“Ooh…got any caviar?”
She really was drunk if she actually thought straight vodka sounded good after all that wine and cheese. All I did was give her a cold stare.
She rolled her eyes. “Party pooper.” She started to walk back, barefoot and somewhat stumbling. “Want to join us?”
“Not even a little.”
“Oh, come on.” She got the door open and turned back around. “Anna is a super-cool chick. She’s sooo hot too.”
“I’m aware.”
“Oh my god, you love her!” She walked out the door and shut it behind her, her loud voice audible behind her. “Anna, my brother wants to sex you up.” The other door slammed behind her, and then their laughter was concealed in Annabella’s bedroom.
I dragged my hand down my face, relieved that interaction hadn’t lasted any longer than necessary. I’d just walked in the door, hadn’t showered, and hadn’t even had a goddamn drink. But I suspected Catalina wouldn’t bother me again because she was fighting the clock after all that booze. She would collapse on the bed within the hour.
Problem solved.
I faced the mirror as I adjusted my tie. I was in a gray suit, ready to head to the bank and complete another day’s worth of bullshit. It was another sunny day, another warm kiss of spring.
The door opened without a knock.
Catalina stepped inside in the same pink dress she’d worn the night before, makeup gone from her face and her hair messy from sleeping off her intoxication. She dragged her fingers down the side of her face, getting the sleep from her eyes as she groaned.
“Don’t expect me to feel bad for you.”
She yawned and then came farther into the room. “You have aspirin or something?”
“I have everything, Catalina.”
“Then give me the good shit.” She fell into a chair at my table, sitting directly in the sunlight.
I opened my nightstand and pulled out a few tablets and then poured her a mug of coffee. I put the pills and beverage in front of her. “Caffeine will help your headache.”
She swallowed the pills dry and then sipped her coffee.
I pulled on my shoes then sat in the chair across from her, feeling too guilty to leave her alone. I should pull on my jacket and head to work, but my DNA was programmed to care for this woman even when I didn’t want to. I stared at her in the sunlight, seeing the bits of dust floating in the air around her. The heat was warm on the fabric of my clothes, and it made her brown hair have a distinct red cast to it because she dyed her hair. She was a beautiful woman, inheriting our mother’s looks to where she looked like her sister rather than her daughter. “You’re gonna feel like shit the rest of the day. But drink lots of water, and you’ll be as good as new tomorrow.”
“Damien, this isn’t my first hangover.” She took a sip of her coffee then rubbed her left eye, like that was the area where her migraine was the most prominent. “I’ve probably had more of them than you.”
“Because I don’t get hangovers, no matter how much I drink.”
“Congratulations,” she said sarcastically. “Your body is seventy percent booze. Not seventy percent water.” She drank more of her coffee, the steam rising above her face and drifting to the ceiling.
“Seemed like you guys had fun.”
“Oh, we did. Just can’t totally remember how much fun we had…”
“How was the vodka I gave you?”
“Don’t remember that either.”
“Then it’s a good thing the bottle actually had water in it.”
She chuckled before she took another drink. “Geez, I was stupid drunk.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“When I woke up, Anna was still passed out. I think she drank more than I did.”
And I couldn’t even take advantage of her. “Sounds like you two have become good friends.”
“Definitely.” Her painted nails rested against the white mug, and she gently tapped the ceramic surface before she lifted her gaze to look at me. “So, what’s the story with you and her?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Isn’t that what women did? Shared every little detail?
“She told me she was recently divorced and she shouldn’t have married him in the first place. She’s staying with you now for protection. But she didn’t say much about you, specifically. I thought I would just ask you.”
“I don’t ask about your boyfriends.”
“So, she’s your girlfriend, then?” she asked, a victorious look on her face.
I’d walked right into that, hadn’t I? “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t like that term.”
“Then what is she?”
I shrugged. “Not sure.”
“Why does she sleep in a different room?”
Catalina wasn’t going to let this go until she dragged everything out. I would ignore her interrogation, but if they were going to be friends, it was bound to come up anyway. “She just got divorced. She doesn’t want to rush into anything.”