“You’re sinking into swamps of sadness.”
I screwed up my forehead. “I am not.”
“The chasm of regret and despair.”
“Are these actual places to you? Do you go to these places when I’m not here?”
She took my wrists and pulled me to my feet. “Come on, shower, then bed. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one night.”
I swayed slightly as she capped the bottle. “Don’t limit me. You can never have too much excitement.”
She patted me sympathetically on the cheek. “You have a delicate system when it comes to these sorts of things. Now, come on. Into the shower.”
My eyes grew abruptly heavy with fatigue, and I glanced longingly at my room. “No, bed first. I’ll shower in the morning.”
She gave me a calculating stare. “If you breathe in all those chemicals in your hair overnight, it’ll give your kids gills.”
My eyes widened for a moment at the wondrous possibilities. Then I decided she was right and trudged off obediently to the bathroom. I flicked on the water and st
ared into the mirror as it slowly clouded with steam. A pale, teary face stared back at me. Following a weird compulsion, I forced my features into a watery smile.
I did have an amazing time tonight. Scary, breathless, precarious, amazing. Everything traumatizing was due one hundred percent to me. And everything good was due one hundred percent to Marcus.
I remembered the look on his face as he tossed me up into the air. A carefree delight that grew heated when he lowered me slowly to the floor.
A belated shiver ran up my calves, and I suddenly wondered if Amanda was right. Did my “single girl in the big city” programming kick in too fast and I jumped the gun?
What was he going to propose? Would I forever be haunted by the question?
A thick cloud of steam wafted over the glass, and the girl vanished from sight. My shoulders fell with a little sigh as I climbed into the warm water. No point in wondering about that now. The boy, the girl, the night of fantastical impossibilities...all that was over.
It was time to wake up.
Chapter 8
“It’s time to wake up!”
I opened my eyes to see a strange creature hovering over me. Half of Amanda’s hair was set in foam curlers while the other half hung limply to the side. In one hand, she held a long wooden spoon dripping with runny eggs, and in the other she brandished my alarm clock.
“You are going to be late again. You silly, irresponsible girl. You are going to be late.”
It sounded tired. I wondered how long it had been chanting.
She smacked it silent, a manic look on her face. “Guess what, dumbass, you’re late for work.”
“You definitely have anger management issues, missy,” I said.
She glared. “Get up! C’mon. You need to get out of here!”
I dodged a droplet of yolk, not quite understanding her frenzy as I rolled to my feet. “You know, you’re supposed to cook that. Not just carry it around with you.”
“Oh, thank you, genius. Well, I would be cooking it if you hadn’t overslept and forced me to abandon my post.” She scurried down the hall to the kitchen. “Barry’s coming for breakfast.”
Barry. The latest in a series of one-woman emasculations by Amanda Gates.
I pulled on my scrubs with a frown. “I thought that was one of those things you offered to be charming but it was never actually going to happen.”
“That’s what I thought too.” She sounded furious. “But lo and behold, I get a call this morning, and guess who’s on his way over?”