Jordan grinned then. “Well, two men named Charles and Chris came to pick up the other ladies and take them home.”
“Oh my God. Please tell me no one was naked.”
He laughed then. “Is that something that happens often?”
“With my friends, you never know.”
“Don’t worry, everyone was fully clothed,” he reassured me. “Though your friend Grier does have a lovely singing voice. She sang several songs I’ve never heard before by a woman she called Deana Carter.”
“Grier sang?” I asked in shock.
“Oh, yes. The rest of you tried to join in until she politely asked you to stop because, and I quote,y’all sound like a bunch of cats in heat.”
I covered my face with my hands. “How many bottles of wine did we drink last night?”
“Only three, but you made a sizeable dent in a bottle of tequila.”
“No wonder I feel horrible.”
“Well, it sounds as if you need coffee. I’ll go brew a pot while you rest.”
“I can get up,” I murmured, cracking open my eyes to look at him.
“No, I think it’s better if you stay in bed,” he insisted, another grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s been a while since I’ve been hungover, but I think coffee and toast in bed might be the best remedy.”
“No toast in the bed,” I replied. “Crumbs.”
“Okay, just coffee for now then.”
“That sounds heavenly. Thank you.”
Jordan put his hands on the bed and leaned over, kissing me in spite of what had to be monstrous morning breath. “Anything. Anytime.”
As I watched him leave the room to make me coffee, I decided I liked the sound of that.
The next morning,I walked into the office with Jordan feeling more like myself. Sunday had turned into a wonderful, relaxing day after my rude awakening from my sister.
After he pampered me yesterday during the throes of my hangover, I insisted on making hamburgers for lunch. I wanted to do something nice for him.
Though I knew he wasn’t a scorekeeper, I worried that I wasn’t making enough of an effort. After years of never dating, I felt as though I’d forgotten how to be a good partner.
I called my sister that afternoon while Jordan went out to run errands. We talked for a while, mostly about the state of my love life, which was a change.
“I can’t believe Dad is the one who told me you got yourself a boyfriend,” Tessa complained. “That’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to call me about after the first date and you realize they’re not a total loser.”
“Well, there’s more to it than that,” I said.
“Like what?”
I told her everything. That it was Jordan who had left me two years ago and what happened when he came back.
When I was done, she was silent for a long moment. Then she said, “He was the guy who broke your heart? And you gave him another chance?”
“I never told him how I felt, Tessa. He didn’t know when he left. If he had…” I trailed off.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on before now? Why did I have to hear it from Dad?”
She sounded hurt and I felt horrible. “I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s been a whirlwind and I’ve been struggling just to deal with it myself, much less explain it to someone else.”
