“Hi!” I call out.
There’s takeout on the kitchen island and I can hear the TV from the bedroom. I head there and see JP on top of the covers, half propped up against the headboard. At the sound of my footsteps, he blinks back to life. “Mia…”
I sit on the bed next to him. “Sorry to wake you up.”
He scoots over and puts his head in my lap, which might be normal for people who are dating, but for me it’s strange. We just met. If only I’d trusted him and told him about the memory loss.
“Rub my back, would you?”
His skin is hot to the touch from sleeping. His body is undeniably beautiful, muscles and smooth skin under my hands. He’s Jacques-o-late, though, not chocolate. Does that make him a substitute for the real thing, for Max? Is he seitan, the vegetarian wheat meat?54
“Mmm,” he says. “I tried waiting up, but jet lag. How was your work thing?”
I’m in an ad for The Good Life.
“I’m sorry I took forever. I had trouble getting one of my clients to her date.” I remember the flashback from earlier. “Do you still want me to give up my business?”
He sighs. “I want you to sell it and make lots of money, and then have some beautiful babies with me.” He looks at me suggestively. “Speaking of which…”
Is that what I want too? Was I going to dissolve GoldRush? Investing $100,000 in Jules wouldn’t make sense if that were true.
“Mmhmmm,” he whispers into my neck between kisses. He slides his hand up underneath my dress along my bare thigh. “I missed you.”
On the one hand, that feels really good, but on the other, I wish he’d buy me a drink first. “Can we take it a little slower?” I ask.
He groans. “Reading you loud and clear. Let’s make this last.” He flips me back on the bed and slides my panties down.
I guess he thinks “take it slower” means more foreplay. Who can blame him? He’s practically my fiancé. We’ve been apart for almost a week and we fought right before he left. He’s probably been looking forward to the make-up sex for days. I should probably want to tear his clothes off too. Girls who don’t know him probably want to tear his clothes off.
His hand on my leg feels good. Sort of. Then his head is between my legs, which is really nice of him. JP seems to be very generous. Ohmygod.
He looks up. “Relax, cherie.”
I can’t. I can’t shut my brain off. A sexy billionaire who wants to marry me is going down on me—that should be a good thing. I close my eyes tighter and try to power down my stupid brain. Relax, Mia—a billionaire is on your clit. Just enjoy it.
This isn’t a big deal. We must do it all the time. This is probably the gazillionth time that I’ve had sex with this man, but it feels like having sex with a stranger.
I should probably just tell him I have a headache, but I don’t want to fuck up a second relationship in the span of an hour. “Is there some lube around here?” I ask. “I’m sorry. I’m just really dehydrated.”
He slowly undoes the side zipper on my dress and pulls it over my arched hips and down my legs. “I forgot how beautiful you are.”
“Funny you should say that.”
He trails kisses from my stomach up to my breasts and somewhere in the middle of everything my brain goes blank. I’m floating on a cloud and I don’t know if I’m in the moment or remembering some past moment. Either way JP comes hard and doesn’t notice that I don’t. I guess JP isn’t that perfect. Do men ever notice?
He has some sort of wet wipe in the nightstand for cleanup. He hands me one and I wipe between my thighs.
With my head on his chest, his breathing goes even and there I am with a beautiful stranger who loves me. But here I am crying. Real love should feel better than this. I reach over him for the remote. Maybe something silly will take my mind off of everything that has happened today.
I turn on a rerun of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Kim and Khloé are on their way to the police station. Kris is yelling at Kim to stop taking selfies because “Your sister is going to jail.”
I giggle in spite of myself. Kim is so vain but I love her. And Khloé is such a ho bag but I love her too. Here I am tucked into the crook of a handsome man’s arm. He’s just made love to me and wants to propose, and the only people who feel like family are the Kardashians. They’re like my sisters except they forgot to give me a K name.
And really, if anyone could relate to what’s happened to me, it would be the Kardashians. Girl, you wouldn’t believe it, but JP just proposed and we made love, but I can’t remember him and I think I really love Max even though I just met him too. Oh, and I might go to jail for check fraud. If anyone would get that, it would be them. I wish I could meet them for cocktails and tell them all about it.
I wish I had a sister who would take selfies in the back seat while my mom was driving me to the station to turn myself in for check fraud. I need a girlfriend to talk this over with. Max is great, but I need to talk about him too.
Now I’m full-on crying.
JP wakes up, probably concerned about an impending flood, and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
I laugh half-heartedly. “The Kardashians.” I smile weakly. “This show makes me cry.” He looks confused. “I think I’m overtired or getting my period or something.”
“Aww. Poor baby.” He hugs me tighter and kisses the top of my head. It’s sweet and comforting.
He’s consoling me for all the wrong reasons. I should probably tell him I’m crying because of him, but…I can do that in the morning.
Before I fall asleep, I check Jules’s Instagram. He’s posted a photo of him and Crystal on a moonlit beach. They look beautiful. I see #GoldRush at the end of the caption.
51 Let’s hope.
52 I almost threw away life with a French chocolatier who lives in a pink house. A PINK HOUSE FILLED WITH CHOCOLATE. Somebody slap me.
53 Frosted Flakes, straight out of the box, right before we watched that dumb show about the universe, and it was perfect.
54 Shut up, Mia!
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
I wake up to the sound of my phone buzzing. It’s Crystal. Can I have a ride?
I doubt that I’m normally this excited to give someone a ride at six in the morning, but today…I look at JP. He’s passed out naked next to me. Sexy, naked billionaire with a French accent, and I’m a red-blooded American girl—I shouldn’t be so excited to run out of here like someone is chasing me, but here I am.