10. Dolly
10
DOLLY
My head hurts.
Really, really hurts.
The bold, steady throb greets me before I even open my eyes, telling me I don’t want to. Because that’s going to hurt too. Actually, right now there isn’t any part of me that doesn’t hurt.
My pride included.
Because I tried to kiss Hux. And he rejected me.
I think. At least, that’s how I remember last night going. Tequila, a semi decent cover band, and my best friend holding me close in those tattooed arms of his like that was the only place I belonged. I let myself believe it too. So I crawled into his lap and kissed him.
Shit…
The margarita told me it was a good idea. That’s what I’ll claim. If I can make myself open my eyes. Truthfully, that’s a challenge all on its own.
I sneak one eye open, the sunlight muted by the gauzy curtains that are still pulled shut, making this venture a little more tolerable. But only a little.
C’mon, Dolly, time to bite the bullet…and get some coffee…
Reaching out, my hand slides over the cool, smooth sheets of the massive king bed. I’m alone. In this bed anyhow. No telling if Hux is sitting in the room somewhere watching me, making sure that I’m still breathing. Or maybe he got his own room. I can’t blame him if he didn’t want to share a bed with the drunk woman who tried to force herself on him last night.
Or worse, maybe he hightailed it back to Hickory Hills.
No, he wouldn’t do that. Which means I need to get my butt in gear and face the music. The very embarrassing music.
Rejected twice in less than a month. The only silver lining is this one wasn’t in front of the whole town. This one can remain a secret.
Pushing up, I coax my other eye open, rubbing it with the back of my knuckle like I’m a toddler. The throb continues, echoing through my brain, making it tough to focus on any of my surroundings.
Who the hell let me drink like that?
“Mornin’, sunshine.”
Hux’s deep timbre is both the most welcome sound I’ve ever heard and a shock to my system all at the same time. I take a second, letting his words and cadence sink in. He doesn’t sound annoyed. Quite the opposite actually. He sounds amused.
“Hi.”
“How ya feelin’?”
I grunt. That’s a stupid question. The real question right now is if I look as bad as I feel. Glancing down, I discover I did—somehow—make it into my pajamas. Although I won’t lie, I have no idea how. Oh shit, did Hux put me in my pajamas? Fuck, that’s embarrassing.
“I’m not quite sure,” I answer honestly.
“There’s a caramel macchiato on the table next to you.” He nods. “And a plain croissant.”
Sweet, glorious heaven. This man is a god among men.
I reach over for the coffee, the heat from it radiating through the paper cup enough to warm my hand still, and slowly slip. Damn, that’s good.
Still, I can’t bring myself to look up. To look Hux in the eye. Not after what happened. Or what I remember. Shit, what if there’s more?
If there is, I don’t want to know.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, all my emotions swirling together, fighting for top spot, colliding in a mess that doesn’t have a name. Overwhelming—that’s what we’ll call it. And it’s more than enough to make a girl cry. Especially while her head throbs.
“I should get up,” I say, my voice having almost no power to it, warbling from the tears. “Whatever you have planned for today I’m sure doesn’t include me crying in bed.”
I take a big sip of my coffee, savoring it for a moment, the brief interruption to the residual tequila flavor still lingering in my mouth more than welcome, before throwing the sheets off me. The cool air hits my skin, making it pebble, and I instantly regret my choice.
“There’s nothing on the docket that can’t be moved or canceled if you would prefer to stay in.”
“Nope, it’s fine.”
I force myself out of bed, my body aching down to the bones, screaming at me to get back in. I don’t listen though, telling it that a good, hot shower will make things better. It’s a lie, and we both know it, but I push on anyway.
This is how my life is right now. One bad moment after the next. And I need to put it behind me.
“Dolly…”
A shiver rips down my spine. That’s Hux’s warning tone. The one he uses with his brothers when they are about to push a button that they don’t want to push. It’s usually accompanied by a huff, complete with flared nostrils, but unfortunately lacking actual fire breathing.
It’s also never been used to say my name.
“Huxley.”
Walking into the bathroom, I grab my toothbrush, adding a generous helping of toothpaste to the bristles. I have got to make this tequila taste go away. A large, looming shadow falls over me as I brush, Hux’s lumberjack figure filling up the whole bathroom door. He leans against the jamb, arms outstretched across the doorway, making it tough for me to escape.
