Chapter Eighteen
Kristen
Something is hammering my head, while something else is trying to pierce my eardrums. I wince, then squint, trying to find the source of the God-awful noise. Bright spears of light stab my eyeballs, and I squeeze them shut.
Holy mother of God. What’s going on?
“You need to get up—now—if you don’t want to be late for work.”
I gasp at the familiar voice. It’s Tolyan. In my bedroom.
Wait. I’m still in my dress from yesterday. What the hell?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, a bit sullen since Tolyan looks so disgustingly well put together.
“Bringing you something to help you survive the day.” He sighs and mutters, “I’ve never had to do this before.”
I try to get up, and immediately my head feels like it’s going to burst into shards of agony. “Agh. I don’t know how Liza functions after drinking so much.”
“You don’t have Lizochka’s metabolism.”
I turn and moan into my pillow.
“Don’t beat yourself up. Not many people do.”
The smell of coffee hits me, and I can make out a cup sitting on my dresser. “Please.” I waggle my fingers.
“Water and aspirin first. Then you can have it.”
“Seriously?”
“The longer you argue, the longer you go without coffee.”
Sighing, I ease myself very, very slowly into a sitting position and take the glass of water from him. I drink the whole thing as quickly as possible, four aspirins going down along the way.
Coffee denial is a cruel and unusual punishment. But knowing Tolyan, he’d toss the whole pot if I don’t do as he says.
Finally, he hands me the cup. Ah, coffee. How much I love thee. Let me count the ways.
It goes down slightly faster than the water, with me praying the caffeine hits hard and fast because I need to be alert. “What time is it?” I ask, my eyes still barely open. “It feels so early.”
“Six. Not early.”
The warm java starts to make me feel almost human. The aspirin’s probably helping, too. As the gears in my head slowly begin to creak into motion, memories of yesterday evening float up in pieces.
And with them comes the heat of humiliation—a combo deal. The Kristen Special.
I sigh. A spectacular blowup was inevitable. Anyone would have reacted that way after what I went through, so it isn’t technically my fault. And signing up for a bunch of dating apps and stuff makes perfect sense. I promised myself I would move on. So it’s only logical that I do so.
“Are you driving me to work?” I ask, praying Tolyan says yes.
“No.”
“But it’s not like you have anything to do today, right? I mean, you can drop me off at work without having to bother Antoine.”
“No. I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
He gives me a flat, impassive look. “Alphabetizing Lizochka’s new files.”
My jaw drops. “You’re kidding, right?”
He continues to stare.
Maybe he really means it. “Fine. Alphabetize her files.” I stand up. The light isn’t trying to gouge my eyeballs out anymore, and my eardrums seem to still be intact. It’s a win. A good omen.
I shower under extra hot water. I read that heat aids in circulation, and hopefully it will make the coffee and aspirin work their magic faster. I need to be one hundred percent sober and myself to face Antoine after yesterday.
Because I have things to say. Important, critical things. And he better do me at least this one little favor because he owes me that much.
Once again, I take extra care with my appearance. My hair hangs in straight, silky lines, and the teak-colored kohl is artfully smudged around my eyes, making them look larger and darker. My lips glisten bright red from the new tint I bought last week. I look fantastic. Not a hint of last night’s excess.
A tight scarlet silk dress and matching pumps complete my look for the day. I’m going for a “determined with a plan” effect, and I think I’m pulling it off fabulously, even though the dress is extra sexy. Jo has a great eye for that sort of thing.
When I finally make it downstairs, Antoine is seated at the kitchen counter, sans coffee. Tolyan probably made just enough for me and him, and I didn’t think to make a fresh pot for Antoine.
I start to feel just a tad bad, then shake myself mentally. What the hell am I thinking? I no longer care. If he wants coffee, he can damn well make it himself.
Antoine’s expression is guarded as he scrutinizes me. “Morning.” He sounds careful, like he’s approaching a rabid dog. Or a crazy woman who he’d rather cut vital bits of anatomy off than engage with romantically.
“Morning,” I say. See? I can manage careless. And casual. I even flash him a carefree smile for good measure.
I go straight to the door. He stands with a small frown and follows. Our descent to the garage is quiet, although I’m painfully aware of him standing next to me. His body seems to radiate extra heat today. The aftershave on him smells like wood, mint and a hint of citrus. Maybe a mix of lime and orange. It sends warm prickling sensations from my chest all the way to my clit, as usual. But instead of taking a few infinitesimal steps toward him like I normally do, I steel my spine and stay as still as possible, taking shallow breaths through my open lips to avoid letting his scent get to me any more than it already has.
We exit from the elevator together and walk toward the SUV. Before he can reach the passenger door, I open it myself and climb inside. Antoine’s dark brows pinch together for a moment, but he gets in the driver’s seat without commenting and starts driving.
“Kristen, about last night—” he begins.
Humiliation burns, but I’m going to do this even if it makes me spontaneously combust with shame. “I’m glad it happened. I mean, think how awkward and uncomfortable it would be if I kept imposing myself on you. That would be sexual harassment, which I don’t want to do.”
“Kristen—”
“But I also want you to take responsibility for…you know”—I shrug—“making me think there could be more. You knew how I felt about you. Even though you protested you’d never see me romantically, you always acted like you cared…it made me think one day you’d change your mind.”
“Listen, Kri—”
“I did listen last night, so I want you to listen this time.”
“Okay, bu—”
“Are you listening? Is this Antoine listening?”
He shuts his mouth and sighs. “All right. I’m listening.”
“I want you to be a douche to me.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to crush on a guy who’s being nasty to you. So I want you to help me out.” And for the sake of my own sanity and pride, I’d much prefer Antoine do something really gross to turn me off for life. Like…I don’t know. Fart a lot. Or kick a puppy… Maybe throw a pie in my face. “And don’t worry. You won’t have to do all the work. I’ve been setting up dating profiles. I’m going to get myself a new man, one who’ll help me forget all about my ridiculous infatuation.”
Antoine’s knuckles grow white around the steering wheel.
Almost out of habit, I start to say something to cheer him up, then catch myself in time. It would undermine everything if I did that. I pull out my phone and check the dating app notifications.
“Listen, Kristen. Without interrupting,” Antoine says suddenly as the SUV stops behind a BMW convertible. “My family and I are complicated.”
“Everyone’s family is.” I tap on my phone and look at the messages. Some of them are so stupid, they aren’t worth replying to, but one catches my eyes. Nicolas1B. Based on the message, he’s pretty witty. I check his profile. He’s in his late twenties or early thirties, gorgeous with bright hazel eyes and a brilliant smile. Dark brown hair frames a face that is just a little too pretty, but hey, as flaws go… I bet he wouldn’t rather get castrated than marry me—assuming our dates go well enough for us to head in that direction.
Antoine continues, “There’s nothing wrong with you…”
Oh no. He’s not doing this. He isn’t going to be nice and chip away at my resolve to hang on to my humiliation and anger from last night. I need them to be able to get over my feelings for Antoine and move on. Unrequited love freakin’ sucks, and I don’t want to continue bashing my head against a rock, hoping it turns into clouds. And a wedding.
“You know what, Antoine? I’m really tired, so I’m going to get a little shut-eye until we reach the office.” And because the fact that I’m wavering is pissing me off, I message Nicolas1B, If you work downtown, maybe we can have coffee? then close my eyes.
Antoine sighs softly. I want to turn to him and say something comforting, but I don’t. I asked him to be a douche. It’s going to be harder for him to be a dick if I’m nice to him.
It’s about time I grew up.