You know it’s going to be a bad one when your head is throbbing and you’ve not even lifted it off the pillow. And your body hurts when you try to move and get comfy in your bed. And your mouth is dryer than the driest desert, but you can’t figure out if you’d prefer to remain unmoving and poke up with the dehydration, or attempt to get to the kitchen in search of water and risk throwing up on the way. This is a bad one. Maybe the worst I’ve ever had, and that’s an achievement since I’ve not even got up yet.
I groan and attempt a stretch, hissing as I lengthen my body, spreading myself out in search of a cool patch. I peel my eyes open, my nightstand coming into view, a glass of water sitting waiting for me. And propped up against it, a note saying, “Hydration.” I frown and sit up, spotting two pills on a note that says, “Pain relief.”
What on earth? I still and try to think back to last night. Oh God. I slowly cast my eyes over my shoulder, cringing as I do, bracing myself for what I might find.
What’s spread across my bed gives me a fucking heart attack, and I bolt upright, immediately grabbing my head for fear that it might fall off. I hiss and wince as I fall back to the mattress, unable to give the seriousness of my situation the attention it deserves in my feeble state. “Jack,” I moan, throwing my leg out to kick him. What have I done?
He groans but remains on his back, and my eyes take a greedy roam down his naked body, arriving at his cock. There’s a note there, too. “Breakfast.”
“Jack!”
His lashes flutter and his lids open, revealing deep gray pools of adorable sleepiness. “Morning,” he rasps, not in the least bit perturbed by seeing me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, starting to panic for both of us.
His hand comes across and rests on my hip. Which is naked. “How’s your head?”
“Confused,” I admit, pulling away from him before his touch has a chance to scramble my mind further. He looks down to my hip, now free of his hand, and back up to me. “We didn’t…” I wave a finger between us, trying my hardest to pull some memories out of my beaten brain. “You and I, we didn’t—”
“No,” he says quietly, almost apprehensively.
I’m relieved, but I still don’t know why the hell he’s in my apartment. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t answer my messages or calls.”
“So you thought you’d break in?”
“I didn’t break in. I found you plastered trying to unlock your door when I came to talk.”
I swallow down my anger and push myself to the edge of the bed. “I have nothing to say to you.” Taking a deep breath to push away the dizziness, I rise to my feet. I spend a few precious seconds ensuring I’m not going to face plant, then make my way to the kitchen in search of water, abandoning the one Jack kindly laid out for me in my need to abandon him.
“Please leave, Jack,” I call.
I make it to the kitchen and turn the tap on, running it while I collect a glass. I glug back two pints of water on the bounce, ravenous, before slamming my glass on the drainer and pivoting to leave the kitchen. Brushing past him as I exit is unavoidable when I find he’s blocking the doorway, and as soon as our skin connects, I gasp, my pace faltering. But I fight myself to keep moving.
I don’t get very far. Jack’s hand shoots out and claims my wrist. “Don’t do this,” he practically growls, squeezing his hold. “Don’t you dare, Annie.”
I wrench my arm free, my teeth gritting hard. But I don’t say anything. My seething expression must say it all. I glare at him as I walk away, my jaw aching from the pressure of clenching my teeth.
“Annie!” Jack shouts, his bare feet thumping the wooden floor as he comes after me.
“Get out.”
I push my way into my bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it. In an instant, his fists are banging on the wood. But I ignore them, flipping the shower on. After scrubbing my teeth to within an inch of their life, I get in the shower and scrub the stench of stale alcohol away. He has no right to be here. He may not have taken advantage of me, but he took advantage nevertheless.
I start shampooing my hair roughly, blocking any thoughts and questions from muscling their way into my achy mind. After rinsing and washing down, I step out, grabbing a towel from the towel rail, listening for movement beyond my bathroom door. There’s nothing.
As I dry off and throw a T-shirt on, I mentally plan my day. I need to revise some drawings. Maybe I could take Micky up on his offer and squeeze a run in. It could be a good stress alleviator. I should call the girls, too, to see if they’re in any better shape than I am. And I mean hangover-wise. Not fucked-up married-man-wise.
After towel-drying my hair I flip my head up, just as the door flies open, the lock jumping off the wood. I swing around, finding Jack in the doorway. “Get out!” I shout incredulously.
“No.”
I spin away from him, doing everything I can to avoid meeting his eyes in the mirror, knowing I mustn’t risk being hauled into their burning depths. It’s not a battle I can win. An invisible force pulls my stare to his in the reflection. My spine lengthens. He’s just there, no expression and no movement, but it makes no difference to my uncontrollable reaction to him. Reactions I shouldn’t have. Reactions I can’t help.
“Your wife,” I say. “She doesn’t deserve this.” No woman deserves this, no matter what. I’ve encountered her only a few times, seen her behavior and heard the rumors, but it still doesn’t make this right.
His nostrils flare as he scans my face for a few thoughtful moments, maybe considering what a selfish arsehole he’s being. What an awful situation he’s putting me in. “Don’t think you’re destroying a perfect marriage, Annie. You’re not.”
“It’s still a marriage,” I mumble meekly. “Perfect or not, I have no place in it.”
“That’s not true. You do have a place in it, because you are the only thing that can save me from it.”
I feel my brow furrow. “Save you from it?”
A small smile crosses his handsome face. “Stephanie is…” His words die as he evidently struggles to piece together what he wants to say. “Volatile.” He sighs. “Our marriage is over. I know it, she’s knows it, but she refuses to accept it.” Jack shakes his head and squeezes his eyes closed, the frustration clear. “I can’t live like this anymore, Annie. There’s no going back for me.” Opening his eyes, he levels a determined stare on me. “I don’t want to find a way back again. Especially now. Especially since I met you.” He shakes his head a little in frustration. “See me again,” he orders quietly.
“Are you crazy?” I ask, dumbfounded. I’ve already spent limited time with Jack, and it feels like I’ve known him for years. Adding any more hours to our time together would be monumentally stupid. I’ve been stupid enough already.