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She lent me a spare outfit too, a black dress that's short on her and criminal on me. She's tall, but I'm a giant.
After she and Damon left the room, I took a shower, went back to sleep, ordered breakfast, watched TV mindlessly. It's been a few hours now.
I have to face my husband.
There is something about the word. Something scary and thrilling. But it doesn't matter. It was a hazy mistake.
Yes, I like Jackson, but I'm leaving the state in three weeks. There's no way we can stay married on separate coasts.
We need to go home and take care of it.
It's just—
I'd love if that process included a lot of sex. Is that so wrong?
When I stepinto the hotel room, Cassie and Jackson stare at me like I'm a ghost. The ghost of an uncomplicated fling, I guess. There's no way to turn this mix-up into a trip of fantastic sex without strings.
But as long as I'm face-to-face with the consequences of my actions, I might as well enjoy the sex. Right?
Cassie catches herself and shrugssorry, but this is weird.
Jackson half-smiles. There's something in his eyes. Some encouragement. Or caution. I can't tell anymore.
"Aren't we supposed to have breakfast together?" Cassie asks. "The post-wedding brunch."
"You wouldn't be caught dead at brunch," I say.
She smiles. "Only the one at your place."
We used to have an anti-brunch. Though I'm not sure why it was different than a normal brunch. We ate breakfast food, drank a lot of coffee, listened to music, and talked about sci-fi.
Maybe it was the sci-fi.
We usually watchedThe Matrixfor the ten millionth time.
We rarely talked about dating, sex, love, lipstick.
"I can make a reservation for you," Cassie laughs. "Before Laurel and Zack get the idea to do it."
Shit. Those two troublemakers will really enjoy this. But maybe we can skip all that. "Later."
Cassie nods. "Right. Got it. You want to get to the other honeymoon activities." She laughs as she stands. "I'm sorry. This is just… it is fun, being on the other side. I can see why Damon is so annoying when I have a hangover."
"Where is Damon?" I ask.
"Working," she says. "Are you sure I can have the hotel room back?"
Jackson's eyes meet mine. They invite me to take as much space as I need. To come closer or run away.
No one has ever looked at me like that, like they're okay with whatever I decide. Is that how he really feels, or has he somehow developed an elaborate way to fake it?
The warmth of his expression feels so good.
I want this so badly, for someone to truly want to hear what I want and truly be okay with it. Even if it's not what they want. Even if it hurts them.
"You can have the room," I say. "I need to talk to my husband."
Cassie nodsof course, crosses the room, wraps her arms around me. "Call me if you need anything."
