Chapter 1 #2
An uneasy laugh left him as he glanced between the bed and me, all while tenderly rubbing at his head.
“Monroe, I don’t think . . . look, I can’t even remember most of yesterday, but nothing about us says we did anything,” he said pointedly, confidently, as he gestured from my clothed body to the wrinkled slacks he was wearing.
Gray’s lack of awareness somehow felt worse.
Not that I’d thought he’d taken advantage of me in my drunken state, but I’d needed to be angry with someone else because none of this was me. At least, not in this way.
Marrying Hudson Gray? Being with the man I’d loved for over a decade?
Yes, those were recurring dreams that lingered with me, long after I woke.
But they were as far-fetched as they were painful because a major part of Gray’s personality was charming women and falling into bed with them, and I just didn’t see that changing.
So, even though verbally and physically fighting had become something of a favorite pastime for us, since he was aware aggression was practically all I’d known growing up, that wasn’t what this was now.
This was taking the fragments of self-loathing, humiliation, and vulnerability trudging through my veins, and forcing them onto Gray, because I’d expected him to remember exactly how and why last night had happened.
Or maybe I’d just hoped he would, because I needed someone to.
But Gray waking up without any memory of the night, talking like this was just another morning, when it was so far from that for me? Yeah, it definitely felt worse.
Like I’d given him me, for nothing.
Gray was suddenly in front of me again, voice dripping with concern as he tipped my head back. “Hey, maybe you should sit—”
“Don’t touch me,” snapped from me as I wrenched my head from his hold and shoved at him again, the abrupt movement making the room momentarily spin before I was able to ground myself.
“Monroe—”
“Explain,” I said through clenched teeth as I finally slanted a glare at him in time to see his worry fade to one of those smiles. A smile that would’ve fooled anyone else, but I knew him. I knew his smiles. And this one was as frustrated as it was placating.
He briefly rubbed at his temple before running his hand through his hair, messing it up further.
“I didn’t—I don’t—” An aggravated and wholly confused laugh bled past his lips as he gave a hesitant shake, like he was trying to figure out a difficult problem.
With a reluctant shrug, he said, “I dunno. Maybe I couldn’t find my room. Maybe you got sick.”
My head was already moving in tight, harsh shakes before he finished speaking. “No. Explain this,” I demanded as I took the few steps to the desk. But just as I began reaching for the paper, my entire body locked up, halting my movements.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt more self-conscious around Hudson Gray than I did then. And, as much as I hated to admit it, self-conscious kind of became my middle name whenever it came to me with Gray.
But he’d never chosen me before, and every part of me was rebelling against letting him know what we’d done—what he’d finally chosen—only because we were wasted.
Unfortunately, I’d already led him to some of the evidence of last night, and within seconds, he was by my side.
“Explain wh—wait, how’d you get that?”
I didn’t respond, just studied his profile as I waited for his reaction.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Seconds later, Gray’s head slanted as he blinked exaggeratedly, conveying the same bemusement still coursing through me.
That vulnerable feeling burned hotter until it felt like it was choking me as I waited for him to do something. Say something.
“Tell me it’s fake,” I begged, silently cursing the waver in my voice. “Tell me I read it wrong.”
“Wait . . .” A small huff tumbled past his lips as they quirked into the barest hint of a smirk, but everything about the sound and the slant of his mouth screamed disbelief.
“That’s, uh . . . that’s—” He reached for the paper but, like me, didn’t touch it as he gave a little shake of his head. “That’s us.”
“It can’t be real,” I claimed, even though there wasn’t an ounce of confidence in my body. “Right?”
Gray’s attention shifted my way, his brow furrowed as he studied me, before returning to the paper. He dragged a hand over his face, lingering as he passed his mouth, his eyes quickly darting over the typed and written words.
The longer he studied the paper, the sicker I felt as the chaotic storm of emotions inside raged stronger and stronger.
Denial, confusion, longing, panic, regret, loathing, shame . . . so much shame.
I’d never understood the whole fight-or-flight response before this morning because the only option growing up had been fight. But I understood it now. I felt it now—that need to run from this and Gray and whatever he was thinking.
And he only knew half of it.
