about it later. If not, it’s bullshit.

“So what are you guys doing today?” I glance between her and Rhys, confused about why he’s in our apartment. I assume he’s dropping her off from their night of debauchery but I don’t know why he’s still here.

“I’m just packing a few things,” Lydia says, heading back to her room. “Rhys wants me to stay over for a while.”

Oh, right, that month-long thing. I was kinda hoping we were going to ease into this by splitting Lydia like one splits a child during a custody arrangement. He’d get her on Wednesday evenings and every other weekend and I’d get her the rest of the time. I feel a lump in my throat, realizing that this is it. She’s packing up to spend the month with him, which means I’m never getting her back. She’s going to move in with him and make him crockpot dinners and sew buttons back on his shirts like it’s 1957 and he’s going to fall in love with her and keep her in his ivory tower with him forever.

“I live in a hotel, not in a castle,” Rhys responds, looking at me like I’m nuts, and I realize I might have said part of that aloud. Sue me, it’s been a long night and I’m dehydrated.





Chapter Thirteen





Once Rhys and Lydia leave I find a box of Cheez-Its and a bottle of Gatorade and take them into the shower with me. What? Like you’ve never eaten crackers in the shower after a rough night? I’m just a girl trying her hardest, don’t judge me. Besides, the countertop in my bathroom runs right up to the shower, so technically the crackers weren’t in the shower.

‘Technically’ is a word people use when they want to draw murky lines around their behavior and deflect away from information they might regret providing you with.

I’ve toweled off and am halfway into a pair of yoga pants when my phone starts buzzing with incoming texts. Texts from Canon, oddly. Odd because I don’t have Canon’s phone number and I’ve never added him to my phone as a contact. Yet here he is.

Canon Reeves: Vince is looking for you





Canon Reeves: How was the honeymoon suite?





Canon Reeves: Make sure you leave a nice review online. It’s the least you can do





Canon Reeves: A review about the suite, not Vince. That kind of language will get the review bounced





Me: HOW ARE YOU PROGRAMMED INTO MY PHONE AND HOW DO YOU HAVE MY PHONE NUMBER?





Canon Reeves: Oh, that was easy.





Me: Really?





Canon Reeves: Yeah. I pulled your number from your employment file. Then I hacked into your phone and added myself as a contact so my texts would show up with my name so you’d answer them. You’re welcome.





Me: REALLY?





Canon Reeves: Yeah, like I said, it’s not that hard.





Me: Not what I meant by REALLY, dick. INAPPROPRIATE use of my personal information.





Canon Reeves: Oh. So you didn’t want a heads-up that Vince is on his way?





Me: His way where?





Canon Reeves: To your apartment.





Me: How does he know I’m at my apartment…





Canon Reeves: Location services on your phone. It’s easy.





Me: OMG.





Canon Reeves: No, really. A child could track you this way.





Me: NOT WHAT I MEANT.





Canon Reeves: Should I add Vince’s number to your contacts? I was going to do it but I wasn’t sure how to enter his info. Vince Rossi? Husband? Boo? BAE?





Me: …





Canon Reeves: …





Me: So you hacked me, stalked me and gave Vince my address?





Canon Reeves: He knows I know how to do it. What was I gonna do, tell him no?





Me: Yes?





Canon Reeves: Don’t put me in the middle, bro. He’s my friend but I feel some loyalty to you after you made me your maid of honor last night.





Me: Not exactly how I remember it…





Canon Reeves: I picked out your goddamned veil. Just let me have my moment for fuck’s sake.