All My Tomorrows by Colette L. Saucier

Author:Colette L. Saucier [Saucier, Colette L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780615657387
Google: 0L0rUv6lZpwC
Amazon: 0615657389
Publisher: Colette Saucier
Published: 2012-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Peter closed her door just before two, and Alice stood staring at it for several minutes after. Once able to shake off the shock of everything that had happened in the last hour, she took a shower and cried. Not gentle tears but full-blown sobs, which depleted her such that she braced her arms and head against the shower wall. And yet, she had no idea why she was crying.

Once she had run out of tears, she got out of the shower and put on a thin robe. A storm had come in, and rain pelted against the balcony like rocks. She opened the French door and realized it was rocks – or hail, rather – and wondered if he had made it back to his hotel before the storm. If he went to his room. Maybe he went back to the bar. He had been pretty wound up – he still has time to get laid. She slammed the door.

She curled up on the bed, staring at the wall, considering Xanax and sleep, wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t kicked him out of bed. No. That would have been a tragedy. Damn tequila. I hate him. He is the last man in the world I would want to sleep with.

But could he really be in love with me? The thought of a major motion picture star falling in love with her defied even her imagination. Although he did appear in public with her, even though she is so beneath him.

Oh no. Forget what people are going to say about him when that video got out. What would they say about her? I still have to face everyone back at the show! Well, maybe none of them will see it…

She continued ruminating over various scenarios, all equally mortifying, until light drifted through from the balcony and she gave up on sleep. The rain had somehow rendered the city less humid, and after a few minutes sitting on the balcony in just her robe, she caught a chill and went in and got dressed. She pulled a sweater around her and sat on the balcony as the sunrise changed the light-play on the buildings around her.

The eerie silence of the Quarter piqued her curiosity and coaxed her outside where the smell of wet concrete overwhelmed all others. Bourbon Street had been transformed into a bacchanal ghost down, dampened debris the only evidence of the previous night’s festivities. When she came to the karaoke bar – neon sign dark, doors closed – the night before seemed like a dream. Except she still hadn’t slept.

She turned the opposite way of “the alley” and meandered toward Jackson Square as she reflected on every look, every touch through the filter of his confession. The aromas of powdered sugar and beignets boiling in oil aroused her senses, but she couldn’t eat. She considered getting a café au lait, but she didn’t want to speak to anyone – even to order a coffee. She

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