"Are you ever going to tell me something real about yourself? Or are you just going to sit there and down another shot of whiskey?"

I didn't even dignify him with a response. But I did throw back that shot. 

"Are you okay, Jamie? I know we just met, but I—"

"Can we not do this please? I just really don't feel like talking right now."

I didn't feel like doing anything right now. I wish I could say I didn't want to be here, but that was a lie. It was my best friend's wedding, after all. There was nowhere else I'd rather be. 

"Jamie, I'm sorry if I upset you. Or if your mother upset you. But I promise I'm not—"

"Enough, Ollie." 

I used the table as leverage to get out of my chair. But balance was not my friend anymore. The multiple shots of whiskey and bourbon mixed with the few glasses of wine I consumed was getting to me. It didn't help that I barely ate my dinner, either. 

The room started to spin around me before it and the people in it became a blur. Then I felt the floor disappear beneath my feet. 

"Whoa. Easy there, tiger." 

Ollie. He must have caught me before I completely made a fool out of myself. 

"You're strong," I muttered, clearly delusional. "Strong and sexy." 

Yep. Delusional. 

I felt the deep rumble of his laugh against my cheek. Why did I feel that so strongly? Oh, right. At some point during my delusional episode, I must have rested my head in the hollow of his next. 

I was definitely not thinking clearly. 

"I think that's the first time you've complimented me," Ollie teased as he carried me onto the elevator. "I wish I could have recorded it." 

"Very funny." 

I didn't bother telling him what button to push. Ollie knew I was on the eighth floor with the rest of the wedding party. 

Soft violin music played through the elevator's speaker. I had no idea what song it was, but it combined with the effects of the alcohol was starting to make me sleepy. I couldn't let that happen. I've been embarrassing myself enough tonight. Falling asleep in Ollie's arms wasn't going to be the icing on the cake. 

Speaking of cake...

"Chocolate and vanilla." 

Ollie stepped out of the elevator, leaning his head down a little to hear me better. "What did you say? I didn't catch that." 

There was a beep-beep sound when Ollie used my hotel key card to open the door to my room. Once we were inside, he set me down carefully on my feet. 

"Feeling better?" 

"Chocolate and vanilla," I repeated, ignoring his question. "You smell like chocolate cake. With vanilla frosting." 

Ollie grinned and poked my nose with his finger. "That's two compliments tonight. We should get you drunk more often. Makes you much more enjoyable." 

I knew his words would have pissed me off if I wasn't drunk off my ass, but I was. So instead of responding with my usual smartass retort, I went a different route. 

"You said you wanted to know something real about me..."

"Jamie you don't have to. It's fine. I'm sorry I pushed you before." 

Great. Now he sounded caring and concerned again. Sober me wouldn't like that. But I wasn't sober right now. At all. 

"Jamie is a nickname," I whispered. When he frowned I added, "My real name...is Guinevere."

"Guinevere." His eyes slid shut when he said my name—as if he were tasting the syllables on his lips. "It suits you." 

"I hate it, actually. Except when you say it."

"Ma'am? Ma'am, did you hear me?" 

Suddenly the old, burly clerk in front of me came back into view. He had a beer belly that was barely hidden behind his red polo and khaki pants. His name tag read JERRY followed by EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH. 

"Please don't call me ma'am," I bit out. "I feel old enough already." 

Jerry rubbed the top of his bald head. "Uh, sorry. Anyway, you want me to change the number, right?" He glanced at my cell phone he was holding. "Changing a number isn't easy. What is it? Crazy boyfriend?" 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Jerry, it's been a very, very long few months. I don't care if you have to close my damn account and start me over with a new one. I don't care if I need a new cellphone that costs more than my rent. I. Need. A. New. Number." 

Jerry's eyes widened slightly. I also noticed I attracted the attention of two other clerks and the customers they were helping. 

Oops. 

I looked back at Jerry with a forced smile.

"Let's start over. My mother has made it her mission to give my number to any man she thinks would make me a good husband. I'm tired of getting phone stalked by all these weirdos who don't know the difference between their ass and their elbow." Deep inhale. Deep exhale. "Now, here I am. So can you please get me a new number? I would really like to not freak out every time the damn thing rings." 

"Yes ma'am—I mean, shit. Sure thing. I'll get right on it." 

