“We did.”
I pause… then peek at him through my fingers. “You sound very sure of that.”
“I remember enough,” he says.
My stomach flips. “Enough?”
His gaze meets mine again. Darker now.
He’s not embarrassed, I realize. That might be worse.
“What do you remember?” I ask carefully.
He studies me for a second. Like he’s deciding how much to say. “Enough to know I’m not forgetting it.” His voice drops on the last word.
He isn’t joking or embarrassed. Honestly, the only way I can describe his voice—his look—is certain. And somehow that makes all of this so much more confusing.
His thumb brushes his own mouth, like he’s remembering something.
“You laughed,” he says quietly. Like it meant something to him.
My breath catches.
“What?”
“Last night.” His gaze flicks to me. “Right before you kissed me.”
My breath catches.Oh. That’s… that’s not helping.Not one bit.
It’s making it worse.
I drop my hands, staring at him.
“We got married,” I say slowly, like repeating it might wipe the whole night away.
“Yeah.”
“And then we?—”
“Yeah.”
I swallow. Hard.
Silence settles between us. Heavy.
I look down at my hand again. At the inked ring, feeling the faint soreness all over again.
“This was supposed to be a bad decision.” I press my fingers to my temples.
His brow lifts slightly. “Pretty sure it still qualifies.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I shift, pulling the sheet tighter around me.
“This was also supposed to be something I could walk away from. My last hurrah.”
Something easy and reckless. Something that wouldn’t matter in the morning. But that was before tattoos, scorching memories, and a naked firefighter who doesn’t look like he’s ready to dart for the door.
“Last hurrah?” he asks. “Before what?”
