24. Alice

ALICE

T he door shuts behind Michael with a soft click, and I swear I feel it in my bones.

What just happened?

With my back still against the wall, I stare at the floor in front of me.

Did he…?

Did we…?

And then did he… just leave?

There’s a weird twisting in my chest.

Breathe, Alice. Just take a breath.

My lungs fill, and I close my eyes.

It’s all okay. This is all totally okay.

The cool air of the room drifts over my skin, and I’m reminded of my destroyed shirt, the literal proof of what just occurred between us.

In a state of semi-numbness, I shuffle to my suitcase and find my pair of flannel pajamas.

I’m usually a very meticulous person, but instead of carefully removing and folding my dirty clothes, I strip them off and drop them on the floor.

I don’t know how to feel about what just happened. I don’t even know what part to focus on. The fact that Michael, my Michael , came to my hotel room to apologize for being his usual self on his show. The fact he kissed me. The fact he begged my forgiveness, then hoisted my entire weight on his shoulders so he could plant his face in my vagina.

With a shiver, I yank on the pants, then button up the loose-fitting shirt as I replay Michael’s words.

I can’t.

I’ve done too much already.

That twisting feeling amplifies until the center of my chest hurts.

It’s not like that , he said.

I don’t mean it like that, he repeated.

But how else could he mean it? There’s not really a nice way to tell someone that giving them an orgasm was a mistake.

Maybe he would’ve said more, but then he got that phone call. At night. And he seemed determined to answer it.

I know more than I should know about Michael Kesso, but maybe he has a secret girlfriend. Lover. Dear god, maybe he has a wife.

I shake my head at the thought.

No. He doesn’t have a wife. No way would he be able to do that without the press knowing. Secret short-term girlfriend, maybe. But not something like that.

This isn’t over, Alice. This just can’t happen right now. Tell me you understand.

I told him that I understood. But I don’t. What’s not over? The show? Us fooling around? Honestly, I have so little idea about what might be going on in his head, it’s alarming. I thought I knew everything there was to know about him.

My inner voice snorts at me. You didn’t know what his kisses tasted like.

A knock at the door startles me so bad I let out a little scream.

Did he come back?

“Uh, room service,” the voice tentatively says from the other side of the door. A voice that is definitely not Michael’s.

Surprised I can still feel embarrassed after everything I’ve been through today, I hurry to the door and take the covered tray from the server. Giving them a bigger tip than I can afford, I hope the extra cash will make up for my frazzled state.

Dropping down onto my bed with my burger on my lap, I think about the last thing Michael said and wonder how many ways I can interpret tonight’s encounter before I have to see him again tomorrow.

Sweet dreams, Baby Cakes.

Yeah, right.