Room for You(69)

How the hell did I get into my bed?

The harder I tried to remember last night, the louder the blood rushed in my ears. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a lion’s mouth, a very angry lion who was being stabbed with a scalding hot fireplace poker.

Groaning as I rolled over, I peeked one eye open to see the clock, but a piece of paper covered it. I lifted my 700 pound arm and snatched the piece of paper off my nightstand, blinking rapidly until the words came into focus.





As painful as it was, I lifted my head and saw two aspirin and a glass of water next to my clock. I sat up in bed and concentrated on nothing but breathing for a few minutes.

In and out. In and out.

The waves of nausea finally calmed into ripples, allowing me to reach over and scoop up the pills. I popped them into my mouth and took a sip of water. The sip turned into a giant gulp as I chugged mouthful after mouthful of the cold, refreshing liquid. I set the empty glass down and looked at my outfit. Brody must have put pajamas on me too.

I wanted nothing more than to burrow myself deep into my bed for the next twelve hours, but my bladder wasn’t having it. Dragging myself upright, I silently wondered if I was still drunk. Everything hurt. Holy crap, did I drink too much last night or run a marathon?

I limbered to the bathroom and then made my way out to the family room to see what my girls were up to, praying someone was watching them.

I turned the corner to the family room and stopped dead in my tracks.

“What the…” I mumbled, trying to force my brain to process what I was seeing.

Lucy and Piper had a salon set up in the living room. Brody was propped up on the couch with cotton balls stuffed in between his toes, a mess of pink polish on his nails and his hair was pulled up into ten different short ponytails and dotted with barrettes.

He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at me. “You tell anyone about this, I’ll tell the world you drool in your sleep, a lot.”

A laugh escaped my lips, causing the pressure in my head to accelerate to an excruciating level. “Ow, ow, ow,” I whined, holding the sides of my head as I backed into the kitchen and fell onto a chair.

“See? That’s what you get,” Brody teased. “Hey guys, I’m gonna take a break. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“My turn!” Lucy called, offering to take Brody’s place.

He walked over and bent down, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

“Ow. Even my hair hurts.”

“Serves you right, Martini queen.” He laughed.

“Shhh, not so loud. Maybe a whisper for today?” I rested my head on my hands and prayed for death.

“You hungry?” His words made my stomach turn. “Maybe you’d like a … green apple?”

“Are you trying to make me sick?” I mumbled against the wood table.

“Not really, but this is kinda fun. How about some coffee?” He stood and turned the coffee pot on.

“Yes, please.” I growled.

Brody didn’t talk through my whole first cup of coffee and half of my second. He told the girls Mommy had a headache and promised them that if they played quietly, he’d let them paint his fingernails later.

“Do you remember anything about last night?” he finally asked.

I thought hard, but nothing came back. “The last thing I really remember is walking my mom and Fred to the car. Where is Mom, anyway?”

“She said she had breakfast plans with a friend but didn’t want to go because of your … condition.” He chuckled. “I told her I’d watch the girls and take care of you.”

“You handled the girls all right,” I teased as I filled my coffee cup for the third time. I may not sleep for the next two days because of all the caffeine, but as long as the headache was gone, that was just fine by me.

“Last night was interesting.” Brody had a funny look on his face.

“Did I do anything stupid?”

“Nope, not at all.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “But you’re one hell of a dancer.”

I groaned and dropped my head back onto my hands, harder than I intended to. “Ow. Did you put me in bed?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did you change me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did we…” My eyes darted over to make sure the girls couldn’t hear us.

He laughed. “No. I’m not exactly into necrophilia—you were passed out before the first stoplight. You did say one interesting thing though.”

“What was that?” I asked, without lifting my head to look at him.

“You said you loved me.”

I stopped breathing, as panic filled my chest and made my head pound harder. Slowly, I lifted my head and looked at Brody who was smiling contentedly, blowing on his own mug of coffee.

“I did?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes searching my face.

“Sorry about that.” I cringed.

He pulled his brows together and frowned at me. “Sorry? Why would you apologize?”

“I was drunk, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you love me?”

Oh God, oh God. I wanted to puke and it didn’t have anything to do with my hangover. My head hurt, and now my heart hurt. Looking at Brody’s soulful eyes, knowing he was waiting for an answer I couldn’t give him was hard. Too hard.