I turn. The bride sits up, blinking blearily, and draws her knees to her chest under the covers. Her hair is even wilder than before, and it startles me into an unexpected smile.
Her gaze sweeps the room as if she, too, needs a minute to remember where she is. When her eyes find me, they go wide, and her mouth pops open in a surprised little O.
She blinks, focusing on my robe.
“You’re alive,” she says. Her voice is raspy, thick with sleep.
“Disappointing, I know.”
She rubs her temple, wincing. I can practically see the memories strobe in her brain. The motorcycle. The argument. The lobby. Me passing out on her carpet.
“How do you feel?” she asks. The bite is gone from her tone, replaced by a genuine concern that catches me off guard.
“Like I lost a fight with a belt sander.” I lean against the window frame, taking weight off my bad leg. “But I’m upright. So, better than I was a few hours ago. Was it Lila who patched me up?”
“Yeah.” She nods, a smile crossing her face. “Your best friend is, well… the best.”
She says it as if they girl-bonded over my unconscious body. Great.
The bride—Pamela? Paige?—looks down at herself, realizing she’s naked under the loose robe. Her cheeks flush pink.
“I need… I’m going to…” She points toward the en suite.
“Go ahead.”
She scrambles out of bed, gathering the robe tight around her generous curves, and sprints to the bathroom. The door clicks shut, the lock turning.
I exhale. The reunion could’ve been worse.
She stays in there for a long time. Long enough for me to wonder if she’s drowning herself in the tub or trying to climb out the ventilation shaft. I wouldn’t blame her. If I could fit in a vent right now, I’d consider it.
When she emerges, breakfast has arrived. The smell of coffee and warm pastries fills the suite, rich and inviting.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“I could use a coffee.”
We settle at the round table by the windows—two strangers in matching white robes, not quite looking at each other. I pour her a cup from the French press, then fill another one for myself. Steam rises between us. Outside, the lake sparkles innocently.
I clear my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “For barging into your room last night. I was delirious. I didn’t mean to put you in such an… uncomfortable position.”
She lifts an eyebrow over the rim of her cup. “Yeah, well. You passing out five minutes after arriving was a pretty big giveaway that you weren’t operating at peak capacity.”
Her humor is dry but not unkind.
“I’m sorry, too,” she adds.
“Ah, well, the leg will heal.”
“Not that. I’m not responsible for your reckless driving.” She winces. “But the entire town thinks we’re married now.”
I scowl into my coffee. “I know.”
“I just wanted a room to sleep in for the night. And I was actually going to pay for it before you tried to throw me out.” She sets her cup down, wrapping her hands around it. “I didn’t want to spread gossip or get you in trouble with your father.”
The comment about my dad is too specific. Lila and her big mouth. She must’ve given her the unabridged version of my complicated relationship with my father.
