I brush my teeth with one of the disposable toothbrushes in the hotel toiletries kit then I force myself to step into the main room.
Joel is sitting on the edge of the bed, his shaggy hair hanging in front of his eyes. But that's about all I can see without my glasses. Only. I think he's holding my glasses? Maybe.
"You look cute when you squint." He motions come here.
I think. It's hard to say. My uncorrected vision is terrible.
Slowly, I plant one foot in front of the other. I sit next to him.
He slides my glasses onto my face. His fingers skim my temples then they comb through my messy hair.
His grey-green eyes fix on mine.
He looks happy.
Tired, but happy.
I force myself to keep my gaze on his eyes.
I can't look.
Not yet.
My inhale is shallow. My exhale is forced.
Joel's expression is soft.
Happy.
He looks really fucking happy.
He pulls my body into his and presses his palm against the space between my shoulder blades.
He rubs my back with his hand.
His right hand.
His left arm is there, by his chest.
By his defined, tattooed chest.
God, he's yummy. It's hard to believe someone as hot as Joel wanted to sleep with me much less marry me. It's not that I'm ugly. But I'm more… soft. Round. Chubby is the word Anne uses, though she claims it's lovingly.
My gaze shifts to his taut stomach.
To his lap—he's wearing boxers, tragically.
There's his hand, resting on his tanned knee.
And there's a platinum band on his ring finger.
Fuck.
His voice is even. Sweet. "You okay?"
I shake my head.
"Hangover?"