I sneak out of the bed quietly, making sure not to disturb Tommy, and head straight for the bathroom. One look in the mirror, and my face reflects a tell-tale indication of the awful time I had last night. Well, until coming here, anyway.

My hair is a knotted, matted mess and my eyeliner has smeared, forming two, grayish semi-circles under my eyes.

This is why I always make sure to get up first.

Tommy thinks it's because I like to make the coffee—and I do—but I'm not quite the early riser he thinks I am.

I quickly wash the remains of last night's makeup away in order to start with a fresh palette. Morning application is a pretty complicated affair. I have to be careful to put on a fresh face while tactically taking care to end up looking charmingly disheveled. There's a fine line I need to walk here. I wouldn't want to get caught trying to look adorable in the morning!

I run a brush through my hair and scrub my chipped teeth before tiptoeing back into the bedroom and sliding back under the sheets.

Okay, now I'm bored.

I start to make some clandestine stirring noises in the hopes that Tom will wake up and take me out for breakfast. Hell, after the acrobatic feats I performed last night, that's the least he could do!

He finally starts to rouse, and when he opens his eyes, I fake a stretching yawn as if I've just woken up, too. Without a word, he pulls me to him and moves his body on top of mine.

The sex is quick but satisfying, and when we are through, Tom makes his typical break for the bathroom. Sometimes that really bugs me. It's like he can't even stick around and snuggle for two crummy minutes before darting off into the shower.

I get myself dressed and plant my ass on his bathroom counter, propping my back against the wall. Yelling over the water, I ask, "So what's your plan for today?"

His pebble-glass-warped shadow answers, "Uh... I have to run some contracts over to the office and then sit down with Jack about listing the townhouse. Shit! That reminds me. I should probably pick up a bottle or something as an engagement gift before heading over, huh?" He starts to chuckle. "So I guess that's my big plan. Why?"

Damn. "No reason. Actually, I have to hit that show at the Javits today, but I would have cut it short if you were going to be around."

He pokes his head out from behind the door and asks through a swirl of steam, "What show?"

"Tommy... I told you last week about the Gift Show at The Jacob Javits Center, remember? Where I go twice a year to order all my new inventory for the store?"

The door slides shut. "Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell."

That's because you never listen to me.

"It's only like the biggest retailer event in New York City. I had to secure my passes weeks ago. I know I told you about it."

I can tell he's disinterested, but he politely inquires, "Oh, yeah? Passes, plural? Who's going with you?"

I don't know why, but that gets my feathers up.

You know what? Fuck that. I do know why. I can't believe he just completely forgot that I was going to be unavailable for an entire Sunday. He knows I like to spend the day in bed with him, drinking coffee and doing the crosswords together, like all those happy couples in the soap commercials. The fact that I'm not even going to be around today has yet to even register on his Give-A-Shit scale.

"Do you really care?"

The water turns off, but there's a pause before the door slides aside, revealing Tom with an impatient look on his face. "Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"You know what."

I try to look innocent as I lower my gaze to my feet, idly tapping my heels against the doors of his vanity cabinet.

He grabs a towel off the bar to dry off before wrapping it around his waist and leaning his hip against the sink next to me. He crosses his arms while staring at my face, waiting on my reply.

Or so I think.

I try to sound coy, "Oh, Tommy, it's just—"

His hand flies up in a halt, cutting off my train of thought midsentence.

"You know what, Shay? Save it."

"What?"

He puts his hands on his hips and drops his head in exasperation, impeding any feeble argument I am tempted to offer.

"Just... do me a favor and save it for one day, okay?"

He gives me a long, hard look before walking out of the bathroom, barely glancing over his shoulder to say, "Have fun at your thing today. I'll talk to you later. You can let yourself out."

Then he disappears into his walk-in closet and shuts the door.