Her smile faltered. Her expression told me something was wrong. Oh fuck, here we go again. I was about to get kicked out of her life all over again.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, suddenly shy, pulling the sheet back over my withering cock.
“I’ll pour us coffee in the kitchen.” She got off the bed and moved to the door. “Get dress and come out. We need to talk.”
I frowned. I hated those words. Nothing good ever came after those four words. Not to mention the way she said it sounded extremely familiar, and I could see from the way she nervously played with her hands that needing to talk was going to ruin my day. I sighed and sat up in bed, my hard-on now a distant memory.
“What is it? Just tell me”
She shook her head and stood up. “Get dressed,” she said. “I can’t take you seriously like that.”
I didn’t want to be taken fucking seriously. I wanted answers, and at the same time I didn’t want a replay of what had happened years ago. Last night had been incredible. I had never experienced anything like it after she had left me, and I wanted more. A part of me believed there could be more, and just thinking about what she wanted to talk about me left me frustrated.
I took my time, showered for longer than I needed, and tried to cool off. This was a conversation I didn’t want to have. Not now. Especially not after last night.
I found her in the living room, drinking her own mug of coffee and gesturing to mine at the kitchen counter. I took a sip, then a longer one, and silently wished my headache away. I wanted to be clear for this. I sat down on the couch opposite her, already anticipating what was coming.
“Is this the part where you tell me what an awful mistake last night was?” I asked, setting my mug down and looking her in the eye.
She looked away. “Stop that.”
“No, really, because if it is, then I’ve heard it all before,” I said, feeling the anger rising inside me before I could hold it back. “I have to admit, though, it’s a lot quicker this time around. Just one night. Not bad.”
“Chad, that’s not what this is.”
“Then what is this?”
She put her mug down next to mine and bit her lower lip, a sure sign that she had no idea how to tell me whatever it was she wanted to tell me. “I got some news this morning,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “Not very good news. Horrible news, actually.”
I waited, a part of me already scoffing at whatever excuse she was going to throw at me this time. I suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Stupid for letting my guard down. Stupid for thinking this might have gone somewhere, that we could have picked up where we last left of. Stupid for even trying to rehash the past.
You should have just stuck with the easy lays, man.
“Your fight with Mark… It’s all over the internet,” she said.
“It wasn’t really a fight,” I said smartly. “It was more of his face hitting a table.”
“Please, this isn’t funny,” she said. “My publisher called me in this morning. Mark is also their author. He makes them a lot of money. There could be complications.”
I frowned. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about what happened last night going viral, but I wasn’t the first person to get into a fight in public and have his face all over the internet. I patted my pants for my phone, knowing that Martin had probably already worked up a shi
t storm and was ready to bombard me with a load of crap I didn’t want to deal with. Besides, no publicity is bad publicity. Wasn’t that the saying?
“Mark’s trying to press his weight with the publishers,” Zoe continued. “He may try to get them to break my contract.”
“That’s bullshit,” I replied, clenching my fists. I was already imagining that bastard’s face in front of me. “They can’t do that anyway. You can sue them. Surely you have a contract.”
Zoe shook her head. “They won’t do break my contract,” she said. “But they are insisting that I stay out of whatever Mark throws at you.”
“Me?” I blinked at her. “What could the fucker to do me?”
She glanced up at me, and for a split second, I thought I could see tears in her eyes. They were gone just as fast when she turned away and reached for her mug again.
“Mark’s suing you, Chad,” Zoe said. “And he’s threatening to sue me, too. The publishers can convince Mark to leave me out of it, as long as I steer away from the spotlight on the lawsuit.”
“What?” I barked, confused as hell. Too much information in one sentence, and my headache wasn’t helping. I glanced at my voicemail. There were a dozen calls from Martin. Bad publicity was one thing, but a lawsuit? That could ruin everything. It was definitely going to screw up any plans of opening in New York. I didn’t even register the rest of what she said.
“That son of a bitch,” I hissed. I let my eyes come up to hers. “So, what does this mean for us? You and me?”