Page 108 of Mine Again
It’s more like something I’d have chosen for myself.
I flex my fingers a few times, and a dull ache stirs. I know I’m not used to wearing a ring, but should it be like that?
Hmm, probably just something I need to get used to.
The sound of running water filters into my awareness again, and Iturn my head toward it.
The shower is still going. Good.
I’m not sure I’m ready to face my husband right now. Maybe not ever.
I sit up slowly, and my head immediately protests. A throb pulses through my skull, and I press my fingers to my temple with a hiss.
I really shouldn’t have drunk all that champagne.
Beside the bed, a small bottle of water waits on the nightstand, along with two ibuprofen tablets.
I take them both, swallowing hard, before chasing the bitter taste with half the bottle. Cool water slides down my throat, clearing the lingering haze.
I glance around the room.
It’s large, clean, and strangely homey.
The quiet luxury is familiar, but the details are off.
Softer lighting. A different scent in the air. Cooler colors.
Am I in Sebastian’s room in our suite at the Waldorf? How is his so different from mine?
Where are the soft gold tones, the plush velvet accents, and the skyline view I remember from my side of the suite?
I look out the large floor-to-ceiling window… and freeze.
Pine trees. Stretching far and wide, dense and green, brushing the edges of a pale morning sky.
There’s nothing else.
No buildings. No roads. No signs of Vegas.
Only forest. And the sea in the far distance.
This isn’t right at all.
Why are there pine trees? Why is the sea there? I’m meant to be in the desert.
I shift to the edge of the bed and get out, my skin prickling as I scan the room again, more deliberately now. My heart ticks faster.
The water sounds stop… the shower is turned off.
The bathroom door is still closed, steam curling from beneath the frame.
I take a step backward, staring at it, my breath caught.
A soft click sounds. The handle turns.
The door opens.
My eyes land on a white towel slung low around a waist. They travel higher, over exposed skin, up to the swirl of butterflies inked across it.
