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I don’t know why I do this to myself. I don’t know why I drink myself silly and then end up passing out, only to wake up with the biggest headache known to man. Add in the fact that when my eyes open, I panic because I forget for a second where I am and why I’m in some stranger’s bed.
Flashbacks to my earlier twenties and the cycle of men’s rooms I snuck out of filter through my head as I sit up, the heels of my hands pressing into my eyes to stop the light from blinding me. Why did I think it was a good idea to drink all that rum and Coke? Why did I think it was a good idea to do all of that with a man I barely know? These are all great questions and unfortunately ones I will never have the answers to.
As my eyes adjust to the room around me, I take in the decor. The walls are dark blue, a color I never thought would look good in a bedroom, but actually feels really cozy and warm. All of Lucas’s furniture is white, including his duvet and pillows, something that shocks me because most men wouldn’t spend this much time coordinating their bedroom. I quietly make my way out of his bed and into the hallway and into his small bathroom. I try to be as quiet as I can since I have no idea what time it is, or if Lucas is awake.
Since my head feels like it’s about to explode from the headache that’s pounding against my skull, I search his cabinets and find some painkillers, taking some with a handful of water. I peer at myself in the mirror, grimacing at my reflection but knowing there’s nothing I can do about it right now. I take the hair tie I always carry on my wrist and tie my hair on top of my head before splashing some water on my face and bracing my hands on the edges of his sink.
Did yesterday really happen? Did the plan I had for my life really just fall apart at the seams within minutes of me walking through my door? Everything seems like a blur, from walking in on Mike to finding out he got another woman pregnant and still elected to stay with me. The audacity of men sometimes.
I decide I better get the awkward morning-after conversation over with and head back over to my place, pack up all the shit I can and find a hotel room for the night. I might have to call my parents and see if they’ll let me stay with them for a few weeks. It’s not ideal because they live an hour away from here, and we have a rocky past, but it might be my only choice.
The second I open the bathroom door, I hear Lucas talking to someone in the living room. I quietly make my way into the hall and when his voice rises, the anger apparent, I stop in my tracks.
“Mom, I’ve told you this a thousand times, I do not want you to set me up with any more women. I’m not ready to settle down yet.”
I frown, wondering what their family dynamic must be for them to be pushing women on him to the point of anger.
He listens to her for a minute and then everything goes a little insane. Lucas groans, a thud, that I assume is his fist, hits a wall and I flinch.
“Are you seriously telling me right now that if I don’t have a girlfriend by next month that you will take away my inheritance?”
Holy. Shit. Lucas is rich. Filthy rich from the sounds of how pissed he is.
“A wife?!” he yells again, the astonishment clear in his tone and that’s when I make my way into the living room, not wanting him to think I’m eavesdropping, even though that is the exact thing I was doing. His eyes catch mine and I step back, the anger apparent as his eyes are shades darker than I remember them being last night.
“Mom, I gotta go,” he says, not waiting for a reply before hanging up and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That sounded like a very happy conversation,” I mutter, walking slowly into the room and leaning against the counter beside him.
“How much did you hear?” he asks, his eyes heavy with the weight of whatever burden is now on his shoulders.
“Enough,” I admit, not wanting him to feel pressure to tell me anything. “I’m guessing you and your parents don’t get along?”
He shakes his head as he pushes himself off the counter and toward the fridge.
“Do you want breakfast?” he asks, our earlier conversation shifting away for the time being and I’m okay with that.
Whatever is going on between him and his mother is none of my business, even though I’m curious as to why he’s so pissed.
“Sure, what do you have?”
He rambles off regular breakfast food and so I ask for bacon and eggs and he smiles.
“A girl after my own heart.”
I don’t know why warmth seeps through my limbs at those words, but it does and it takes me a minute to gather myself.
“So you said last night that you’re a wedding photographer?”
I nod.
“How did that happen?”
I smile, the memory vivid in my brain. “My grandmother remarried when she was eighty.”
Lucas’s eyes widen and a small laugh escapes my throat.
“I know, it was a shock to my family too, but she loved Edgar so much that we couldn’t not celebrate it.”
