Marry me

Chapter Twenty-Two.

The next morning, I had a vague memory of what had transpired the previous night.

And- I ended up sleeping in living room.

Light. Bright... Warm... Piercing... Light. It was everywhere. Invading my deep, dreamless sleep like a starving mosquito. I tried to hide and curl into a ball but the glare was too strong.

"Please," I grunted, sounding something like a cross between a choking cavewoman from the ancient world and a bleeding pig. "Switch off the goddamn light." My hands went high in front of my face to try to shield my eyes from the torture. There. It was better that way. But of course, I wasn't a robot so I couldn't remain in that position for long. My hands began to droop low and the light was back on my face again out for blood.

I continued this routine for about a minute or so before finally deciding to succumb to torturous wakefulness. The moment I opened them, I felt it-a throbbing pain that ignited in my temples and stretched to my forehead and the back of my head.

"Jesus." I winced. Mostly because of the headache and my sore muscles from sleeping uncomfortably on the couch. A brutal morning sunlight greeted me, pouring through the vast full-height windows.

I turned on my back, facing the ceiling as my eyes flitted around the living room. Everything in it looked gorgeous in the gleaming sunshine. The clean floor and the crystal chandelier in the distance seemed to reflect the sunlight even more than the glass windows. My gaze caught one of the landscape masterpieces that were propped up the wall. An artistic swirl and whirl of colors, it was. The artwork was contained in a silver frame. I could make out tall, green trees either side of some sort of pathway. A forest maybe? A boulevard? I had no idea at all. I made out a figure standing in the space between the trees. A dark black figure. A silhouette. Looking all lost and alone? Somehow, I felt like this painting was familiar. I frowned.

I vaguely heard a distant and low thrumming noise of a vacuum cleaner and the humming of digital music. Both noises, though quiet, combined together to convey an incoherent and louder noise.

The cacophony took my attention away from painting. I looked my head just in time to catch a glimpse of Ann's salt and pepper hair bouncing along with her as she danced around, pushing the vacuum cleaner and mouthing the lyrics of the music playing. I smiled, she looked so cheeful. and carefree unlike my recently former boss.

As if on cue, her eyes met mine and she cracked a grin. "Oh dear. How did you sleep?" She frowned at the vacuum cleaner that was still humming in the background along with the music. "I must have woken you up-"

"No, no," I said. "Ann, you didn't. Actually, I've been awake for a while now. Just resting my sore muscles, you know?" I grinned. "Good morning. I slept very well, thank you."

"Good morning!" she beamed. "Isabelle, not that I'm complaining but your choice of where to sleep is very... er, peculiar."

"Oh yeah. Well, my room was cold. So... I..."

I trailed off. Fractured memories flooded my mind-the alcohol...oh no... talking to stars like someone who's lost all her marbles... tipsy version of me going to Mr. Asshole's room...double oh no.

"Dear, are you okay? Should I get some water? You look very pale."

I shake my head slowly, mouthing wordlessly. I didn't know what to say. Oh yes. I'm not okay. Well, you see, my room was so damn cold yesterday so I gallivanted for hours around the house looking for the wine cellar and when I finally found it, I got tipsy and mistook my fake husband's room for mine, and he thought I was a hired assassin and got me underneath him after which I saw him shirtless which was very hot and, of course, we argued, you know? The usual stuff, before I retrieved my undead brain cells and finally decided to sleep here.