25. Wyn

"Holy shit," I say, unable to believe my eyes. "Did you go for a peel without me?" I release Bridget from the bear hug I have her in and inspect her skin critically. It's official. She's glowing. Her skin is red-carpet ready. It looks like porcelain lit from within. "Lactic acid or glycolic?" I demand.

"No! Of course not. I would never. I mean, I did do a little home thing. You know, one of those overnight exfoliant things. That, that…"

I gasp, hand clamped over my mouth when it hits me. "Bridget Katherine Vivien Leigh Hepburn. You had sex!"

"No!" she cries. "I didn't, I-I… No. Maybe a little, but no. No. It was nothing. It was stupid. It was one time, and believe me, it's never, ever happening again." With that, she takes my hands in hers and starts bouncing around the room. "Hawaii! The wedding! Tell me everything."

Her attempt to distract me is flagrant and, it pains me to admit, effective.

We throw ourselves onto the sofa in a tangle of arms and legs, and I begin flicking through a carefully curated album of wedding photos that just so happens to not include a single clear picture of Derek MacAvoy.

If I thought work sucked before Hawaii, God, was I wrong. It's worse now. Way worse. In addition to the agony of having to take down my mood boards and toss the leftover wedding stationery, I'm bored out of my mind. There isn't nearly enough to do now that I only have one full-time job to deal with.

Derek's out with a client for lunch, so I'm all alone on this big-ass white marble floor. I don't even have to plan a meal for him today. Or serve it to him. I tidy my desk and repack the soft drinks, arranging them alphabetically rather than by color. I hate it as soon as I'm finished, so take them all out and put them back as they originally were.

When I'm done with that, I take out my wallet, which is bulging so much I can barely fold it closed, and count my money. It's a lot. It makes me feel funny. Strangely turned on and ashamed at the same time. Weirdly, I kind of like it. I arrange the bills by dollar amount and stuff them back into my wallet. It's the most cash I've ever had on me. It probably isn't even safe to carry this much on my person. It probably makes me a target for a violent crime or something.

Hmm, wonder if I should head to Rodeo Drive and see if I can find a way to lessen the risk to my safety?

I mean, buying myself something pretty always boosts my mood.

Derek breezes in a few hours later, heads straight to his office, and switches the glass window that separates us from clear to opaque.