With one eye closed, I dare to open the other, only to be blinded by the morning sun. The harsh rays make it all the more harrowing, forcing me to shut both eyes and hide from the light. I bury my head in the pillow again when a familiar scent lingers in the air. What is that? I can’t seem to comprehend much, consumed by the agony desperate to control my head. But as I place my hand on the pillow, it becomes increasingly unfamiliar. Not at all like my own pillow at home, nor Austin’s bed either.
My body jolts upright; eyes wide open as the room slowly comes to full view. It’s a hotel room, a very fancy one. It’s not just a room; it appears to be a suite, quite possibly a penthouse. Shit. Where am I, and who did I end up with? Beside me is my phone with a text message on the screen.
Will: Nothing happened.
It all comes back to me. Well, only part of the night comes back. The rest is hazy. I recall our encounter in the office, the uncomfortable exchange in the elevator, and the moment he told me he hadn’t forgotten about us.
Unable to handle what went down, there was no way I was going home to be alone. I knew myself too well. I would have spent the night festering over seeing him again. Instead, I called Andy and asked him to meet me for drinks. Given it was a Friday night, he already had plans but ditched his friends because it wasn’t often when I begged him to be my drinking buddy. At least not anymore.
The rest of the night is completely blank. No memory, no recollection of anything.
I throw myself back into bed, only to hear the churn of my stomach. With only a few seconds to spare, I race for the bathroom and empty last night’s contents into the fancy hotel’s toilet bowl. I spend a good hour in there, regretting my actions, of course. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, just like always when I am around Will.
He is this magnetic force who screws with my capability to make good decisions. It’s like nothing else matters, no acknowledging the consequences of my so-called actions.
When I finally peel myself away from the bathroom, I enter the room again and gaze at the surroundings. There is nothing to suggest he even stayed here. Not a single item of his strewn across the room, though given his obsessive need to be so tidy, I’m not surprised either.
The
room is bare, and then I begin to think—why did he bring me back here? Why not to his apartment? For once, maybe he is thinking clearly. The apartment would have been too much and perhaps a temptation neither one of us could fight.
What are you even thinking? You’re engaged. You love Austin. You would never hurt him.
Shit! Austin.
According to Will’s text, nothing happened. I had to believe him. What other option did I have? It didn’t erase the guilt beginning to crawl its way through me and eat away at my conscience. At some point, I would have to tell Austin about last night. I just need to figure out the best time, given he won’t be pleased with Will’s return.
I make the journey back home, desperate for my own shower and bed. It’s Saturday morning, perfect to catch up on all the things I was unable to do during the week, like laundry. Yet my mind needs something more challenging, desperate to lose myself in case studies and theory notes.
When night falls, my eyes begin to strain once again from the constant focus on the screen. But I’d managed to get through the day and distract myself. The exhaustion has crept in, so I make myself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, then call it a night.
On Sunday morning, I am woken up by the sound of my phone buzzing beside me. I lift it up to view the screen, only to see Ava calling.
“What?” I groan, eyes falling shut again. “It’s early.”
“I gave you a day to recover, which I think is very generous of me.”
I let out a loose chuckle. “I saw your Insta stories yesterday. You were at some shoot in Long Island surrounded by very sexy men. I highly doubt you were giving me a day to recover. You were knee-deep in dick, admit it.”
“You’re so crass,” she drags.
“Only for you, little sister,” I remind her smugly. “What do you want anyway? It’s early.”
“I want to know what happened on Friday night. Will called me.”
“Will called you?” I sit upright, my attention suddenly piqued. “What did he say?”
“You drunk texted him, apparently. He was worried and wanted to know where you were, so I suggested the bar near Andy’s.”
“I drunk texted him?”
My finger scrambles through to my inbox. I scroll up on Will’s text message to see what I wrote to him. Thank God…it could have been worse. My eyes close upon relief, but it doesn’t erase the fact I’d texted him first. And worst—while drunk on Fireball.
“Were you going to tell me you saw him again?”
“I didn’t have time…I saw him then met with Andy.”
“Millie,” Ava says in a softer tone. “I know you’re upset.”