Wrong.
Because, along with the underwear that didn’t at all feel like the underwear I’d worn for the wedding, there was a very distinct and unfamiliar ache between my legs.
My stomach churned and my chest pitched, faster and faster, as my thoughts spun.
There was no way I’d given Hudson Grayeverythingduring a night I couldn’t even remember. And yet, all signs pointed toyes. Yes, I had.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever hated myself more.
I kind of hated Gray too, because he knew—heknew—I’d never been with anyone. Not that he knewwhy, considering he’d been the core of my reasoning.
That kind of intimacy had always been such a taboo subject in my family, that I’d never given it—or the idea of saving myself—much thought until I’d met Gray. Once I’d truly gotten to know him and fallen for him, I’d known that if I ever gave myself to someone, it would be him, or no one. Considering I’d watched him ogle every other woman for the past decade, it’d been fairly obvious it would end up beingno one.
And yet . . .
My unsettled stomached twisted for so many reasons as I tried swallowing the loathing and shame building and building as I unsteadily moved through the hotel room. Doing everything to avoid looking at the bed again, I shakily dressed in a pair of spandex, athletic shorts and one of my own oversized shirts.
I fought the urge to curl my arms around my stomach as that ache flared, mocking me with what I’d done—whatwe’ddone—in our too-inebriated state.
Or, at least,mine.
Gray wasn’t the type of person to have more than one drink during any setting—none of the Shadow members were. Most of them hardly drank at all, in case there was an unexpected situation where they needed clear heads. On the other hand, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had alcohol before the reception yesterday afternoon.
Keeping my steps silent, I moved back to the desk, where the rest of our clothes from the day before were carelessly scattered, and dropped Gray’s shirt as if it had burned me. The material landed on top of the bridesmaid dress Lainey had somehow forced me into, where it was lazily slung over the desk chair.
Embarrassment swept through my veins and pricked at the backs of my eyes as I wonderedhowI’d let this happen. Wondered how haphazardly discarded clothes in my hotel room had become a reality.
My stilettos were half hidden on the chair by the button down all the groomsmen had worn. Gray’s shoes and socks were tossed messily against the desk itself. The necklace and earrings Lainey had given to me and her sister for being in the wedding were just as hastily tossed across the desk and an open paper with trifolds.
And all of it screamed what’d happened last?—
One of my eyebrows ticked up, making my headache hyperfocus on that spot on my forehead, when I noticed the large, script words beneath the necklace.
Reaching for the thick paper, unexpected relief clashed with unnecessary dread as I wondered who thought it would be a good idea to give me Briggs and Lainey’s marriage certificate for safe keeping. Not only had Briggs’ sister and best friend bothbeen there—along with Lainey’s entire family—but I also didn’t remember much of anything after the reception.
I couldn’t imagine why I’d been entrusted with something so important when I hadn’t even been able to be trusted with myself.
I set the paper back on the desk just before a sharp inhale tore down my throat when the signatures at the bottom caught my eye.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
My stare darted over the paper again and again, disbelief pulsing through me, because the names didn’t sayAsher BriggsandLainey Pearson. They saidHudson GrayandMallory Monroe.
Our names. Our signatures.
On an officiant-signedCertificate of Marriage.
A wave of dizziness and disbelief crashed over me. “How did this happen?” I whispered to the otherwise silent room before the pounding in my head shouted the answer.
Thanks, alcohol.
Some foreign, vulnerable feeling crept through my veins like poison as I worried over something else entirely for the first time since waking: what I might’ve revealed to my best friend in my drunken state, before remembering this wasHudson Gray.
A guy who would probably propose to anyone, if only to get an obnoxiously flirty laugh and the interest of whatever girl he set his sights on then, because what sane girl would sayyesto a stranger? Unfortunately for my heart and his perpetual bachelorhood, he’d proposed to the one person who’d been painfully, hopelessly in love with him for far too long.
And then I’d given him everything . . .
