The Next Mrs Russo

I bite my lip. I honestly don’t know why I dialed Beatrice’s number, only that something compelled me to call her the second that Miller left for the day. Honestly, it’s her fault. Ever since she made that comment about my lack of decisiveness, I haven’t been able to stop seeing it in myself. Even my internal meltdown about what I am to Warren earlier has me on edge.

I am indecisive.

I question everything.

I’m the absolute worst.

What does it matter if we’re just fooling around in a fake relationship together? It’s not like I can expect anything else. So why am I devoting an ounce of brainpower to it?

“What about Gary, dear? I do have other clients, you know.”

I try not to sigh. “You do?”

“Not at exactly this moment, but yes, in general. And I have other things I’d like to be doing. So what’s the problem with Gary?”

The truth is, Gary’s been great ever since I switched him to wet food. He’s a regular charmer whenever Warren’s around. And if I’m in a different room than Warren, he’ll pad over there so that I follow him so that Warren and I are together, even if we’re not talking. And he loved Bethany. The little chonk monster just lay right on her lap and purred like he was the sweetest thing on the planet. All because of some wet food, I guess.

“I—”

“Oh, no,” Beatrice interjects. “This isn’t about the cat at all, is it? This is about you. Dear, you know I specialize in the animal realm.”

“But you knew about me,” I object. “You knew I was indecisive. And now I just need to know if what I think is happening is actually happening. Or if it’s all in my head. And even if it’s not in my head, I’m totally wrong for him. He’ll dump me the second he finds out about my past. And that’s if we’re actually together. And—”

“I only mentioned you before because Gary mentioned you,” Beatrice says. “I told you, I’ve sworn off humans. Too messy. And it wouldn’t matter what I told you anyway.”

“But I would! I swear it would. And I’m not messy. I’m clean.”

Beatrice snorts. “The answers are all within you, my dear. You simply need to learn it for yourself. Now, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a call with a woman about her pet rabbit. Ta-ta!”

And she’s gone.

Also, did she just Wizard of Oz me? I mock-mumble to myself about the power being within me all the way back to the mansion.

Fine, yes, I clicked my sneakers together too, just in case.

Beatrice could be Glinda the Good Witch, you never know.

Still, my own failures are weighing heavy in my mind. And I should’ve known better than to try to use a pet psychic, I guess. I was just so wound up about the letter from New York. And the flowers. What the hell do flowers mean? Sure, you can send flowers as a friendly gesture, but not if you’re also having sex with the person you’re sending flowers to. Surely that’s a rule, or at the very least common sense.

Does he want to make this… real?

He might.

Until he finds out the truth.

Fuck.

I just need to extricate myself. I don’t want to become a problem for Warren, after all. I just need to keep my distance. Maybe tone down the sex.

I head straight for my bathroom. I need to douse myself in the hottest water possible. No, actually, the coldest. I need a shower reality check.

Except there he is. Of course.

And damn if he doesn’t look good, standing in front of me in an old pair of sweatpants, the kind that hang just a little too low on the hips and make a girl think a little too much about what’s underneath them. What a delicious human. Who gave him permission to be that hot? Seriously.

“Well, well, well,” he says, as he walks up to me. “Look who’s finally home.”

He’s wearing a flannel robe over the sweats. An old, worn, flannel robe that should be the least sexy thing in the world but instead it drives me wild in some weird way. Like I’ve got a flannel robe fetish, as long as Warren is the one wearing it. The robe is hanging open and he’s shirtless beneath and based on his damp hair he just got out of the shower and—

I need to back away. End this right now.

Focus on the plumbing. Focus on…

His mouth.

The way he’s dipping his head towards me while lifting my chin with his finger.

The way he kisses me like he’s breathing life back into me.

The swipe of his tongue across mine.

It’s not my fault that just one kiss from this man makes me forget my good intentions.

A girl can’t be held responsible for anything she does after a kiss like this.