"Fine." I crossed my arms. "Maybe they can send Parker on his own assignment for, say, a week or maybe even a month."
"Since when do you run from a fight? What happened to my badass friend who isn't afraid to take on the world?"
"She went and got herself drunkenly married," I grumbled.
Elle's hand reached across the center console and took mine into hers. "Don't forget the sex."
I banged my head against the headrest. How could I possibly forget about the sex.
"It's going to be okay. We will figure this out one way or another."
I sure as hell hoped she was right, because despite all the foolish things I had done in my life, this was by far the worst. And damn it didn't help that my heart was warring with my brain.
CHAPTER THREE
PARKER
We were on our private jet headed back to Boston after another successful assignment.
"Why the hell do you look so sullen? Don't tell me you drank too much last night and are still hungover?"
If only Rhett knew. Actually it was probably best I did tell him because if I didn't, his wife sure as hell would. Elle and Molly were close. Even closer than sisters and there was no way Molly wasn't running to her best friend and telling her everything that happened.
"I think I fucked up."
"You think or you know? Because those are two very different things." Rhett raised his brow at me.
"I know I did."
Rhett sighed. "Tell me what you did so we can find a way to fix it."
I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out the wedding band I found on my finger when I woke up not too long ago. I didn't even want to think about the used condom I found in the bathroom trash. I could only handle one crisis at the moment.
"Uh, is that what I think it is?" Rhett leaned forward and took the band out of my hand. "Because it sure as hell looks like you got married at some point."
"I did or, at least, I think I did." I rubbed the spot between my brows. "I can't really remember what happened last night."
Fuck, this wasn't like me. I never had drunken sex, and I sure as hell never got married after downing shots.
"And who the hell is the lucky lady?"
At that question, I winced. I knew as soon as I said Molly's name, Rhett was going to want to kick my ass. Rhett loved his wife unconditionally and anything that would cause her distress would piss him off.
"Please don't tell me it's Molly? I know you went to say hi to her but please tell me that's all it was?"
"I can't do that, man."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Rhett spat so loud that the rest of the team––minus Oxford who was flying the damn plane––turned in our direction. "What the fuck were you thinking, Parker?"
"What the hell's going on over here?" Matthew––our team leader––walked over and demanded.
Rhett opened his mouth before I could. "This asshole decided to marry Elle's best friend last night while we were all comfortable sleeping in bed."
I grimaced at the accusation. A small part of what Rhett said hurt. We were supposed to be friends, teammates, and at the first sign of trouble, he was abandoning me.
"Is that true?" Logan joined the conversation and asked. "Did you really get married in Vegas? Who the fuck does that these days?"
"A drunk one, apparently." Rhett rolled his eyes. "That's what happened, right? It's the only explanation for why you can't remember last night."
