I hit send before I can overthink it. His response comes immediately.
JAX: I love you too. Can’t wait to see you. Sleep well.
I fall asleep with my phone clutched to my chest, a smile on my face, and hope in my heart for the first time in longer than I can remember.
22
SLOANE
Iwake up to the worst hangover of my life. My head is pounding. My mouth tastes like I licked a tequila-soaked ashtray. And there’s a jackhammer somewhere inside my skull doing its best impression of construction work.
“Fuck,” I groan, burying my face in the pillow.
Then the memories hit.
The bar.
The champagne.
The tequila shots.
Oh God, the phone call.
I bolt upright, immediately regretting it as the room spins, and grab my phone from beside me. I scroll through my texts with Jax, my stomach dropping with each message.
SLOANE: I love you.
JAX: I love you too. Can’t wait to see you. Sleep well.
Oh God.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I told him I loved him.
While drunk.
I confessed everything about the business, moving there, and falling in love with him while I was three sheets to the wind.
“Morning, sunshine!” Riley’s voice is way too chipper as she appears with a glass of water and more ibuprofen. “How’s the head?”
“I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. You’re hungover. There’s a difference.” She hands me the pills. “Drink.”
I obey, downing the water and medication while trying not to vomit. “I called him,” I say quietly.
“You did.” She nods.
“I told him everything.”
“You did.” She smirks.
“I said I loved him.”
“You absolutely did. It was very romantic. In a drunk, word-vomity kind of way.” Riley sits on the edge of the couch. “Do you remember what he said?”
“He said ...” I close my eyes, trying to recall through the alcohol fog. “He said he loved me too.”