Mr. Employee of the Month walked off with my cell phone and info to hopefully get this taken care of. I needed it taken care of. I had fifteen calls from eight different numbers today. I didn't even want to get into the text messages. Most were casual—introducing themselves with their name and informing me that my mom gave them my number. 

Then there were others that weren't so formal. Crude innuendos from the guys that just wanted to get an all access pass to my pants. That was the main reason I decided to come here. Every time I read one of those messages, I felt gross. Like I needed a shower.

The only guy I kinda sorta didn't mind getting texts from was on another continent right now.

"Stop thinking about him," I muttered to myself. 

The last time I saw him was the morning after Harper's wedding. When he left my hotel room. 

Fuck. I can't believe I let that shit happen. What the hell had I been thinking? Drunk or not, I should have kept my guard up. Way up. Like, as high as the Empire State Building. 

Maybe even higher. 

Swearing off men after Adam was easy. I never had any interest or urge to get back on the dating horse. I didn't care that it had been forever since I had sex.

But there was something about Ollie. I didn't know what it was, but something about him kept getting under my skin. 

Thank God he went to Europe, I thought to myself. 

We promised each other that there would be no contact after he left. No texts, no calls, no letters. Nothing. 

I kept that promise. 

Ollie didn't. 

Three texts. Two calls. One letter. 

I had glanced over the texts. I ignored the calls. And I didn't open the letter. 

There was no point. There was too much I needed to figure out. Too much personal shit in my head that I needed to work through. Then there was my mom. According to her last checkup, she was still in remission. But it felt like the other shoe was about to drop. 

There was a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, warning me to be cautions. It felt like something was going to happen. I just didn't know if that feeling was directed towards my mom or to one of my closest friends. 

Dear God...what if it was about little Nate? 

Don't think like that. 

I tried not to. But when you've been served shit-sandwiches your whole life, it was hard to be Ms. Thinks on the Brightside. There was a reason Lanie always called me Debbie Downer. But I didn't want to be Debbie anymore. I wanted to look forward to the same things my friends looked forward to. 

Meeting guys. Falling in love. That feeling when you meet someone in a coffee shop and you're spiraling out of control. Then they offer to do you some crazy favor—like being your fake boyfriend to a wedding to get your mom off your back. 

Way to stop thinking about him, Jamie. 

I ran my hand through my hair, getting even more frustrated when my fingers got tangled in my thick red curls. Maybe I should cut it all off. 

No, I couldn't do that. My mother would kill me. 

Suddenly Jerry appeared again, carrying my cellphone in one hand, and some paperwork in the other. 

"How'd it go?" I asked a little too eagerly. 

He sat both the papers and my phone on the glass counter top. 

"All done. You got a fresh new contract with a new number. No connections to the old one." 

"And I'm able to use the same phone?" 

"Yep," he nodded, picking up the papers and holding them out to me. "Everything went smoothly. Here's all the info." 

Without sparing a glance, I took the papers and stuffed them into my purse. I grabbed my phone from him and slipped it into my back pocket. 

"Thank you so much for this. I really appreciate it." 

He waved a hand at me as I turned and started for the exit. 

"Don't mention it," he called. 

Without looking back I left the store and bee-lined it to the subway. Loud screeching and a rumbling beneath my feet as I descended the stairs told me I was right on time. I swiped my Metro Card, pushing my body through the turnstile in a hurry so I wouldn't miss it. 

Thankfully there weren't many people waiting and I made it into the train car in plenty of tome. I exhaled a heavy sigh as I plopped myself into one of the empty seats. 

Once the train started moving I looked down at my phone. Everything looked the same. I opened my contact list and saw my new number at the top. Hopefully this would put an end to my cellular stalking. 

I scrolled through the list of contacts until I got to the letter 'O'. Yeah, I was looking for his name. What the hell was wrong with me? 

Before I could answer my own question, I clicked on his name. The three text messages he sent me before were still there. This time I read them—and it was the last one that had my lips parting on a gasp. 

"Things are always better in the morning." 

It was a quote. Not just any quote, but a quote from my favorite book. 

That wasn't the worst part, though. The worst part was that I knew exactly what Ollie was referring to. 

***

Hey guys! I have to say...I LOVE writing chapters about Ollie and Jamie! I CANNOT wait for their book! 

xoxo 

🖤