But I haven’t been looking at any of the media or the news, because I don’t think that would make me feel good about anything. And the fact that Daniel has been intentionally avoiding that subject confirms it. It’s fine. I’m used to it. I’m sure they’re calling me a gold digger and all kinds of other names. But if Daniel doesn’t care, neither do I. Or at least I try not to.
I roll over, and unlike the last few days when I’ve woken up, the bed is empty. That’s too bad. I’m sure that if Daniel were here, just rolling over would have him pulling me against him and we’d end up entangled for the next hour or so. Instead, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. There are a lot of messages. There have been over the past few days, especially from people that I haven’t heard from in years. Suddenly, being married to a billionaire makes me interesting enough to talk to again.
I don’t answer those calls. If you weren’t willing to be my friend when I was going through the hardest period of my life, then you don’t get to be my friend when things are suddenly looking better. There is a message from Alex’s assistant, confirming that she’ll be over at noon to deliver my wardrobe sketches and talk about them with me. And to possibly start talking about the design of my wedding dress.
There’s a message from Daniel too, and I click it open.
Sorry I’m not there to help you wake up this morning. Duty calls. As much as I wish I could ignore everything and stay in bed with you, people are starting to get mad that I’m ignoring their messages. Call me when you have the chance.
I dial his number and roll over so that I’m on my stomach and hugging a pillow. I can pretend that I’m lying on Daniel’s chest. It won’t work though, because Daniel is a furnace, and I never get enough of his warmth. The phone rings, and after a couple, he picks up. “Hello?”
His voice is so fucking sexy over the phone, deeper than it normally is. I miss it already. I know it’s partially the honeymoon phase, but it’s also just him. “Hi,” I say, my voice still scratchy with sleep.
He chuckles when he hears it. “Good morning, Princess.”
“You told me to call you.”
“I did,” he says. “Besides wanting to hear your voice since I couldn’t be there to wake you up, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“How would you feel about having dinner with my parents tonight?”
My stomach jolts. He’s mentioned a couple times of the last few days that he wants me to meet his parents again. Under normal circumstances, meeting somebody’s parents wouldn’t make me as nervous as this does. “Are you really sure they want to meet me?” I ask. “I can’t imagine that I’m in their good graces. Especially right now.”
“They actually don’t know yet,” he says. “They try not to pay attention too much to gossip columns. More than one misunderstanding about me and my life has come from that, so they generally get their news straight from me. So if they have seen a story about you, they won’t believe it until I tell them.”
“And you don’t think they’re going to be pissed? If you were that mad at me, I can’t even think about how much they feel.”
His voice is gentle. “They will love you because I love you. I swear.”
“Okay,” I say, even if I’m not sure that I believe it. “What’s the dress code for this dinner?”
“Monica,” he says, and I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “How many times I have to tell you that you can wear whatever you want?”
“I know that I can wear whatever I want. But this is your parents and I want to make a good impression. Please just give me some kind of direction. Are we going to their house? Are we going to a fancy restaurant?”
“Their house. It won’t be fully formal, but not fully casual either. Wear something nice that you feel comfortable in, that’s all I ask.”
“Alex will be here in an hour,” I say. “She’ll help me pick out something, I’m sure.”
“Yes, she will. I have to go,” he says. “And I likely won’t be able to make it to pick you up because there’s a lot of things to catch up on. I’ll have a car pick you up to take you to my parents’ house at 6 o’clock, okay?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yes.”
“I wish I was there with you, Princess.”
“Me too.”
The silence hangs in the air, full of our unspoken words. Finally, Daniel says, “Think of me today.” And he hangs up.
As if I’m going to do anything but think about him. Especially when I get up and get myself into the shower. I’m filled with memories of the last shower together, which was yesterday. Daniel ended up on his knees in front of me, making me come over and over again before he took me against the wall. Fuck, I want that again.