For the Record (Wells Family Book 4)
Chapter 1 Adam
Currently playing: Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli
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It was an odd thing to wake up to, long strands of blond hair tickling my neck, and my chest feeling as though an elephant was sitting on it. But alcohol tended to have that kind of effect on people, I guess.
I let my eyes adjust to the sunlight slipping between the closed curtains in my hotel room. The peek of the luminous glow from the sun outside lit the room up just enough to bring back memories of the night before.
My suit pieces splayed out on the floor, my suitcase neatly tucked away in its corner by the dresser, the nightstand next to me, a white and gold lamp on top beside my phone with a dead battery, and finally a small ripped white dress lying right in front of me.
I sat up slowly from the bed, back tensing and pulling, a reminder that there was a reason I didn’t drink anymore. I wasn’t twenty-two and didn’t have the recovery I once had. Each pierce of a headache allowed a new vision into the day before: my messy tumble down the hall, the rush to get to the room as soon as possible. The feeling of finally resting on my chest, the weight of she’s mine heavy in my heart. This cat and mouse chase was over, and she was right by my side.
At the thought of her, my eyes dragged slowly all the way up to the curvy frame lying under the covers next to me. A white comforter pulled up to right below her chin, her round cheeks pulled into a half smile, shut eyes and long eyelashes fluttering slightly in her dream state.
Soul brighter than the sun shining itself, she lay there in my shirt, smiling in her sleep, entirely unaware of my presence. My gut twisted, a rush of cool air racing up my arms and leaving goose bumps in their wake. I was a grown man, one in the military at that. I’d faced situations that would cause most men to hide under their beds. Butterflies shouldn’t be in the pit of my stomach at merely watching a woman sleep. But that didn’t stop them.
It would be a lot easier to neglect that feeling in the pit of my stomach if she was anyone else. If she were a random woman I had picked up on a night out in Vegas. Someone I could spend a night with and forget the next morning before moving on as though nothing had happened. But she wasn’t the type of woman you would do that to. She was the kind of woman that made you forget there were even other females out there. She was the type you held, cherished. The woman you savored and longed for because who knew how long you could keep her. Like the last bite of dessert or the last slow pull of your favorite cigar before it was snuffed out. A bright light in a dark world that I selfishly wanted to keep to myself.
The corners of my mouth tilted up as a tiny puppy-like snore left her swollen pink lips. The covers shifted as she readjusted, and I watched for a moment as her chest rose and fell, my shirt expanding with every breath she took. Hazy memories of the night before began to piece together with every minute passing by. I had offered a clean shirt to her before she passed out. She said no and claimed she wanted the one I was wearing under my suit. Said it smelled more like me. Like a lightning bolt to my chest, I felt this swell of pride. Before that, I walked hand in hand with her from the hotel bar to the elevator. She matched my height perfectly in her heels, leaning over to plant soft kisses along my cheek as the doors slowly shut. The feel of her in my hands, the way she called to me, how…male she made me feel? I was like a gorilla about to beat on his chest or something.
It all felt like a dream I had pieced together in my mind. And if the proof wasn’t lying right beside me, makeup-free face and tousled blond hair across my pillowcase, I probably would have assumed it was a dream. Something my mind fabricated as a torture device to push me through the rest of the day.
My arm lifted to run a hand through my hair. I needed to check the time. Needed to make sure my brothers weren’t blowing up my phone, wondering where I’d ended up last night or who I’d ended up with. But my phone was dead, and since apparently no one needed clocks anymore, the time was nowhere to be found in the room around me. Eyes snagging on the suitcase across the room, I lifted a hand from the sheet and slowly pushed myself up, prepared to walk lightly across the floor and grab my charger.
A small hand reached for mine before I could move, her long white nails softly dragging over the veins in my hand. My breathing sped up, heart pounding against my ribs, butterflies coming back even stronger. I turned my head back to her, expecting a wide-eyed blonde ready to make some cocky remark about oops, we did it again. Instead, I was met with her still sleeping form.
Her fingers laced over mine in the lightest touch. Feminine on top of masculine, soft over rough, purity over corruption. I watched for a moment more, knowing when she woke, we had things to discuss from the last week. Things she and I had been avoiding for far too long now. Things that were bound to hurt, but it was going to be the good kind of pain. The kind you knew made you stronger. Growing pains. I knew it was only a matter of time before they had to be let out. But I wanted this peace, this overwhelming light in my chest, to stay just a little longer.
It was when her fingers fully rested against mine that I looked down and noticed them.
A large diamond ring on her left finger, and a gold band on mine.
My pulse raced violently. The last clear memory I had before I succumbed to my drunken state seeped its way in, like I was getting an outside glimpse of my own life. It was me walking hand in hand with a certain blonde into a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel.
That was when the weight of the night before truly hit me. Rachel and I had gotten married.