Fuck. Don’t check him out!
He’s your husband, the stupid part of my brain whispered.
He’s not! my more rational side screamed. I whipped my gaze to the wall behind him, and tears burned my eyes.
“I don’t remember anything,” I said and my chin wobbled. Goddamn. I was not this girl. I didn’t cry. I didn’t cry when Kurt was banging his bimbo assistant when I showed up at his work twenty minutes early for a lunch date. “I can’t… I remember the drinks. I know we walked toward the Venetian, but after that…”
“Fuck. I can’t be married to you.” He was right. Of course we couldn’t be. Still, a pain whipped through me at his words. He started and must have seen my expression. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I waved him off. “I get it.”
“Lenora and I have only been divorced a few months.”
“I said I get it.” The words came out harsher than intended and I took a step back even though we were so far apart it wasn’t like I had anything to be concerned about.
He hadn’t touched me last night. That I was certain of.
“Shit.” His hands dropped to his hips and his head fell forward, staring at the gleaming wood floor beneath our feet. “This isn’t… I can’t…. Fuck.” He laughed and lifted his head. “I don’t even know what to say. I don’t remember. You don’t remember. I mean, hell, maybe we just fucked around at a jewelry store or something?”
I shrugged. His guess was as good as mine. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
“Maybe that’s all we did.”
“Sure.” Because how could I argue. He could be right, but even as I tried to agree, there was a niggling memory in my mind, like a finger tapping glass, trying to break free. And there was me on the other side, a white dress, a clump of pale pink flowers in one hand. And I was walking…
I shook that out of my head. Wrong. I didn’t get married.
No way.
No how.
“I need food,” I blurted, and Joey’s pale, stunned, and regretful expression changed. Lips kicked at a corner. “I need to piss and shower. But I can show you where the kitchen is?”
At least he’d confirmed we were in his home, not some hotel, although I’d already gathered that. Couldn’t be too sure these days. His bedroom was twice the size of my brother’s. Decorated like it could be a hotel outside the clutter all over the dresser top, but who was I to judge?
I was a shit housekeeper.
“I think I can find it, but um, do you have a pair of pants or something I can wear?”
Outside the clutter on his dresser, there were no clothes on the floor. Especially nothing of mine. Most definitely not Garrett’s jersey I wore last night with jeans. Where in the heck were my clothes?
A pink stain rushed to Joey’s olive-colored cheeks, making me fidget where I stood. He really needed some clothes, too.
His nakedness could distract me when I was running on full throttle. I couldn’t handle him while I was running on empty.
Crap on a cracker. How did I get into situations like this?
Joey moved to his dresser, shaking off whatever thought he had when I asked for pants and set a few things on his dresser.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he muttered, not looking at me.
Once he was gone, I dashed to the dresser, grabbed a pair of flannel pants, pulled them on and tied them around my waist, rolling them several times so I didn’t trip over the length. Dressed, still nauseous, needing caffeine and for someone to walk me through last night, I made my way down his hall to a grand staircase, wide enough for the entire first line of his team to stand shoulder-to-shoulder on. The house was enormous, all of it looking professionally decorated with natural hues and small pops of color that made it feel more homey than bare and cold, but there were few personal touches.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t care about Joey’s house, his life… or I shouldn’t have, but I found my steps slowing once I hit the main level. The tiled floor chilled my feet, but I still gazed around. There were two small sitting rooms, a closed door with glass panes that looked like it led into an office, Joey’s most likely based on the sports jerseys framed on the walls and a few different baseball caps set on shelves. The only personal items in the whole house were in that room I figured, while I found the enormous living room, a vaulted ceiling that was at least two-stories high with wood beams. A ceiling fan hung in the middle, swirling slowly and silently. It did nothing for the airflow, or the nerves pressing down on me.
If we’d done something so ridiculously stupid as to get married, how did we fix it?
He was a good guy, but practically a stranger. I knew him through stories and secondhand information, enough to know he’d been with Lenora for years. And obviously he wasn’t over that…
I can’t be married to you.
He’d spit it so angrily.
I finally found the kitchen beyond the main living area, but it took another minute to find the coffee pot, tucked into a mini kitchen behind his behemoth of a professional kitchen that looked industrial and cold, through a walkway, around a corner, that took me to a smaller area where there was a stainless-steel pot on the counter along with a microwave.
Who in the hell had two kitchens right next to each other?
I shook my head.
Again, who cared?
Joey had to make millions. He was one of the fastest wingers in the league. His parents and family came from money. A dynasty of Taylors whose father had played pro hockey and all four sons followed in his footsteps.
Thankfully, the coffee pot looked simple enough and after a quick search of cupboards above it, I found mugs and more boxes of coffee pods than a grocery store contained. I grabbed one, not bothering to see if it was flavored, desperate for something normal. For caffeine. For something to erase the headache and if possible, the decisions of last night and as it brewed, I explored a little more. Around a different entrance to this mini kitchen, my eyes popped when I found another staircase. Narrowed, more normal, it led straight up to the second floor.
A door behind me showed the garage, four stalls, two empty.
The gurgling sounds of my coffee quieted and I moved that way, slid the coffee mug into my hands, and blew on it before my first sip. As soon as the heat hit my tongue, my eyes closed and a quiet moan escaped.
Coffee. Almost everything I needed to erase this hangover.
I headed back to the kitchen, hearing footsteps sound almost above my head and a few moments later Joey appeared through the mini kitchen and into the eating area where I was seated.
His hair was wet, dark locks swept to the side and he was scratching his beard while thumbing through his phone almost maniacally. I’d never seen fingers move that fast.
My phone.
Where in the hell was my purse?
I set my mug down and the noise must have startled him because his head whipped up. Dark, tortured eyes almost burned my skin with the intensity in his look.
And then he dropped the bomb.
“We are married. I want to stay that way.”
4
Joey
Coffee sputtered from her mouth and her hand that flew to her mouth did nothing to catch it as some of it splattered on my shirt.