She’d scrubbed off Mrs. Michaelson’s makeup and brushed out Mrs. Michaelson’s curls. She’d washed away the cover—the lie—she had built for herself and she wasn’t sure she liked the woman who was left.
“What were you doing in Paris?” she asked the reflection.
The reflection didn’t answer back.
So she had no choice but to put on Mrs. Michaelson’s nightgown . . . Which Mrs. Michaelson had planned to wear on her wedding night . . . Which meant it wasn’t much of a nightgown. But surely it wouldn’t be that bad, would it?
She was wrong.
It was worse.
So, so, so much worse.
Because the nightie was very short and very sheer. Too sheer, really. So sheer it might as well have not existed at all. At least it came with a robe, she told herself. But the robe was . . . yup . . . also incredibly sheer, so she stood there, fully clothed and extremely naked and told herself not to panic.
She’d just crack open the door and ask Sawyer for a T-shirt or something. But when she peeked into the room, it was empty.
The only light came from the tiny sconces by the bed, but thanks to the nine million mirrors, it looked like the room was full of fireflies. And it was gorgeous.
“Hi.” She heard his voice at the same time she felt a gust of cold wind and saw the curtains billow out.
Sawyer. Balcony. Doors. Nightie. Nipples! So many words filled her （admittedly empty） brain at the same time that she thought she might black out from the overload.
“I . . . What were you doing out there?” she asked, but he wasn’t listening—she was pretty sure because he wasn’t looking at her eyes, or her lips. And her brain shouted nipples again. “Honeymoon!” she said a little too sharply then dove for the big, fluffy robe that had been hung on a hook by the bed.
The bed that was currently covered in . . .
“Are those . . .”
“Rose petals?” He smacked his lips and nodded. “Yes, yes they are. Because . . . honeymoon.”
“Yes, honeymoon. Very, um, romantic.”
“Yes.”
“Except no,” she said for reasons she couldn’t start to name. And then she named them. “What if you’re allergic?”
“Right?” he exclaimed. “And they just get everywhere . . .”
“And won’t they stain the sheets? And . . .” She trailed off as she looked between the bed half covered with rose petals and the sliding door . . . and him. “Wait. Were you tossing rose petals overboard?”
“No. Yes.” He had that little boy look on his hot guy face again. “I panicked, okay?”
“You panicked?”
“No.”
She wanted to laugh. Was he blushing? It was hard to tell between the dim room and the five o’clock shadow. “You have multiple firearms, and rose petals scared you?”
He grimaced and grabbed a blanket from the bed, dragged it to the balcony and tossed the remaining petals overboard.
When he came back, she had a full-on smirk. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. “You were scared!”
“This is my first fake honeymoon, okay?” He actually pouted as he closed and locked the door.
“Well, at least you’re mostly clothed.” She tried to laugh, but he didn’t make a sound. He just stood there, a dark look on his face as his gaze slid from her eyes to her lips to her nearly nonexistent nightie and then landed on the bed. The one bed. And leave it to her brain to yell nipples again for good measure.
She grabbed a pillow and held it in front of herself and tried to keep her voice nice and even. “So there’s only one bed.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound bothered by that fact, probably because they’d been in the suite for hours and he’d done this math ages ago.
“So obviously we’re in an only-one-bed situation.”
“Yes?” It sounded like a question but he looked at her like he was starting to wonder if she’d lost her good sense as well as her memory.
“So this is a classic only-one-bed scenario . . .”
“I’m confused,” he said.
“There’s only one bed.”
“Yeah. I can see the bed. It’s right there. And . . . oh.” Suddenly, it must have dawned on him. “You can have it.”
“Oh! No!” She couldn’t do that. She was ninety-nine percent certain she was a feminist and also a heavy sleeper, so . . . “You take the bed. It’s only fair. I had it all afternoon. I can sleep on the floor. You can sleep—”