Archer winks at me before leaning back into the open doorway, but before he can kiss whoever is inside, a hand pushes at his chest.
“Just go,” a raspy voice says.
I’m still standing, hand on the doorknob of Kit’s hotel room door, when a masculine back faces me. The man watches Archer make his way down the hall to the elevator. My cheeks flush with embarrassment because I know exactly what I’m seeing, but the man in front of me hasn’t spotted me yet. I feel like an interloper, like I’m watching something play out that’s not supposed to be known by anyone else. Much like what happened between Kit and me this weekend.
The man begins to turn around, and I have nowhere to run. The door to Kit’s room is already closed, and the keycard I managed to convince the front desk clerk to give me last night is still inside.
My eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when he turns around and I’m standing practically face-to-face with Brooks-fucking-Morgan.
“Oh. My. God,” I hiss, my eyes darting back down in the direction the rock god disappeared.
Brooks looks from me to the door I’m standing in front of. I have a million questions, the first one starting with his kiss-swollen lips. I don’t voice any of those because the man honestly looks terrified, and that makes me more than a little sad.
“I saw nothing,” I whisper.
“Same,” he says after looking at Kit’s door one more time.
I walk past him, clutching my heels and purse to my chest. My mind is racing with the possible fallout of what his finding me outside Kit’s room could entail. My pulse is racing and doesn’t seem to want to ebb on the ride back up to my own room.
By the time I have all of my clothes packed and ready to check out of the room, I’m left feeling more than a little sad, both for Brooks and his need to hide who he truly is, and for the man I left sleeping in the room next to his best friend’s room. Secrets suck, but honestly, making promises suck even more. Telling Beth I’d never hook up with one of her brothers wasn’t hard. The words flew off my tongue easily so many years ago, and I didn’t struggle with that promise when Jason hit on me my freshman year in college. Of course he was older and smoking hot, but he was also the boy I caught jacking off in the bushes several years before. My fifteen-year-old mind just couldn’t accept what I was seeing, despite him assuring me he wasn’t a pervert, but he couldn’t find a damn decent place in the house to ease that need? It’s funny now when I think about it, but back then I was traumatized, certain the boy was a damn deviant.
I blame the weekend and whatever damn love shit is floating around in the air for me even considering hooking up with Kit, but I also don’t want to lie to myself. I came to this event with the intention of having sex with the man. I knew he’d never turn me down. I abused the crush he’s had on me for over a decade. I betrayed his good nature, but I couldn’t see myself doing that with anyone else. He’s a good man, from a wonderful family, and when I thought about what I wanted to do, I knew it had to be him. Even if Jason, Anders, and Gannon weren’t married, it would’ve always been Kit.
I fight the tears that are threatening to fall down my cheeks as I reach for my phone. No messages from Kit seem like a good thing, but the sight of my blank screen still makes my heart ache a little. I fire off a text to Beth, apologizing because I’m going to miss brunch, taking the coward’s way out. I’m certain she hasn’t woken up yet, and if she has, then Spencer is already keeping her busy.
I don’t immediately leave my room. I strip out of my dress and climb into the shower, both needing to wash away the scent of him from my skin so I can start over, and also wasting time in the hopes that Kit will wake, notice me gone, and come find me.
It’s a foolish thought, one that carries its own burden of lies. I just can’t seem to stop myself for wishing for it, for wanting this weekend to mean a little more to him than I’d originally wanted, considering the weight of what could be happening right now.
Kit doesn’t knock on my door. He isn’t miraculously sitting on the bed when I exit the bathroom.
I have no choice but to get dressed and leave the room, praying I don’t run into anyone from the wedding on my way out to my car.