Weekend Wife (Sassy in the City 1)

“There are lots of positive comments too. Which isn’t surprising. Like I said, you sound fantastic.”

“Weird. It doesn’t seem like something that would go viral.” It didn’t seem like that interesting of a video.

“I wouldn’t call this viral,” Grant said.

Okay, then. “Way to burst my bubble.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. It’s just viral is usually like millions of views. I’m sure you could go viral.”

I knew he didn’t mean it that way, but it felt like a slap in the face. A dream-crushing reality statement.

“No, I can’t.” I reached up and took my phone back. “I’m not a six-year-old sounding like Judy Garland. I’m not someone with an interesting story. I’m just another okay-looking, okay-singing twentysomething trying to find a job in entertainment. From an industry perspective, there is nothing interesting about me whatsoever. I don’t stand out.”

It was rare that I allowed myself to indulge in negativity. Truthfully, I didn’t even feel that way very often. I had been born an optimist. But even though I doubted he’d meant to hurt me, it had just seemed so obvious that I was fighting an uphill battle because he was right. Viral videos are viewed millions of times, and here I was about ten thousand and shocked even by that volume. The difference was insurmountable.

“You don’t have to wear a meat dress to stand out. Talent stands out, Leah.”

Maybe it was being in his apartment. Maybe it was all those boxes of designer clothes in the other room waiting to be packed into luggage that cost thousands of dollars. Maybe it was Grant’s confidence. Not just in his career, his life. Confidence that I would take this “job.” That I would agree to come over tonight. Maybe it was that now he seemed a little reserved. Maybe it was all of those things.

But I felt worried that maybe my talent wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Which was precisely why I hadn’t wanted to date a rich guy.

Not that I was. I was fake dating a rich guy.

I was also draped over his hard, masculine chest, with a sore body from sex.

I hit the pause button on the video. I didn’t want to hear my voice anymore. “Sure, it does,” I said. “In a fantasy world.” I tossed my phone on the nightstand and t

ried to shake my unexpected mood. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to get a glass of water. Do you want one too? Also, we should get started packing. That’s a lot of boxes out there.”

Grant reached for my arm as I sat up. “Hey. You okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. That sounded a lot like I’m a total dickhead, and I swear, I didn’t mean it that way. I spoke without thinking.”

He looked concerned.

Which actually made me feel worse. He felt sorry for me.

“It’s totally fine. It wasn’t you. It was the video that reminded me of things I don’t necessarily like to think about. Now let’s not worry about any of that and just enjoy our night together. I still have half of my sangria to drink.” I gave him a smile. Mostly fake, but partially real. “I keep getting distracted by a certain sexy real estate developer.”

“Do I know him?” Grant said, looking relieved that I was letting him off the hook for his unintentionally thoughtless comment. “I’ll crush the competition.”

“He’s great in bed,” I warned. “It’s a lot to live up to.”

Grant threw the bedding off and stood up. He strolled across his bedroom and into his bathroom. “I’m not worried. I’m taking a shower. Care to join me?”

I did and I didn’t. I would love the distraction, and well, all that hard, muscular nakedness rubbing up against me. But at the same time, I needed a minute alone to regroup. “Not this time.”

Pulling my sweatshirt on, I fished around in the bedding until I found my panties and put those on as well. I went into the living room and busied myself cleaning up our takeout food. I washed the wok and wiped down the countertop. Then I started methodically transferring clothing into the luggage. It was mindless and made me feel accomplished.

I used the tissue between layers of clothing, and found nooks and crannies for all the boxes of jewelry. When all the shopping bags were emptied, I started folding them down and wondered what the hell Grant was doing. I felt better. It had been a brief pity party that I had come home early from. What was I worried about? I could pay my bills, comfortably now thanks to Grant’s job offer, and I had friends and endless opportunities in my dream town.

It was all good.

Luggage all zipped up and resting against the wall, I went in search of Grant, wondering if he had drowned in the shower or fallen asleep. He was in the second bedroom, which was set up as an office. He was sitting behind the desk, at his laptop. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and I suspected he was totally naked.

“Hey,” he said, glancing up at me. “Sorry. Something came up at work and I had to address it. Are you all packed?”

“Yep. Many expensive garments ready to roll out for a forty-eight-hour trip.” I went around the desk and glanced at his computer.