Just as I wondered if he’d let me get away with locking myself in the bathroom, a sigh slipped from him with the words, “Looks real,” and I reacted without thinking.
Swinging for his jaw and clipping the side of his head instead when he tried dodging.
Gray’s face pinched in obvious discomfort, but I needed him to hurt. A need that only grew when he smirked at me through the pain and said, “You know I love when you get violent.”
An infuriated sound tore from my throat. “What’d you do?” I demanded as I swung at him again.
But he was ready that time, gripping my forearm to stop me, leaving my fist just inches from his smirking face.
It only fueled the storm of emotions at once weighing me down and amping me up.
“Me?” He choked out something resembling a laugh as his grip momentarily tightened. “Your signature’s on there too.”
“But I—” Panic and denial unfurled inside me because I had every bit of proof that the events of last night had happened, but this couldn’t be real.
I’d kept my heart from every other man because they weren’t Hudson Gray . . .
I’d kept my heart guarded from him because he had the ability to hurt it, and often did, even if he didn’t know it . . .
But even if I thought I could get the chance to spend the rest of my life with Hudson Gray, I didn’t know if the taunting wraiths clinging to me would let me, because some memories just wouldn’t stay buried.
Wandering hands and forceful touches of men who’d thought they were allowed access to me. Countless taunts informing me I was “too cold and harsh” to ever be considered anything other than “one of the guys.” Gray’s attention catching on every beautiful woman he saw . . .
While some encounters were easy to ignore, others lingered. Being repeatedly told you were unwanted because of the way you were was sure to leave damaging scars on anyone. Having a front-row seat to the man you loved hitting on more women than you could keep track of only added to that insecurity.
“Oh, cheer up, Monroe,” one of the guys I graduated BUD/S with said as the other graduates laughed over the idea of me settling down one day.
“You might make a pretty prop for someone someday.” He made a doubtful face, even as he gave me a heated once-over and raced a hand up the back of my thigh.
“As long as you keep your mouth shut and fists down.”
I broke his nose in response.
“I would’ve never,” I finally continued as I forced the memory from my thoughts, my voice sounding oddly strangled. “I mean, I don’t even remember—and it’s you.”
“Wow, thanks, Princess.” Dull sarcasm laced Gray’s words as he let my arm fall. “Tell me how you really feel.”
My eyes had narrowed as soon as the name Princess left him. But even though a reminder of how much I hated that nickname was on the tip of my tongue, an accusation left me instead. “How could you let this happen?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t,” he said carefully. “Last thing I remember is being at the reception.”
“No, we went to the bar when it ended,” I told him and felt my stomach pitch at the reminder.
I mentally cursed whoever gave me that first drink at the reception before moving on to cursing the bartenders, this stunning resort in general, and drinks that tasted like candy and snuck up on you.
Gray lifted his arms out to his sides, then walked backward to lower himself onto the foot of the bed. “News to me.”
I stilled at the careless words that packed a punch, my mind racing as I thought back to what I remembered of yesterday.
No, that isn’t—he’s lying.
Horror rushed through me when a lump formed in my throat and the backs of my eyes stung like I was about to—no. Just like I didn’t get sick, I also didn’t cry. At least, not in front of anyone. Again, my mom didn’t count.
“Don’t do that,” I bit out, and once again reacted to that storm of emotions threatening to undo me. Grabbing what was closest to me, I launched it at his face.
It wasn’t until the material left my fingers that I even realized I’d grabbed some of our clothes from the desk chair. But as was usual with Gray, he easily caught everything I’d managed to get my hands on.
“Just once could you let something hit you?” I seethed as he let his button down and my stiletto fall to the floor.
But for the first time, Gray wasn’t wearing one of those smug smirks he liked to direct my way whenever he stopped an attempt to hit him.
He wasn’t looking at me at all. He was staring at his hand.
“Don’t act like you don’t remember,” I continued, my voice shaking as I pressed trembling fingers to my aching chest. “I have every reason not to remember last night. But you—I remember the reception and what happened directly after it. You were fine when we went to the bar, so I know you have to remember whatever led to this—” I gestured to the offensive paper resting behind me, but Gray still didn’t look up.
Just as I was about to snap his name, he slowly glanced in my direction, seeming to search for something, before quickly dropping his stare again.