***
“So…anything interesting happen after I got off the elevator?” Scarlett’s eyes twinkled.
I picked a piece of pineapple from the plate of fresh fruit and shoved the entire thing into my mouth. Pointing, I mumbled as if I couldn’t respond because my mouth was full.
Scarlett laughed. “That’s what I thought. Weston couldn’t keep his eyes off of you all night at the club.”
I sighed. “We definitely have good chemistry.”
“That’s it? Just good chemistry?”
I shook my head. “I honestly have no idea anymore. It started out as purely physical—we were basically hate-fucking, Scarlett. But things have changed. He’s still a pain in my ass, but there’s more to him than he wants people to see. Like, he goes out of his way to make me laugh. He knows my ex was a playwright, so he recites these Shakespearean quotes, only he turns them dirty. Like, It’s better to have been fucked once than never have been fucked at all, or To come or not to come, that is the question. I just know he sits at his desk reading Shakespeare so I’ll crack a little smile. It’s oddly sweet.”
Scarlett swiped a grape and popped it into her mouth. “So he’s handsome, thoughtful, and funny. Sounds awful.”
“He’s also very protective of the people he cares about, though he doesn’t seem to let many people in.”
“Sounds like someone else I know…”
I nodded. “I always thought we were so different. But the more I get to know him, the more I realize we just choose to wear different masks.”
“Wow… That sounds deep and boring as shit.” Scarlett grinned. “And here I thought I was going to get to hear how he banged the shit out of you. But instead, I’m being subjected to feelings… Yuck.”
I tossed a pillow at her and laughed. “Shut up.”
“Seriously, I like this one.”
“It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, as I believe I’ve mentioned, his family and my family have been at war for half a century. But even if we put all of that aside, there’s a million reasons it’s a bad idea. I just came out of a long-term relationship. This thing between me and Weston has rebound written all over it. Come on—I hopped from a nice-looking, safe, stable playwright to the sexy-as-sin bad boy with a ton of baggage. Could it be any more cliché? Not to mention, we both have some pretty big trust issues.” I shook my head. “Weston is like a bright star on a dark night. He can light up the sky, but eventually that fire burns out and all the pieces crumble. Then you’re left in the dark.”
“You do know the sun is a star, too, right? Sometimes we can rely on a star to come back every day.”
I sighed.
“You’ll figure it out,” Scarlett said. “Just promise you won’t let your family or Liam factor into your decision whether Weston might be right for you. Whatever you decide, it should be about you and Weston only.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
After we finished breakfast, Scarlett talked me into going shopping. I went to check in on the construction, since we had crews running even on Sundays. Then I took a quick shower and tied my hair up while she sat in my suite having a third cup of coffee and reading bits and pieces of the news to me aloud. It felt exactly like a Sunday morning back in London. Which made me realize I wasn’t going to lose our friendship because of the distance between us now. Where we were didn’t matter; we’d always find a way. London just wasn’t my home anymore.
“You ready to go shopping?” I asked when I was finally ready, grabbing my purse.
She looked down. “I’m wearing flats. What does that tell you?”
I smiled. While I often wore flats, and even sneakers sometimes, Scarlett almost always wore heels of some sort, unless she was exercising. Which meant we’d both be getting a full cardio workout today as we ran around the City.
Opening the door to my suite, I almost crashed into a bellman who had his knuckles raised to knock on my door. Startled, my hand flew to my chest as I stopped abruptly.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. It’s Walter, right?”
“It is.” He nodded and smiled, then held up a long white flower box. “I was just delivering this. Mr. Lockwood said I should put them in your suite if you weren’t here.”
“Mr. Lockwood asked you to deliver them?”
He nodded. “He was at the front desk when they were delivered a few minutes ago.”
I was surprised, not just that Weston had sent me flowers, but that he’d had a member of the staff deliver them to me. For the most part, we’d been very discreet around the hotel.