“Oysters and champagne?”
“Yeah. It seemed appropriate under the circumstances.”
“I don’t like oysters,” Susan said.
He reached for the telephone and dialed. The sheet over his g
roin was dislodged.
He either didn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“This is Mr. Payne,” he said. “If it’s not too late, make that one dozen oysters.”
He hung up and moved back to his propped-up-against-the-headboard position and looked at her. He did not pull the sheet over his nakedness.
Why does that annoy me so much? What is he doing, exposing himself like that? Saying, “Now that I know what a hot-blooded bitch—what a good fuck—you are, why worry about decency?”
“You apparently have a lot of experience in circumstances like this,” Susan heard herself say.
“Actually,” he said wryly, “I have absolutely no previous experience in a circumstance even remotely like this one.”
“Would you mind covering yourself?” she heard herself ask in the voice of a bitch.
“Sorry,” he said, and grabbed for the sheet.
“I can’t believe I did this,” she said.
Matt shrugged. The shrug—his whole attitude—infuriated her.
He made it worse by asking, “You ever hear the expression ‘These things happen’? Or, ‘Sex is what makes the world go around’?”
“Goddamn you!” Susan said.
He looked at her without expression.
“What if I’m pregnant?” she heard herself blurting.
That surprised him.
“You’re not on the pill?”
She felt herself blushing as she shook her head, “no.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need it.”
“That was an admission, in case you weren’t aware of it, that there is no good ol’ Whatsisname, the boyfriend your parents can’t stand.”
“Yes, there is—”
“Stop the bullshit, Susan,” he interrupted her rather unpleasantly. “We don’t have time for it. It’ll only make things worse than they are. If that’s possible.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she challenged.
He patted the bed beside him.
He’s ordering me to shut up and get back in bed! Goddamn him!