Page 24 of The Ring
“Don’t worry, Annabelle changed you,” Laurie says, noticing my confused expression. Not that I’m worried; he’s seen me in a bikini plenty of times, so it’s basically the same as if he’s seen me in underwear. “Also… you threw up in the bathtub.” He points at it. “You might want to let one of the maids know to clean it.”
I inspect him and realise he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday: a black Ami jumper, now slightly wrinkled, and dark blue jeans. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I appreciate him taking care of me, but it’s giving me anxiety thinking he might have slept in my bed with his outside clothes. I have a big thing about dirty clothes in my bed—or anything dirty, really.
He notices me glancing at his clothes and knows me too well. “I slept in the guest bedroom,” he reassures me.
I breathe a sigh of relief, and he laughs at my reaction.
“Where’s Annabelle?” I ask.
He averts his gaze from me, taking the white cushion from behind his back and placing it on his lap, fidgeting with it. “In the guest bedroom.”
I’m shocked—of all the things that could have happened yesterday, this never crossed my mind, but what a marvellous turn of events. This makes everything that happened yesterday feel worth it.
There are three guest bedrooms in my house, and she could have very well stayed in any of the others that weren’t the same as Laurie’s, but the way Laurie looked at me makes it clear the guest room he’s referring to is the same one he slept in.
Still, I want confirmation. “Is the guest bedroom she’s in the same one you sleptin?”
“Yes,” he murmurs, not meeting my eyes. I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off. “We were just talking and fell asleep there.”
I smirk at him. “Just talking.”
“Didn’t we agree a long time ago that you would stay out of my love life?” he arches his brows.
Sadly, yes. A while ago, I got involved in his love life. I was trying to help him. He didn’t see it that way, and we ended up having the one and only real fight we’ve ever had. It only ended after I promised him I would never interfere in that aspect of his life again.
I put my hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, I won’t say anything. I’ll just think about it.”
Laurie rolls his eyes.
“So, my brother and your mother… I never would have thought it,” he says casually, as if he’s just talking about a weird food combination or something.
I knew this was coming. I knew both Laurie and Annabelle would eventually bring up the topic, each in their own way. Laurie is using a light approach. At least he didn’t bring up what happened with Nate, though I suppose the most shocking thing wasn’t that.
Once, I was told by a therapist that I sometimes use humour and avoidance as a defence mechanism—something I think Laurie and I share. And I knew he wouldn’t be too aghast about it all; he’s the most understanding person.
“I know. It’s disgusting.”
“Well…” Laurie hesitates, stopping himself.
“What?” I ask, irritated. I hate when people stop mid-sentence because they regret saying something—either say it or say nothing at all.
His green eyes flicker with a hint of shame. “You have to admit, your motheris hot.”
I give him a look of disgust.
“My mother is mostly made of plastic at this point. If the weather gets too hot, she’ll probably melt,” I tell him.
Laurie looks embarrassed by what he just said, but it’s the truth. My mother is very attractive for a fifty-something-year-old woman, that is.
“I don’t mean it as an excuse, just as a completely objective observation…You’re hot, so it’s normal if she… I mean, if she wasn’t your…” He winces. “I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
I nod.
A wave of nausea hits me and I run to my bathroom, with Laurie following close behind. I lean over the sink, and Laurie holds my hair back as I gag, but nothing comes out. I guess there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up.
“This is your fault,” I mutter.
He pats my back. “Yeah, yeah, just concentrate on what you’re doing.”
