“No, sir.” She looked confused. “It doesn’t typically rain indoors.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” I picked up the pillow and tossed it to her. “Can you take this down with you to the laundry? I think it got rained on.”
“You were crying, sir.”
“So, you agree that it was raining.” I picked up my phone, and she rolled her eyes. I waited for the door to close before scrolling down to Penelope’s name.
I was tempted to hit call, but I held back.
Since I knew her down to her marrow, I was well aware that there was no need to initiate any conversations. At some point today, she would start calling to leave angry breakup voicemails.
Despite all the lessons I’d taught her over the years, she still had an issue mastering that particular one.
Before I could consider a better move, the doorbell sounded.
“I’m coming, Taylor.” I groaned, knowing she’d locked herself out again. I swung the door and found myself face to face with Travis instead.
“Damn,” he said. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you, Travis. You looked like shit not too long ago.”
“You’re welcome. Who died?”
“No one.” I ushered him inside. “I thought you were my housekeeper.”
“Oh. I just ran into her on the elevator.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Seriously. Who died? Tell me.”
“No one. I broke up with the woman I was seeing.”
“How shocking.” He laughed, but I didn’t join in like usual. It took him a while to realize there was nothing funny about this. “Have you been fucking crying?”
“No. Taylor used some new cleaning supplies that I’m allergic to, that’s all.”
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
Not with you. “Not really.” I walked over to my liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of vodka.
I needed to change the subject. Fast.
“Is your agent working on a new date for the trilogy yet?” I asked.
“After all the drug tests come back.” He leaned against the bar. “You’re scaring me, man. I’m not used to you showing any emotion when it comes to supermodels like Anya Sterling.”
“Anya Sterling?”
“Yeah. That’s who you broke up with, right?”
“Sure.” I didn’t feel like correcting him. The last time I saw Anya was sometime last week. She’d drunkenly fallen out of a damn cab, and she was on the verge of embarrassing herself. I’d helped her up to her suite and waited in the hallway until her manager arrived.
“I swear, you and Penelope have the worst luck when it comes to the opposite sex.” He shook his head. “I could barely talk to her yesterday. She was sobbing out of control over this last guy. So much for him being good for her, you know?
What? My chest twinged in guilt. “What did she say about him?”
“I don’t recall.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t translate through her tears.”
“Could you please try to recall?”
“Why?” He tapped his fingers against the countertop. “Shouldn’t you already know this? Surely she’s told you more than me.”
“That’s usually how it goes …”
“Yeah, it is,” he said. “Are you two upset with each other or something?”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“Feels like forever ago.”
“And what was your girlfriend’s real name?”
“Pen—” I caught myself. “You don’t know her.”
“Oh, I think I do.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s Penelope, isn’t it?”
I didn’t respond, didn’t react. This was a far cry from how I wanted this scene with him to play out, but the film was already down to its final frame.
“You’ve been fucking my sister behind my back?”
“No, I’ve been dating your sister behind your back,” I said. “Big difference.”
“Were you ‘dating’ her in Vegas? When that other woman was screaming your name in your room hours before my fight?”
“There was no other woman,” I said deadpan. “It’s just been your sister.”
“So, now you’re going to lie to me?”
“Travis …” I didn’t have time for this right now. “We need to do this some other day. I’m going through some emotional shit, and no offense, but you’re not the guy I want to talk to about it.”
“When were you planning to ask if dating my sister was okay?”
“I wasn’t planning to ask you shit,” I said. “I was going to tell you a few weeks from now, and you were going to deal with it.”
“Deal with it?” He glared at me. “Is that what you just said to me?”
“There’s not an echo in this room.”
“When did you start grooming her then?” His face reddened.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“She was a fucking minor when I—” He shook his head. “Did you sleep with Penelope when I left her with you in Seattle?”
You’ve officially lost your goddamn mind. I shrugged. “Can we talk about this when you get that murderous look out of your eyes? Preferably like adults?”
“Of course, we can.” His left fist hit my eye first.
Then his right.
Caught off guard, I stumbled backward and grabbed onto the counter.