Fine, he wants to watch me pee, he can…
He wants to make this awkward, I’ll make this awkward. Then maybe he can experience a small piece of the distress I’m feeling. Only without this headache. Because I’m sure Hux was smart enough not to drink his weight in hard alcohol last night.
Ever the gentleman though, he turns around, letting me have a moment of privacy, even if he doesn’t leave me alone completely. I don’t know what he thinks is going to happen to me in here, but he clearly feels the need to be right at my side. Something that is really annoying when the only thing you want is to burrow into the ground and die of sheer embarrassment.
And he hasn’t even mentioned the kiss yet.
“There’s ibuprofen in my case,” he says, back still turned to me as I turn the faucet on to wash my hands.
“Thanks,” I mutter. Ibuprofen is a good call. My head will probably want some of those.
Glancing up, I catch myself in the mirror. Hair tangled and going in every direction, smeared makeup—complete with smudged eyeliner running down my cheek—and more lipstick outside of my lips than on, I look like the definition of train wreck.
That’s all it takes. I crack.
The tears hit me like a linebacker coming at me on my blind side. I don’t see them coming, nor do I bother to try and hold them back. There’s no use. There’s too many, and the wild ride of unnamed emotional vomit inside me needs to come out. Looks like it’s going to come out in tears.
“Hey, hey,” Hux says, rushing into the bathroom and gathering me into his arms.
I don’t move. I continue to lean against the vanity, the faux marble countertop cool against the palms of my hands, Hux’s body warm as it surrounds me, the weird combination of the two keeping me grounded. The tears pick up, my body heaving, the weight of everything all too much.
I’ve never understood how people could say that one day they woke up and didn’t recognize their life. That they wondered how on earth they got here. Well, now I do. Because how did I get here? A jilted bride, crying in the bathroom of a B I’m humiliated.”
I stand back up, this time slower to prevent the head rush, and turn toward the bathroom. It’s my turn to pace, trying to find the words to explain this so he’ll understand.
“You’re not heartbroken?”
I shake my head, pulling my lips into my mouth, fighting back more tears. “No. I know I should be. But, I’m just not?” I shrug. “If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t loved him for a while.”
Hux nods, slowly, face scrunched as he tries to process. “So, I was going to be the man of honor in a wedding where you didn’t love the groom? I was just supposed to watch you walk down the aisle to something other than happily ever after?”
I swallow hard, guilt starting to nibble at me. I hadn’t thought of it that way, and I don’t have a good response, so I simply nod.
“Fuck, Dolly,” he curses, running his hand over his face. I wait for him to explode. I can’t blame him. Except, when he looks back up at me, his eyes are glassy, like he’s the one fighting back tears now. “Was I so bad at my job that you thought you couldn’t come to me with that?”
A pang stabs right into my heart. Fuck, that’s the last thing I want him to think.
“No…no…” I rush over to Hux, slipping my hands in his. We’ve held hands a thousand times over the years, but this feels different. Electric. “I thought he loved me and wanted to get married. And this was my chance at an okay-ish life and?—”
“Okay-ish?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t going to be perfect, I know that. Like, I probably wasn’t going to get my white house with a porch, but…I’d be married, and have babies. Was it settling? Sure, but it was better than not having any of that. And, I’ve already settled in other areas, so what was one more and?—”
“No.”
No?!
Hux drops my hand, pushing past me. I spin around, trying to follow, even more confused than before.
“Hux…”
“No more settling.”
“Hux.”
He grabs his wallet off the nightstand, slipping it in his pocket, then heads toward the door, pausing only long enough to kiss me chastely on the forehead.
“Hux!”
He stops, stalking back inside, pulling his wallet out and handing me his credit card. “Today’s plan was retail therapy. For you it still is. I have something else to take care of. Take this, use it, and abuse it. I’ll be back by five, and I expect to see you in something new, ready for whatever awaits us.”
One more chaste forehead kiss and he’s gone, the echo of the heavy hotel door reverberating through the room. I stand in the same spot for a moment, still dumbfounded, holding Hux’s card.
Maybe it’s the hangover, but my brain is having a hard time figuring out how we got here. And where exactly he’s off to. Although one thing is clear—I’ve been given my marching orders.
And if his declaration from earlier is to be believed, I better make this something worth remembering.