9 Days and 9 Nights by Katie Cotugno

Author:Katie Cotugno
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2018-03-20T00:00:00+00:00

Day 5

I wake up in the blackest of moods, a headache thumping dully at the base of my brain stem and my jaw on fire from clenching it all night long. I know I’m being completely irrational—after all, Gabe and I have been broken up since last summer—but I can’t stop picturing Sadie and him tangled together on the pullout, can’t stop hearing their quiet private sounds. It’s compulsive, like poking at an abscessed tooth.

“Are you okay?” Ian asks, and I startle; I didn’t even realize he was awake. I look over at his sweet, sleepy face and abruptly feel like the Loch Ness Monster: why the hell am I obsessing over Gabe and his girlfriend when I’m lying next to Ian? Enough is enough.

“Just hung over,” I say, even though between all my ridiculous, farcical encounters I hardly had time to drink anything last night at all. Then, pulling him toward me on an impulse: “Come here.”

I slide my hands up under Ian’s T-shirt, bite lightly at his bottom lip. Then, a second later, I wrinkle my nose and push him gently away. “Okay,” I say, laughing a little. “Wait, maybe not. Your mouth tastes like ass.”

“I just woke up two seconds ago!” Ian protests. “And you’re the one kissing me! You think you taste like a fucking Shamrock Shake right now?” Then he grins, pulling me back under the covers. “Don’t stop.”

That makes me laugh, warm and pleased-feeling; I’m settling in closer when Imogen’s voice rings out.

“Hey, travelers!” she calls from the kitchen, banging what sounds like a wooden spoon on the underside of a pot. “Get out here! I’m making Irish breakfast before you go!”

Ian groans low and quiet against my mouth. “Is she serious right now?” he asks, knocking our foreheads lightly together.

“Imogen doesn’t kid about breakfast foods,” I say, nudging him off me and swinging my bare feet down onto the rag rug. We get dressed and pad out to the crowded kitchen, where Imogen is standing at the stove in front of a hissing frying pan full of sausages, flipping them onto their backs with a wooden spoon.

“Morning,” she says, shooting me a look that I immediately recognize as meaning I’m sorry and we’ll talk later and you’re my best friend all at the same time. I nod and offer her a small smile, pressing my fingertips against her shoulder in return.

“You guys took off early,” Ian says, nodding at Gabe and then Sadie, who’s slicing tomatoes at the kitchen table, rosy-cheeked and satisfied like a person who unequivocally spent the night having super-romantic makeup sex. Just looking at her makes me want to howl.

“Yeah. Just tired, I guess.” Gabe is standing at the counter pouring coffee out of the ancient metal percolator. “Here,” he says, handing me a chipped mugful. I muster a mumbled thanks and turn away, ignoring the quizzical look I can feel him shooting at my back. I don’t want anything to do with him this morning. I don’t want anything to do with him for the rest of my life.

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