My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(61)

My feelings, too, about how my mother handled things then and how she handled them better later on.

I’ve poured those complicated feelings into all of my books.

My books I write alone.

The ones I write with Axel.

My stories have given me this life, this freedom, this chance to write off wine, to travel to Paris, and to live on my own terms.

Independently from anyone else.

From any controlling man.

As we wander through the fair, focusing on jewelry, studying pretty baubles and bling for Rachel, she asks me more about the tour. I tell her about the Book Besties—their big hearts, their goals, their careers, and their passions. “Most of all, they’re so supportive, even though they hardly see each other.”

“Like us,” she says, with a happy but vulnerable look. One I return in kind—I’m grateful to have a friend like her.

“Just like us.”

We talk more about Rachel’s business, then it’s time to go. I catch the Metro so I won’t be late for our evening signing, and as the train rumbles along, my mind drifts to another friendship—the one I’m rekindling with Axel.

I replay earlier this afternoon with him, then I imagine later tonight.

I badly want to see him again, and I fear my feelings are only getting messier and a lot less friendly.





31





IRON DICK


Hazel

Show me a writer who’s an extrovert and I’ll show you a liar. I feel like I have jet lag again after the evening’s signing at a bookstore in the Latin Quarter, followed by a tasting at a chocolate shop—one that was the inspiration for the chocolate shop in The I Do Redo.

By the time Axel, the VIP readers, and I return to the hotel near midnight, I’m crashing from the wonderful, but long day.

The Book Besties invite me for a drink in the lobby, but my yawn wards them off before I can even answer.

Jackie holds up a stop-sign hand as I close my mouth. “Nope. I take it back. No drinks for you,” she says, going all mama hen.

“But can we have breakfast?” I ask. These ladies are so fun. Their friend energy is goals. I want to inhale it for a little longer.

“Of course,” Jackie says, sounding thrilled. “There’s a cute boulangerie around the corner.”

“Let’s do it,” I say, then she shepherds me to the elevator. I don’t bother to resist. I don’t look back, either, to see if Axel is coming now or later. I have faith I’ll see him.

“Night, Jackie,” I say. “See you in the morning.”

“Get some rest, hon. Tomorrow’s another busy day.”

“It is,” I say, then I head up to the sixth floor.

When I shut the door to my room, breathing in the silence and enjoying it this time for much-needed replenishment, my phone buzzes.

I slide it open right away. Maybe it’s Axel telling me he’ll meet me here any minute. I guess that means I don’t need a break from him at all. But I don’t entirely want to contemplate what that means as I read his text.

Axel: Try not to be shocked. Steven the Nikon Man has corralled me into a drink. He wants to talk shop some more.





Hazel: Talk shop but don’t get whiskey dick.



Axel: As if I could get whiskey dick.





Hazel: Anyone can get whiskey dick.



Axel: Not this guy.





Hazel: You’re immune to it?



Axel: Yes.





Hazel: I guess you’ll have to prove it.



Axel: I will, Hazel Horny-All-The-Time Valentine.





Hazel: Did you just rhyme?



Axel: I believe I did. Do not hold it against me.





Hazel: I will absolutely hold it against you.



Axel: I’ll hold you against me and my iron dick.





I laugh, then set the phone down on the table by the door, kick off my shoes, and head to the bathroom. After I wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into a tank top and undies, I slide into bed.

I finished that celebrity memoir on the train, so I download Saanvi’s new romance about a cop and a firefighter fighting their burning feelings for each other. It’s scorching and emotional from the get-go, but the day is catching up with me, and by the time jeans are being unzipped on my e-reader, my eyelids are fluttering.

A boat floats by. I see a woman laughing, a man smiling. A warm, hazy feeling wraps around me as I slip away.



A faint knock tugs on my blurry mind. Then, it grows louder. I bolt up. What time is it?

I squint at the clock. It’s after one. Bleary-eyed, I hop out of bed and head to the door, where I peer into the peephole.

My chest squeezes when I see a guy in glasses, dragging one hand through his hair, holding a tumbler of amber liquid in the other.

I open the door, careful to stay out of sight just in case readers linger in the hall on the way to their rooms.

Axel marches in wearing a satisfied grin.

Making a show of it, he takes a swallow of the liquor, then sets down the glass with panache. He points to his pelvis. The outline of his erection is visible, and I crack up.