“An explanation would be nice,” I prodded.
“Fine. You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you.” He dropped his arms and turned to face me again, this time, his cheeks red and his gaze filled with a painful amount of regret. “You had left your sweater thing that went to your dress downstairs. I went to bring it up to you and found you drinking alone in your room. You invited me in, and we drank some more together. I had no idea how much you’d consumed before I got up there. I also had no idea the reason you were drinking, which you later revealed was because you were upset over that douchebag you were dating before prom.”
I’d forgotten all about being sad, or why I’d gotten inebriated to begin with. But now that he mentioned it, I recalled going back to my room to sulk in the depressing thoughts of forever being alone, being a virgin until the day I died, and no one ever wanting to marry me. Pathetic, but at the time, my adolescent, melodramatic fears were completely valid. I was eighteen, had just gotten my heart broken for the first time, and had watched my brother get married to the love of his life. Which meant I was officially the only Brewer child who wasn’t married, and it all kind of hit me at once. Rather than take a step back and look in the mirror, if nothing more than to remind myself that I was only eighteen years old and on the verge of taking my first step into personal freedom by going off to college, I threw myself an over-the-top pity party and indulged a little too heavily in the small bottles I’d swiped from Matt’s reception.
“And then what happened? Did we go anywhere?”
He sucked his teeth for a second, as if either trying to remember the night or figuring out how to tell me. If only he knew it wasn’t a secret, then maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to tiptoe around it. “I talked you into getting out of the hotel room to get some fresh air, so we took a walk along the strip.”
“Where did we go?”
“We watched the fountains in front of Bellagio, made out in front of a mime, held hands while walking the streets of Italy inside the Venetian, and then hung out with Elvis before heading back to the hotel. We went to your room, where you started to strip before we even made it through the door. You refused to take it slow and promised me you were ready.” Anger ignited every word, but I could tell he wasn’t pissed off over the actual events. No. What made him mad was his bruised ego over the fact I couldn’t remember. It was obvious in the way he reminded me of that forgettable night.
But what he didn’t know was how it angered me to listen to him. To hear about that night. Because that was the last night I’d had with him, and ever since then, a shattered heart resided in my chest. All because of Holden York. Giving in and listening to how I promised him I was ready did nothing but upset me. Even though I couldn’t remember it, I knew it was true. He was the only guy I had ever wanted, and being here, listening to this, was nothing more than a reminder that he had never felt the same.
“You held my face, looked me square in the eyes, and told me it was what you wanted, and you’d never regret it. I asked you how drunk you were, which you said you were tipsy but knew exactly what you were doing.” He shook his head and released a huffed, humorless chuckle. “I believed you. Only to wake up the next morning and feel like a fucking jackass.”
There were so many things to tackle, but I had to take it one thing at a time. If I tried to get answers for everything at once, I’d only get sidetracked and end up with nothing—it was a horrible habit of mine. “If you knew I was upset about Justin, why were you so willing to sleep with me? Were you just that desperate to get in my pants?”
I thought I had him. I really thought this would get him right where I wanted him. The perfect setup for when I let him know I was aware of this secret marriage. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened. He sank back into the cushion and leaned forward with his head in his hands.
“Believe what you want, Janelle, but I wasn’t desperate to get into your pants. In fact, it very much seemed like the other way around.” He dropped his hands and locked his stormy gaze on me, effectively trapping me in my seat, in my head, unable to do anything until he finished speaking. “You are the one who attacked me in the elevator when we got back. And again in the hallway on the way up to your room. My plan was to get you back into your room safe and sound. You were the one with a different agenda.”
“You make it sound like I begged you. Like I threw myself at you.” I tossed my head back and squawked out a humorless laugh, but my insides didn’t react with the same indifference. My lower belly quickened and a flush of heat rippled through my body. I tried not to imagine doing those things with him—to him—but the sexy visions flashed through my mind, anyway. Me attacking him, hungry for him, kissing him, making love with him… Oh, God. “Not to mention, if I did, it would’ve only been because I was so upset. Which brings me back to my question. Why would you sleep with someone who’s crying over their ex? Seems rather pathetic. I mean, you could have anyone you wanted…”
I gritted my teeth, furious at myself for saying that last part. I should’ve left it at “pathetic.” Now I was the pathetic one. But to my surprise, he didn’t even acknowledge the blunder.
“I didn’t know you were upset about him until we were in bed. After the last time. I have no idea what time it was, but it had to’ve been around four or five in the morning. We were naked, sated, and about to drift off when you opened up about the reason you were upset in the first place, about thinking you weren’t good enough.”
The urge to run and hide was strong, but so was my determination to get answers and a divorce, so I could cash my fifty-thousand-dollar check and be on my merry way. “Let me get this straight…you come up to my room, see that I’d been drinking, partake in more drinking with me, then we go for a walk, come back, to which I throw myself at you and practically beg you to deflower me. We do our thing, and just before we drift off, I confess to feeling unwanted, and then what? We cuddle and fall asleep?”