Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(148)

He moves a little lighter this time, but not as fast as I would like.

“Stay here! Do not say a word or come out. If you do, I will kill you. When I get Maggie to follow me into the bathroom, then you will quietly exit my apartment. Got it?” I order.

Joe grabs my face and plants a sensual kiss on my lips. It takes me a few seconds to pull away.

“I’m here,” Maggie shouts, opening the door.

“Stay and hide,” I mouth to Joe.

Running down the short hall, I almost collide into Maggie as she heads toward the guest bathroom. Shit! What the hell?!

“Hey,” I greet. “Why don’t you use the master?” I direct.

“This one is closer,” she replies, yanking her dress up and her underwear down, leaving the door wide open. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry. I was in the bathroom when you buzzed,” I lie convincingly.

“Ohh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I remark. “Why are you here so early?”

Maggie finishes relieving herself before answering, “Henry left early this morning for some business back in China. He’s going to be there for at least a week, maybe longer, and I figured since I was up, knew you are always up early and I’m starting to freak out about all of this while he’s gone, and that I need my best girlfriend.”

“There’s no need to freak out,” I console as we head out to the kitchen. “Everything is getting done. Having Amelia is a godsend.”

“I know, right?!” she agrees with a sigh. “It’s just my family and Henry’s family. It’s getting to be a little too much for me. I need a break from it all or else I’m going to snap.”

“Don’t know why . . .” I sarcastically reply which gets her to smile.

“So . . . before we get into wedding stuff, I want to know about the premier!” she discloses.


I internally cringe before passively asking, “What about it?”

“Nathan told me, but I want to hear it directly from you! Are you excited?” She bounces up and down on the bar stool.

“Ahhh, sure,” I proclaim.

“Why aren’t you excited?” she asks with a disappointed pucker. “You’ve got a hunky guy taking you out for a night in the spotlight.”

“All of that,” I contend, taking out some fruit from the fridge for us to eat.

“So, you really are just doing it to help Nathan?!” Maggie double checks, not that she didn’t believe Nathan when he told her.

“Yes. It’s just a business transaction to get Nathan and his designs noticed,” I reinforce.

“So you really aren’t into him anymore?”

“Who? Chris?”

“Yeah, Chris.”

“No. And, I was never interested in the first place,” I disclose.

“You were interested in him enough to have sex with him,” she reminds.

I wince but fail to hide it.

“Why don’t you sleep with him again,” Maggie suggests.

“No! Hell no,” I rebut.

“Was it that bad?” she searches.

Maggie and I never actually talked about it that night after Ayana’s beyond the few details I disclosed at Nathan’s the next day. We were too busy getting each other off. I don’t want to say too much. God only knows Joe is enjoying overhearing this conversation. I know he is. I would be eagerly listening in if I was him right now.

“He finished before me and it was Molly who got me off, remember,” I blurt loudly.

Shit. I meant for that to be more of a whisper.

“Well, thank God for Molly,” Maggie chuckles. “And, then me later that night!”

I can’t help but join her in the amusement. “Yeah . . . .”

“What’s up with you?” she accuses.

“What?” I deny.

“Don’t what me,” she declares. “You’ve been weird lately.”

“No, I haven’t,” I try to deflect her statement.

“Yes, you have and you are right now,” she stands her ground.

I don’t say anything and we stare at each other for what feels like a minute in silence.

“You need to get laid. When was the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t need to get laid,” I proclaim, not wanting to talk about it.

“Bullshit,” she yells and immediately clasps her hands over her mouth.

We both giggle. Maggie never swears.

“When was the last time you got laid?” she presses.

“The other day,” I answer.

“With who?” she pries, not believing me.

We openly talk about sex, so she knows that something is up since I’m trying to avoid the whole thing.

“B.O.B.”

“Battery operated boyfriends don’t count,” she declares.

“B.O.B. counts,” I retort, defending my statement. “I can always count on B.O.B. to do his job.”

“Self-satisfaction never counts.” Maggie studies me for a moment. “Oh my God!”

“What?” I reply with a mouth fully of strawberry.

“Oh my God!”

“What!” I repeat.

She’s starting to freak me out.