His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Ididn’t,” he said carefully. “Last thing I remember is being at the reception.”
“No, we went to the bar when it ended,” I told him and felt my stomach pitch at the reminder.
I mentally cursed whoever gave me that first drink at the reception before moving on to cursing the bartenders, this stunning resort in general, and drinks that tasted like candy and snuck up on you.
Gray lifted his arms out to his sides, then walked backward to lower himself onto the foot of the bed. “News to me.”
I stilled at the careless words that packed a punch, my mind racing as I thought back to what I remembered of yesterday.
No, that isn’t—he’slying.
Horror rushed through me when a lump formed in my throat and the backs of my eyes stung like I was about to—no.Just like I didn’t get sick, I also didn’t cry. At least, not in front of anyone. Again, my mom didn’t count.
“Don’t do that,” I bit out, and once again reacted to that storm of emotions threatening to undo me. Grabbing what was closest to me, I launched it at his face.
It wasn’t until the material left my fingers that I even realized I’d grabbed some of our clothes from the desk chair. But as was usual with Gray, he easily caught everything I’d managed to get my hands on.
“Justoncecould you let something hit you?” I seethed as he let his button down and my stiletto fall to the floor.
But for the first time, Gray wasn’t wearing one of those smug smirks he liked to direct my way whenever he stopped an attempt to hit him.
He wasn’t looking at me at all. He was staring at his hand.
“Don’t act like you don’t remember,” I continued, my voice shaking as I pressed trembling fingers to my aching chest. “I have every reason not to remember last night. But you—Iremember the reception and what happened directly after it. You werefinewhen we went to the bar, so I know you have to remember whatever led to this—” I gestured to the offensive paper resting behind me, but Gray still didn’t look up.
Just as I was about to snap his name, he slowly glanced in my direction, seeming to search for something, before quickly dropping his stare again.
And then he was moving. Quickly shifting off the bed to search the nightstand before he knelt on the bed, tearing through the tangled sheets and pillows like a man possessed.
My heart skipped painfully.
My lungs protested the lack of oxygen as I waited for him to make that final connection that I so desperately didn’t want him to make.
When he just continued in his search, I made my way around the bed and cautiously asked, “Gray?”
He didn’t respond, and he didn’t stop, until he went suddenly, alarmingly still. With a heaving sigh, he let the pillow he was holding fall as he roughly sat back on the bed, hands lifted to inspect the small objects in them.
Dread filled me, even though I couldn’t see what he was holding. But I could seehim, and I’d seen his reaction. That told me enough. “What is that?”
Silence met me once again. I honestly wasn’t even sure Gray was hearing me with how intently he was staring at his hands.
Just as I shifted to get a better look, he took one of the objects and carefully slid it onto the third finger of his left hand.
A ring.
Identical to the other still pinched between his fingers.
As ridiculous as it was, bewildered relief slammed into me before horror slowly crept through my body. Because I’d been afraid Gray had been holding evidence of what we’d done. I’d been afraid there’d been some sort of proof, likeprotection.
But there hadn’t been.
At all.
That horrifying feeling like I might cry and be sick rose up all over again as my stare fell to the floor. Not that I was seeing the floor or my feet or the room. I was replaying this nightmare of a morning over and over again, sure it was just that—a nightmare.
Force it back, Mallory. Force it back.
I took slow, deep breaths and tried to do what I’d always been told to—force every emotion that was surging through my veins back. But the reality of last night kept slamming into me, making my eyes burn and my throat tighten as my chest wrenched.
