Page 197 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Based on what I’ve heard about your campaign, uh . . . yeah.”
She laughed as we hit the ground floor and the elevator doors opened. “You’re so naïve, Henry. While you’ve been working in your little cubicle, staring at your annoyingly adorable picture of Rosie, and talking to douche-bag Freddy, I’ve been hosting lunches with the Legacy executives. It’s not always about the campaign, but about who will lead the campaign and who meshes well with the customer.” She pressed my chest with her nail and then took off. “See you tomorrow, Henry. Can’t wait for you to meet some of my friends at Legacy.” She walked backward while she continued to talk. “Oh, and if you change your mind on our relationship, let me know. Maybe I can convince the board to throw you a bone, and you can be my assistant.”
A devious smile was plastered on her face as she walked out of the building.
Motherfucker!
I ran my hand over my face, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of me. I tried to tell myself not to let her get in my head, that she was just throwing me off my game—job well done.
She had nothing. Her campaign wasn’t nearly as clean-cut and refined as mine. I had statistics to back up my presentation; I had proof in the pudding that my campaign was the clear-cut choice.
But there was that annoying voice in the back of my head, that voice of self-doubt that told me maybe I didn’t have it all figured out. Maybe the past month had been a waste of time, spending long nights at the office when I could have been wining and dining the clients.
Shit.
I’d never thought about a working relationship with them. I’d assumed I was a likeable human who could get along with any client, a little self-absorbed, yes, but I hadn’t had any complaints yet.
Work weighed heavily on me as I faltered in the entryway of my office building. I looked at the elevators and contemplated going back to my cube to double-check everything. Even though the thought of going to my cube crossed my mind, I knew it was useless. Tomorrow was the reveal; there was nothing else I could do. The decision was in the board’s and Legacy’s hands now.
The walk home was lonely. I kept kicking myself in the ass for not thinking about meeting with the clients more. What the hell had I been thinking?
Clearly, I hadn’t been. I’d been off my game, and there was only one reason: Rosie.
She’d changed me, helped me relax, allowed me to love so deeply, and I’d become lost in the world we were living in. There was no doubt in my mind I had been distracted, especially by the sex.
Sex.Fuck did I miss it.
I missed getting lost in Rosie’s scent, in her touch, in the sexy little sound she made when she came.
I wasn’t ready to have sex with her until she saw a doctor, though. I didn’t want to chance anything. I just needed this whole campaign to be over so I could put my sole focus on my girl. One more fucking day and this would all be over.I’d seen the hurt in her eyes when I’d asked for a week to sort things out.God, she knew me better than to think it was about us. But how bleak she’d looked. I wanted this behind us so we could move forward. I loved her, and I wantedusback.
* * *
“Drop it. I’m not kidding,” Rosie shouted, as I walked in the apartment.
She was holding a rolling pin in one hand, making whacking gestures, and a colander in the other. She was wearing one of my T-shirts and her hair looked like it shook strands with an electrical outlet. Her bare feet bounced up and down on the hardwood floor while she made scooping motions with the colander.
“You little spikey-dicked bastard. Give me the penis crown and I won’t have to try to strain you through this colander.”
“What’s going on, love?” I asked, shutting the door and startling her.
She clenched her behind from the sound of the door closing and then turned in my direction. She had mascara dripping down her cheeks and her eyes were beet red. My heart sunk.
“What’s going on?” she screamed, waving the rolling pin in the air. “What’s going on is that hairy monster over there won’t give me the penis crown. He thinks he won it during our test drive of pin the penis on Derk, but I tried to tell him there was no crown prize. He begs to differ. Now he’s just rubbing his win in my face by parading around with it. How could I lose to a cat? I should know where a penis goes.”
Confused, I looked at the wall and saw a life-sized picture of Derk hung up by tacks. There was a scratch mark where Derk’s crotch was—my guess was that was Sir Licks-a-Lot’s placement, and then there was a cutout penis stuck near Derk’s nipple.
“Don’t judge me. I spun around too many times. Maybe if we actually had sex every once in a while, I might know where a penis actually goes. This is all your fault.” She pointed the rolling pin at me. “If you actually drained your vein in me—”
“Don’t say that.” I shook my head.
“Oh, was that too crude for you?” She was certifiable right now. I reminded myself why she was losing it. She was stressed from the party; she wasmost likelyhorny . . . she was pregnant.
She was pregnant, she was pregnant, she was pregnant.
Instead of arguing with her, I set my bag and suit jacket down and walked carefully over to Sir Licks-a-Lot, who started purring at my approach. He leapt into the air, penis crown still in his mouth, and landed in my arms. I took the crown from him and allowed him to rub his head against my five o’clock shadow. I glanced at Rosie, whose mouth was wide open in a look of complete disbelief.
She crossed her hands over her chest and started tapping her toe on the ground. “Oh, so you’re making out with the cat now? Fantastic.”
