Page 226 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Wanting to ease my mind, I said, “I don’t think Henry would do that. He’s not that kind of guy.”
“Oh, he isn’t? Wasn’t he the one who got back together with Tasha after you two had sex?”
Once again, it didn’t even occur to me that he would do something like thatagain. He was upset at me then . . . he thought I was moving on, so he moved on as well.
“And here I thought he was terminally ill. He’s probably shacking up with Tasha again. I’m so stupid. I pushed him right into her arms.”
“Hold on.” Delaney held up her hand. “Let’s pause for a second. I want to get off this floor, and I need some coffee before we get into conversations about terminally ill boyfriends. Help me up.”
The next ten minutes were spent peeling Delaney off the ground, washing her face, and brewing some coffee. I didn’t have any; I opted for tea instead. Caffeine and all. I was trying to be a good vessel for the growing fetus, even though at times it earned the name Beelzebub.
Once we were seated at her dining room table, she asked, “So, Henry is terminally ill?”
“What?” Derk asked, walking out of the bedroom and rubbing his eyes. His hair was sticking up, and he looked just as bad as Delaney. I knew it wasn’t from getting drunk, but most likely from having to take care of his very drunk fiancée last night. Both of them luckily took the day off work. “Henry is sick?”
“Maybe, that or he’s back with Tasha.”
Derk groaned. “He’s not back with Tasha.”
Delaney turned to him. “How do you know that? How do you know he didn’t waltz on over to her house like a chipper Leonardo DiCaprio in that popular meme we always see, and fuck her against the wall?”
“Because, he’s not that kind of guy, and he loves Rosie.”
“He did it the first time they had sex.”
“Because she mentioned a date with a guy when the condom they used was still warm. And he didn’t even have sex with Tasha then.” Derk pointed at me.
Guilt washed through me.
“He’s got you there.” Delaney brought the cup to her mouth and turned back toward me.
“Why do you think he’s ill?” Derk asked, steering the conversation away from insanity.
“It’s all I can come up with as to why he doesn’t want to be with me, but is still sweet.”
Derk sat next to Delaney and shared her coffee, one hand on her thigh. “Did he actually say he didn’t want to be with you? That he didn’t want to be your boyfriend?”
“Not that kind ofbewith me. I mean in the sexual way. He refused to put his hand down my pants.”
“Maybe because you talked about how your vagina was purple for so long; shit like that is not appealing to men,” Delaney added. “Purple is too close to the color blue, and I think we all know what a blue waffle is . . .”
Everyone ignored Delaney’s comment. It was too early to get into blue waffle talk.
“Has he talked to you?” I asked Derk, whose eyes immediately grew wide.
Bingo.
“He has talked to you.” I pointed at Derk, who was trying to hide his face. Delaney clued in and forced him to look at me.
“What are you not telling her? Speak, my human sex toy, or you can kiss any sex we might have leading up to the wedding goodbye.”
“I know he’s concerned about you, that’s all.”
“Concerned about me? Why? Because he’s going to go back with Tasha and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings?” I was ninety-five percent sure that wasn’t true, but I wanted to press Derk’s buttons.
“For fuck’s sake, drop the Tasha thing. Nothing is going on between them and nothing ever will happen between them.”
“Then tell me what he said,” I demanded, pounding my fist on the table.
