“Me too.” A dark look stole across his face. “To make things worse, I’m afraid I have bad news on the Vegas criminal investigation.”
“Don’t say it.”
“It’s not possible to track down who drugged us.” Lachlan went into detail about private investigators, camera access, and other things I barely caught. All I knew was that we were married and there was no backup plan. No big revelations coming to end this charade.
“I’m sorry.” Lachlan ran a light hand down my arm. “But we’ll get through it. Together.” As if realizing what he’d done, that hand fell away.
“I should call it a night,” I said, ignoring the unexpected tingle running from shoulder to wrist. I was positivelywroughtwith disappointment, anxiety, and a moderate amount of anger, so why on earth was I feeling zips and zings from Lachlan’s hands? “I still have work to do for Rosie’s bookshop opening.”
“Right. See you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
Lachlan walked away, and I had just fallen face-first into the mattress ready to scream into a pillow when he returned.
“Olivia?”
Couldn’t a woman trapped in a marriage-of-convenience have five seconds to gracelessly melt down in the house she didn’t want to live in while sleeping next door to the man she wished she’d never encounteredagain?
I sat up and smoothed my hair. “Yes?”
Lachlan hovered in the doorway, his giant form casting a shadow on the floor. “Rosie mentioned an ex-boyfriend.”
Taylor the Terrible. “So?”
Lachlan must’ve found my tone of interest because his face softened into a smile. Then he leaned a hip to the doorjamb. “Tell me about this breakup.”
I hugged one of the pillows to my chest. “No.”
“I bet it was messy. You buttoned up ones always have messy break-ups.”
“It wasn’t,” I lied. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” But he didn’t move. “Although I’d sleep better if I knew the full tale. Think of it as my bedtime story.”
“Try a book instead.”
“What if this dude sees you married and decides he wants you back? Should I expect him at our front door?”
I thought of Taylor happily settled in New York at Flair’s home office. “Highly unlikely.”
“Because Sylvie made him disappear?”
“Because he broke up with me, stole my job, and hooked up with a busty waitress who serves pizza in Jersey. He’s not coming back to reclaim me.”
“Ouch.”
I flopped back onto the bed. “That relationship was the second time I swerved from my Ten-Year Plan, and I swore I’d never do it again.”
“Then we drank the funny Kool-Aid and got hitched.”
“Every time I don’t follow my own agenda, disaster follows. It happened in Italy, it happened last year, and it will no doubt happen in the course of our tragic marriage of six months.”
Lachlan angled his head and watched me. “Are you over this guy?”
“Yes.” But what Taylor had done to my heart had still not mended. “Goodnight.”
“A few more questions. Did he—”
