But what I cannot deny—what I absolutely cannot forget—is how certain I felt when I leaned closer to him and whispered, “Let’s do it.”
Holy. Shit.
What did I just go ahead and do?
* * *
Logan
I see the moment Macey remembers. Her whiskey eyes widen, and she sucks in her breath. Her expression matches the panic I felt when I woke up this morning and realized, with a sober mind, what we did last night.
I sit frozen with my hands on the steering wheel, ignoring Dave’s yammering about the route.
Macey’s gaze doesn’t leave mine right away. She stares back at me through the rearview mirror.
“Shit.” She covers her mouth with her hand, the left one.
I stare at the ring on her fourth finger and then return my gaze to hers.
“We can undo this,” I mouth to her. “I promise.”
She nods, and the panic recedes from her face and is replaced by a careful, blank expression. Macey’s practical face.
My shoulders relax. One thing’s for sure—Macey and I are still in sync. Even if no one else can understand, we get each other.
