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He flinches but doesn’t look away. “Please.”
Need you.
His voice is wooden, but his eyes are sincere, maybe even a litt
le pleading, and…oh, damn. Damn.
I feel myself relenting. “I can pick the movie?”
“Any movie. My TV’s connected to iTunes, and they have nearly everything.”
I give a slow smile, and his eyes narrow. “Am I going to regret this?” he mutters.
“Have you ever seen Enchanted?” I ask breezily as I stroll toward his living room.
“What do you think?”
“Oh, you’ll love it,” I gush, plopping onto the couch and kicking off my cheetah-print flats, making myself at home with a throw blanket that was sitting on the arm. “It’s about a divorce attorney.”
“And?” he asks hesitantly. “What else is it about?”
“You’ll see.” I pat the cushion next to me as an invitation for him to join me, then reach for the remote, pushing buttons until I come up with the screen I want.
“Hold on,” he says, settling on the couch beside me, scowling at the TV. “Did it just say this movie is PG? Are we watching a kids’ movie?”
“Figured it’d be a safe bet, what with you being such a fan of The Wizard of Oz and all.”
The animated credits of Enchanted and Disney’s singsongy soundtrack start coming through his impressive sound system, and he groans.
“Oh, did I mention?” I ask sweetly, curling onto his couch and giving him a happy smile. “It’s also a princess movie.”
He leans his head back, giving me a bland look. “A divorce attorney and a princess.”
I nod. “You’ll like her. She wears poofy dresses and talks to pigeons.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “She sounds ridiculous.”
“As I said, you’ll like her. Or should I say, you won’t dislike her.”
He rolls his eyes, and we both turn back toward the TV, where a cartoon prince is chasing a troll, and out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see him smile.
Georgie
THURSDAY MORNING, REALLY EARLY
Last night I blamed the onset of my headache on two glasses of white wine.
Which, honestly, is probably a little silly. Two glasses doesn’t usually give me a headache unless it’s really crappy wine, and we all know Andrew Mulroney is so not the type of guy to have crappy wine on hand.
But you know what he has had on hand lately?
The freaking flu.
Sometime around three A.M., when I woke up with body-racking chills and my headache had gotten about ten times worse, I realized what had happened.
Andrew had been right.
That sidewalk kiss had consequences more dire than tabloid rumors. Andrew Mulroney had passed his sick-bomb my way.
