Page 3 of Tainted Tempos

She nods. Her neutral expression slips, and a cocktail of emotions—fear, disappointment, regret—washes over her face. “Mav, last night was a mistake. I don’t…” She shakes her head. “I don’t have one-night stands. Or random hookups. I don’t lose control like that.”

Her words bowl me over.

One-night stand. Random hookup.

Is that all she thinks I am? Is that what I mean to her?

I mean, yeah, our relationship started off as a fake arrangement. But now…after the past few months and Christmas, I thought at the very least our friendship was unshakeable. That we were operating from a foundation fortified with trust and sincerity.

I’d hardly consider myself random.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault,” she rushes out. “We both got caught up in the moment. And I’m sure it was great, you know, the sex,” she fumbles.

But she doesn’t fucking remember.

Nausea swims in my gut again, making me feel like I’m on a boat, adrift at sea, in the middle of a category-five hurricane.

I feel sleazy. How did I not realize how drunk she was? How does she not recall how in sync our bodies were? Our laughter and our promises.

Our night together wasn’t clumsy and fumbling. It was fucking poetry. Song lyrics. Music of the soul.

And she’s sure it was something as generic asgreat? God, that hurts. Scrapes and burns and cuts me up like fucking ribbons.

Random and great.She’s fumbling through this the best way she knows how—with a degree of grace and compassion for my sake. Not for hers. Even now, she’s trying to let me down easy.

A knock sounds on the door, and I jump up, relieved by the interruption and desperate for the coffee.

The slight hangover I had this morning morphs into a full-blown migraine from the shattering disappointment, the crushing guilt I feel. Glancing at Mckenna, I realize she feels even worse. That realization only intensifies my remorse over putting her in this messed-up position.

Why did I allow this to happen?

The server who rolls in the cart with the trays piled high looks between us, an excited and expectant look on his face. His smile slips as he takes in our forlorn expressions.

Understanding that he walked into an awkward conversation dawns and he quickly removes the lids of our meals and dips back out.

“Even the server knows,” Mckenna worries.

“The whole fucking world knows, Mckenna,” I snap, my anger at myself momentarily redirecting toward her. “You announced, on a stage, that you love me.”

She winces.

“You really don’t remember that?” I ask softly. It was one of the best moments of my life. A high I’ve only ever experienced on stage. Or after cocaine.

Mckenna’s eyes flick to mine. Slowly, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Mav. Truly.” She sounds...haunted. “I don’t remember much about last night.” She holds up her hand and stares at the ring. “I can’t believe we got married.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “And now, we’ll have to get an annulment.”

She sucks in a breath, her eyes flying back to mine.

“I mean, obviously, since—” Another knock at the door cuts me off. “Fuck,” I yell, striding toward the door. Grasping the handle, I pull it wide open. “Now isn’t a good time,” I announce to whoever is on the other side.

Allegra’s worried expression, Jameson’s hulking frame, and Derek and Levi’s carefully neutral postures greet me.

“No fucking kidding, mate,” Levi murmurs.

“Kenny!” Allegra ducks under my arm and hurries into the suite.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch my girl—wife—crumple into her best friend’s embrace.