If they’d left then, Rocco probably wouldn’t have needed help back to the hotel. But once Carolyn was gone, he went to the bar and came back with a bottle.
Nico wished she could put the day on rewind. It had been such a happy day up until that stupid drinking game. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t admitted to some of the things she had by drinking.
Why did I do that?
Before Carolyn Wickham’s arrival, he’d wanted to end the evening. And she knew why. He wanted to get away from her after learning thethings he did about her. The only reason he was sitting next to her now was because they were staying in the same hotel and he was too drunk to make it back without some help. Celeste had insisted they take the cab together.
Admitting to some of the things she had made her—what?—definitely less than appealing. Possibly even repugnant.
Yes, repugnant.
Sleeping with someone whose name I didn’t know? Calling someone by the wrong name when I was in bed with them? Saying “I love you” to someone when I didn’t mean it?
All things she’d done years ago when she was with Mickey.
Repugnant.
There were other adjectives that came to mind, but for some reason this was the one that stuck—like there was something green lodged in between her teeth, compelling people to turn away at the sight of her.
But he’d raised his glass too. He’d done the same things. Why wasn’t she turning away from him? Why was he allowed to turn up his nose in disgust when he’d done the very same thing?
Allowed?
It sounded strange. But that didn’t seem to matter. It’s the way the world turned. And kept turning. Still, even today.
It wasn’t fair. Why must a woman pay for her past when it seemed a man never had to?
But you already knew that. So why admit to those things?
She couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. She was the only one sitting at that table who wasn’t drunk. She knew how to appear that she was imbibing without in fact doing so. She was as sober as a priest in the confessional.
There’s a part of you that wanted to admit to those things, wanted to admit them to him.
She glanced over at Rocco. He hadn’t moved since he’d tumbled into the cab.
Who had he saidI love youto when he didn’t mean it? That Wickham woman? Something had happened between them. That was obvious.
Still, the man must have loved at some point. Really loved. He had plenty of good examples in his life to look to. She’d met his family onlybriefly in the paddock—his parents, grandparents, and sister. They all seemed lovely, and it was clear they adored him.
And then there was Sofia and Beatrice. Nico sighed, getting a warm and fuzzy feeling; one she’d learned never to allow after her grandfather had died; a feeling she’d reserved only for Charles and Templeton.
Charles is right. There is some kind of perverted psychology at work in my brain. Why admit to those things? Now he knows things about me.
He knows things.
Thinking about those things, she cringed.
She’d been handcuffed. In bed. He must be thinking she’s a sexual deviant. Better that than the truth.
Maybe if she’d just stopped there, she might not feel like the earth was shifting beneath her feet, and at any moment it might split and she would fall into a dark hole that had no end.
At this rate, she wouldn’t have to wait for Mickey to expose her past.
She glanced over. His lips were slightly parted, strands of his hair brushing his shadowed cheek. It was true, he pouted. She could see the child in him now. She could see it when he’d told her that story about when he fainted. When they’d talked about GoGo squeeZ.
And she could see something else.
She could see herself falling for him.
