“Goodnight.”
I’m too dumbfounded to say anything, my head bobbing up and down as my only response. Then I turn and stagger to my living room before collapsing on the couch. Only then do I exhale slowly, my hand running through my hair.
It figures. The first time I feel Lark’s lips on my skin, she’s so drunk she probably won’t remember it in the morning.
But I sure as shit will.
Chapter nine
Lark
Oh my God. My head feels like tiny elephants are stampeding through it. There’s a blinding light burning the backs of my eyes. My mouth is drier than the desert and feels like it’s full of fluff.
Hangovers are so stupid.
Forcing myself to blink my eyes open, for a minute, I’m confused. Where the heck am I? Then I inhale slowly, the scent of fresh laundry blowing in the breeze as familiar to me as anything.
Dan.
The guys on the team tease him about his obsession with making sure his laundry smells good, but I secretly love it. I don’t need musky, woodsy, whatever. Give me clean laundry smell any day.
I burrow my head in his pillow as bits and pieces of last night come back to me. Drinking with Willow and Sadie, deciding to end my engagement, and then Dan showing up like a white knight to take me home.
Wait.
Did I…
Oh God.
With a muffled groan, I roll over, and spy my phone on the bedside table. Opening it, I check my call log. Yup, there it is, a two-minute call to Dan’s phone. Except, I don’t remember him answering. No, I left him a rambling voice message. And I can’t remember what I said.
Dropping my phone, I yank the covers over my head. Except, all that does is flood my senses with his smell.
Tossing off the covers, I glance down. Crap, I’m wearing his clothes? This is…this is too much. I need to get out of here, get rid of this hangover, and get my head thinking clearly.
Because the one thing my traitorous brain keeps imagining? Is waking up in this bed…
With Dan next to me.
I’m not proud of sneaking out of Dan’s apartment, still wearing his T-shirt, no less. But when I gathered my stuff and walked out to his living room, he looked so peaceful, asleep on his couch. I didn’t have it in me to wake him up.
Not to mention, I wasn’t ready to face him. Not until I figure out what to do about everything.
As soon as I’m home, having taken a taxi back to the restaurant to collect my car, I get in the shower, turning it on as hot as it can go.
That, along with some eucalyptus-scented body wash, helps to clear some of the hangover. And when I step out, I roll on some peppermint and lavender essential oil to deal with thepounding in my head as I get dressed.
First things first. I need to talk to Baron. I don’t feel good about having this conversation while he’s still away, but there’s no way I can wait any longer to end this. It has to happen, and it has to happennow.
I make a cup of coffee and a bagel, then settle in on my couch. Even though it’s still very early here in Vancouver, Baron’s work trip has him on the East Coast, meaning it’s a reasonable hour there.
Sure enough, he answers my video call immediately.
“Hey Lark, what’s up?”
I look at him for a second, trying to find any love in the way he looks at me or in the way he greets me. But there’s nothing there. I suppose the fact that we haven’t spoken — not even a text — in several days is proof that I’m making the right decision. I deserve someone who wants to talk to me every day, who cares about me, my life, my heart. I deserve more than a “What’s up?”
“Hi. How’s your trip so far?”
