Lick (Stage Dive, #1)(23)

I wondered what he’d make of my and Lauren’s tiny, bedraggled apartment. A silly thought. As if he’d ever see it.

“At least they got a fridge.” He pulled one of the large stainless steel doors open. Every inch of space inside had been packed with food and beverages. “Excellent.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“Ah, the people that look after the place for me. Friends of mine. They used to look after it for the previous owner, too. I rang them, asked them to sort some stuff out for us.” He pulled out a Corona and popped the lid. “Cheers.”

I smiled, bemused. “For breakfast?”

“I’ve been awake for two days. I want a beer then I want a bed. Man, I hope they thought to get a bed.” Beer in hand, he ambled back through the lounge and up the stairs. I followed, curious.

He pushed open one bedroom door after another. There were four all up and each had its own bathroom because cool, rich people clearly couldn’t share. At the final door at the end of the hall he stopped and sagged with relief. “Thank f*ck for that.”

A kingdom of a bed made up with clean, white sheets waited within. And a couple more boxes.

“What’s with all the boxes?” I asked. “Did they only get one bed?”

“Sometimes I buy stuff on my travels. Sometimes people give me stuff. I’ve just been sending it all here for the last few years. Take a look if you want. And yes, there’s only one bed.” He took another swig of beer. “You think I’m made of money?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Says the guy who got Cartier to open so I could pick out a ring.”

“You remember that?” He smiled around the bottle of beer.

“No, I just assumed given what time of night it must have been.” I wandered over to the wall of windows. Such an amazing view.

“You tried to pick some shitty little thing. I couldn’t believe it.” He stared at me, but his gaze was distant.

“I threw the ring at the lawyers.”

He flinched and studied his shoes. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m sorry. They just made me so mad.”

“Lawyers do that.” He took another swig of the beer. “Mal said you took a swing at him.”

“I missed.”

“Probably for the best. He’s an idiot but he means well.”

“Yeah, he was really kind to me.” Crossing my arms I checked out the rest of his big bedroom, wandering into the bathroom. The Jacuzzi would have made Mal’s curl up in shame. The place was sumptuous. Yet again the feeling of not belonging, of not fitting in with the décor, hit me hard.

“That’s some heavy frown, friend,” he said.

I attempted a smile. “I’m just still trying to figure things out. I mean, is that why you took the plunge in Vegas? Because you’re unhappy? And apart from Mal you’re surrounded by jerks?”

“Fuck.” His let his head fall back. “Do we have to keep talking about that night?”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t that, okay?”

“Then what?”

“We were in Vegas, Ev. Shit happens.”

I shut my mouth.

“I don’t mean …” He wiped a hand across his face. “Fuck. Look, don’t think it was just all drinking and partying and that’s the only reason anything happened. Why we happened. I wouldn’t want you to think that.”

I flailed. It seemed the only proper response. “But that’s what I do think. That’s exactly what I think. That’s the only way this fits together in my head. When a girl like me wakes up married to a guy like you, what else can she possibly think? God, David, look at you. You’re beautiful, rich, and successful. Your brother was right, this makes no sense.”

He turned on me, face tight. “Don’t do that. Don’t run yourself down like that.”

I just sighed.

“I’m serious. Don’t you ever give what that * said another thought, understood? You are not nothing.”

“Then give me something. Tell me what it was like between us that night.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed. “Nah. I don’t want to dredge it all up, you know, water under the bridge or whatever. I just don’t want you thinking that the whole night was some alcohol-fueled frenzy or something, that’s all. Honestly, you didn’t even seem that drunk most of it.”

“David, you’re hedging. Come on. It’s not fair that you remember and I don’t.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard, cold, in a way I hadn’t heard it. He loomed over me, jaw set. “It’s not fair that I remember and you don’t, Evelyn.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going out.” True to his word, he stormed out the door. Heavy footsteps thumped along the hallway and back down the stairs. I stood staring after him.

*

I gave him a while to cool off then followed him out onto the beach. The morning light was blinding, clear blue skies all the way. It was beautiful. Salty sea air cleared my head a little. David’s words raised more questions than they answered. Puzzling that night out consumed my thoughts. I’d reached two conclusions. Both worried me. The first was that the night in Vegas was special to him. My prying or trivializing the experience upset him. The second was, I suspected, he hadn’t been all that drunk. It sounded like he knew exactly what he was doing. In which case, how the hell must he have felt the next morning? I’d rejected him and our marriage out of hand. He must have been heart-sore, humiliated.