Turn Over(54)
“Wow.”
“Wow? I’m coming over. We need to celebrate.”
“What? Now? No.” I panicked.
“Of course now. This is everything we’ve worked for. You couldn’t ask for better recognition than this, babe. You could completely sweep the entire awards show. I think we could have Helena meet us too. I’ll order breakfast catered and we’ll start on your wardrobe along with booking all the radio interviews. We need votes. Every vote. I want a full sweep. Your wardrobe has to be impeccable for every appearance.”
My head spun. I hadn’t slept. Luke was in my bed. And Jake would kill me if he found out.
I coughed into the phone. My voice already had an edge of early-morning raspiness. I could play this off.
“Jake, I feel terrible. My throat is scratchy and I was up most of the night with a fever.” It was a fever, just not the kind that was a result of germs.
“Today? Right now? You’re sick?”
“Jake!” I faked a coughing fit.”
“Sorry. Sorry. Do you have a doctor’s appointment? I’ll get someone to take you.”
I looked at my reflection, letting the robe fall to the side. My nipples were swollen. My neck was red and there were definite thumbprints between my thighs. It all felt divine. The imprint of the man who had changed my life was all over my body.
“No. No.” I hacked again. “I’ve got hot tea and some lozenges. I just need rest. I think a day in bed and I’ll be back to normal tomorrow. And then we can celebrate.”
“What a day to have this happen.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Lex. If you need something text me and I’ll have it delivered. Anything you need at all. Anything.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Jake was a complete germophobe. He wouldn’t come anywhere near my house until he knew it had been disinfected by a professional team.
“And congrats, babe. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” It was one of those moments when I caught a glimpse of what we used to be. The days when Jake and I worked together for the same goal. When all we dreamed about was making it to the CYAs together. That seemed like another life. I didn’t recognize who we were anymore. All we did was fight and threaten each other. Our friendship was toxic.
“Talk to you later.”
“I’ll check on you in a few hours. Get some sleep. I can’t wait to call everyone else.”
I hung up and crept back to bed. Luke hadn’t moved. I placed my phone on silent mode. Jake would be the first call. Once the media had a chance to release the list and the rest of the world woke up to the news my phone would ring constantly. Friends would want to talk to me. Helena would have dress ideas. My old music teacher would try to call.
It was going to be an insane day.
The robe fell from my shoulders and landed on the floor.
Luke’s eyes opened. “Everything ok?” he asked.
My heart fluttered wildly. And my core pulsed.
I nodded. “Everything is fine. Just some news. You can go back to sleep,” I spoke quietly.
He was rugged and tough. He was cocky. He was sexy beyond definition. And his sculpted arms were stretched open for me.
I slid in next to him. He kissed my neck, rolling on top of me. His scruffy cheek was rough against my bare skin. I liked it when he didn’t shave.
I gasped when I felt his shaft pressed along my thigh. My legs fell to the side and with one thrust his was inside me. I sighed, feeling the wholeness of Luke fill me. His hands threaded through mine.
“Like last night, ok?” he whispered.
I nodded. And we spent the morning in bed, loving the hell out of each other.
Luke sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. After we showered and dressed I had spent most of the time on the phone. I had to continue to fake my illness, coughing and sputtering through my calls. So far I had offers for homemade soup, a basket of oranges, and some kind of vaporizing machine that was guaranteed to clear up my sinuses. I had turned all of them down as politely as I could.
“Thank you, thank you.” I was on the phone with the head of my label. He wanted to personally call and congratulate me on receiving the highest number of nominations any of his artists had this year.
“We’re so proud, Lexi. So proud.”
“I hope I can bring some home to the label.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he argued. “The nominations are their own reward.” I knew he was lying. Of course he wanted me to win. He wanted every one of those awards in his trophy room.
“Thanks again.”
“Sure thing. Now rest that voice of yours.”
“I will.”
I hung up and walked to the kitchen. My phone buzzed again. I looked at it regretfully.