He’s going to find out.
What I need to concentrate on is damage control. Archer and I are the only two people on the planet who need to know we had sex. He’ll keep quiet. Won’t he? If anyone finds out, there will be a shitstorm of epic proportions.
Fuck.
Why couldn’t I keep my dick in my pants that night?
I can’t change the past, but I can control the future.
I’ll find Archer. Explain everything to him and beg him not to breathe a word to anyone.
Ever.
Honk.Honk. My taxi is here. I take a deep breath. I can do this.
Oh, fuck, no, I can’t.
I grip the edge of the sink. I’m going to hurl. Better here than in the taxi. If I wait long enough, the driver will go. It’s pre-paid. They won’t lose out.
Honk.Honk.
Go away. Please go away.
HONK!
My phone buzzes. The driver’s text tells me they’re outside. As if that wasn’t obvious. On the way out the door, I grab my keys and wallet.
I slide into the back seat. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Where to?”
“Weetwood Hall.”
“Nice place that. Great for weddings. Is that why you’re going?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s the happy couple?”
Great, a chatty taxi driver. Couldn’t I have got a sullen, silent one?
“My dad and his new wife.”
“Is it an evening wedding?”
“No. Just a reception. They got married in Vegas.”
“Ah, that explains it. No son would miss their dad’s wedding, right?”
Wrong.
“No plus-one?”
“No.”
“There tends to be plenty of single people at weddings. I’m sure you’ll meet someone.”
Please shut up.
