Page 34 of The Ruin
“This is what we should be doing, Brooklyn. Fucking. Not fighting.”
“I agree.” I push the tray away and close my eyes. “No more fighting, okay?”
“Just fucking,” Luka says, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “And this.”
I smile. “And this.”
Brooklyn
Chapter 15
I’m ready to make my peace with Monica.
It’s a sobering and surprising thought to have as I wake up early the next morning in Luka’s arms, my body deliciously achy with a sex hangover from last night. Yet I feel good about this decision. Whether Monica reciprocates or not, extending the olive branch to her is something I need to do before Luka and I can move forward. I know I’ll feel better in the long run. After all, Luka has been completely honest with me about his non-relationship with her, and I want to be able to put my jealousy behind me once and for all.
Climbing on top of Luka, I whisper in his ear, “Are you awake?”
“That depends,” he says, eyes still closed, his voice husky. “On what you have in mind.”
“I was thinking…” I drop a slow kiss on his lips, his jaw, his neck. “We should hit up the breakfast buffet. I’m sure they don’t call it the Bacchanal for nothing.”
“If there’s an actual bacchanal going on down there, I’m not letting you anywhere near that buffet. You’re all mine.”
He pushes me off him, rolling me over onto my back. I let out a squeal as he attacks me with kisses. “But I’m starving! I spent all night doing bedroom aerobics!” I insist. “Don’t you think I’ve earned a meal?”
“That you have,” he says. “So let’s shower up real quick and get down there.”
Both of us are ready to go in twenty minutes, which has to be an all-time speed record.
I slip into a laidback sundress and a lightweight cardigan to stave off the arctic hotel air conditioning, braid my hair, and then apply a swipe of mascara and a sheer bb cream that gives me a sun-kissed glow. I feel great today. Satiated. Satisfied. Happy, even. Luka’s forgone his usual formal work suit in favor of a crisp button-down and dress pants. He’s never looked better.
In fact, the lines on his face almost seem softer today. As if he’s completely at ease. I love this relaxed version of my husband, and I hope I can keep him this way.
As we head down in the elevator, our fingers intertwined, I realize that the entire production crew will probably be there, too. After all, the shoot starts in a few hours and everyone is staying at the same hotel. Hopefully it will make confronting Monica that much easier—since there’s a much better chance she’ll act civil toward me in a public venue than if I try to approach her during the photo shoot later.
“This is supposed to be the best buffet on the Strip. I can’t wait for the eggs benedict,” I say, practically doing a dance.
Luka smiles. “You checked out the menu already?”
“No. I’ve been too busy checkingyouout. But it’s a breakfast buffet. Eggs benny is a requirement to get a buffet license.”
This makes him laugh. “I don’t think you’re wrong about that.”
The place is crowded, just as I suspected, but since it’s a weekday we aren’t waiting in line for too long before we get seated in the huge restaurant. Everything is glass and brushed steel and gleaming floors—and then there’s the food. It’s lined up around the perimeter of the room as far as the eye can see. There are at least nine different food stations with chefs preparing items for guests, in addition to the already made dishes that pack the long buffets.
After the waiter takes our drink orders—two coffees—we stand and survey the spread.
“I’m loading up on wagyu beef and then hitting up the seafood bar,” Luka says.
“Good strategy,” I tell him. “I’ll be at the omelet station. Meet you back here in a few.”
With a quick kiss, we’re off in separate directions.
As I wait on line, I spy a familiar shape walking toward me and my heart flips.
“Hey, Monica,” I say, smiling as genuinely as I can. “How are you?”
“Tired,” she answers curtly, her voice coming out scratchy and thin.
