Lucy Wagner Gets In Shape (A Romantic Comedy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

After a moment he clears his throat, and whatever spell we are under passes.
    “You haven’t been sitting here eating your sweeties all morning, have you?” He frowns at the bag on the coffee table.
    “Oh, those?” I make a scoffing noise in the back of my throat. “I didn’t even see them—Will must have put them there.”
    “Figures,” Paul mutters, and I scowl at him. Paul might be the only human being on the planet (other than Diana, natch) who doesn’t like Will. For the life of me, I’ll never understand it.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask, changing the subject. What the hell is he doing here?
    “I came to pick up some stuff. I’m sorry, I thought you’d be at work.” He stands slowly, and I guess he figures this part of the conversation needs to be conducted from the other side of the room. The flying potpourri pot flashes through my mind, and I don’t blame him.
    “Oh, yeah, well…” I trail off uncomfortably. “Go ahead and get what you need.” He doesn’t move, so I keep talking, because I never miss an opportunity to flap my jaw when I’m nervous.
    “Where are you staying?”
    “With a friend,” he says noncommittally. He picks up the TV remote and starts flipping through channels. I’d tell him to stop, but technically, it is his TV.
    “A friend with ties to the Pentagon?” I mutter from under the icepack on my cheek, but when Paul asks “What?” I say nothing. Screw him—why does he have to look so good ?
    Paul stops on a sports channel, and then refocuses on me. “Why don’t I just get my clothes for now, and I’ll come back later for the other stuff when you’re feeling better.” This sounds reasonable to me, and I watch him walk back to “our” bedroom. I’m still sleeping in the guest room, but I have left a mess in the master bath. I start to feel bad about it, then decide he can stuff my wet towels and make-up stained tissues up his ass. God, his ass looks tight in those jeans.
    Get a grip, Lucy.
    After a moment, I hear him yell “Luce…” from what I can only assume is the cavern of the closet. If I scream back, I’ll give myself a colossal headache, so I gingerly scoot off the couch and make my way back to the bedroom.
    “What?”
    “Where are my DVD’s?”
    “What are you talking about?” Holy shit, did Will actually take them? Suddenly I’m on the verge of a huge, stress and codeine-induced laughing fit. I cover my mouth with my hands, then let out an unattractive wail of pain.
    “Whoa, are you okay?”
    “Yes, it’s just my stupid wrist. And I had to get some stitches, and they’re starting to sting a bit.” I hide my arm behind my back suddenly. I don’t want him to see my injuries-they’re so ugly.
    “Well, you’re face looks like you were run over by a truck. You’d better go back and lie down.” He pulls several suits and jackets from the closet and throws them across the bed. I continue to watch him take items from the closet, and the finality of it all hits me, hard. Afraid I might start crying, or throwing things again, I turn to leave, but stop short when I hear a “what the fuck?” from the bathroom.
    “Paul?” I walk in and find him crouching underneath the sink. He’s pulling out toiletries from the cabinet, and I see a few dozen of his DVDs, which have been haphazardly crammed in between his hand towels and Sonicare toothbrush refills. A bubble of laughter rises from my chest, and Paul gives me a disgusted look.
    “You think this is funny? Screwing around with my stuff?”
    “I…I didn’t…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence, so I just stand there, trying my best to stem my giggles. I am going to kill Will. Or kiss him. I haven’t decided yet.
    “Have you screwed around with anything else?” He sneers from inside the closet.
    “Have you fucked around with anyone else?” I counter. That shuts him up. He finishes throwing various items into a large blue duffel bag, then turns to face me.
    “We need to