17. Jealousy rears its head

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17. Jealousy rears its head

Marc
What the hell happened last night? The details were a bit a foggy. I knew there was something I should be remembering, but unfortunately my alcohol induced brain just couldn't remember. I rolled over and slowly opened my eyes. That was strange? I never slept on my stomach. What was even stranger was that I was sleeping in a shirt.

The sudden unsteady feeling in the pit of my stomach made me aware that I needed to empty the contents of my stomach. I bolted to the bathroom and quickly dry heaved into the toilet. After my less than graceful awakening, I cleaned myself. After clearing the remaining sleep from my eyes I got a good look around my bathroom. My clothes from last night was scattered across the floor, and there in my enormous shower was a dress. A dress that I knew didn't belong to me.

"What the...James?" I exited my room with the intention of getting some well deserved answers. "James, what the hell happened last night? Why is there a woman's dress in my shower?" He looked up from the paper he was reading. "I guess you were really drunk after all. Have a seat." He went to the refrigerator and took out something. He got a bowl from the cupboard and started transferring the contents from the container to the bowl. His back was turned so I couldn't really see what it was. "What are you doing?" He put the bowl into the microwave and waited for it to heat up. "As to what happened last night, I couldn't tell you. I left the club early remember? It was only when I came here I became aware of the fact you were drunk. Can you imagine my shock at hearing such news? The great Marc Paxton actually got drunk."

"I wasn't drunk," I grumbled under my breath. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." The aroma that assaulted my nose was one I hadn't smelled in years. "Is that..."

"Chicken soup, compliments of one Ms. Natalía." The spoon stopped halfway to my mouth. "Natalía was here?" He nodded. "You're telling me that Natalía cooked this?" He nodded once again. The laughter that erupted from me could be heard all over the building. "You must have been drunker than I was, mate. You are telling me that Natalía Accosi, heiress to the Birke foundation, sole owner of Accosi's International Concept, former model and wife of one of the richest men in Europe cooked this?" I took a taste unable to resist the tempting aroma any more. It was good. I savoured the taste before drinking some more. Definitely homemade.

"Are you sure Natalía made this?"
"How many times do I have to repeat myself? I was here when she made it."
"Are you sure it was her? 5 feet 9 inches tall, blonde hair, blue eyes?"
"Just drink your damn soup!"
"It's really good. You should try some."
"Already did."
"I still don't believe Natalía made this. That woman hates cooking. I'm not even sure she knows how to cook."
"Well she did. She's also the one that brought you home last night, gave you a shower and put you to bed. You should be thanking her." I guess that explains the dress in the shower. "So that's Natalía's dress in the shower?"
"Man you really were out of it. I assume it's hers. She left here in one of your shirts. You really don't remember any of this?"
"I wish I did."

We sat in silence while I finished the rest of my soup. My mind kept wondering to last night. Why couldn't I remember anything that happened?

"Good, you're eating. At least you know how to do something right."
"When did you get here?"
"She has a key."
"She has a key? Why does she have a key to your apartment?" I shrugged. "She probably has a key to your apartment in London as well."

"Ha ha very funny. Good morning to you both. This I believe belongs to you." She handed me my shirt. "I'm just going to go get my dress." James eyed me when she walked off. "She has a key to your apartment, and she's going into your bedroom. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"
"Excuse me a minute." I left James mumbling to himself.

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