Page 3 of About That Rule

And it was not looking good.

SEARCHING THE HOTELroom, there was nothing—not one single piece of evidence to confirm what seemed likely to have happened based on the pictures. His hangover was actually better than the anxiety pulsing through him. He took a deep breath. His imagination was getting the better of him. If Samantha wasn’t freaking out, he wasn’t going to freak out.

There was nothing to worry about.

All he had to do was see Samantha, then they’d laugh it off.

With much more pep in his step than he’d had earlier, he got in the elevator and made it to where his friends were for brunch in ten minutes. All their parents were on a tour of the Hoover Dam, so it was, as his mom, Natalie, put it, “just the kids” spending time together.

“Look who made it,” Elena joked when he joined the table. Everyone was there, except Charlotte and Rafe. No one had seen them leave their hotel room since their marriage announcement.

Maybe there was one reason to get married.

He almost gagged.

Marriage was not for him. Not even if there was sex on the regular. He could get that now without having to be a husband or have a wife.

“Thank god you look like shit,” Samantha mumbled, patting the chair next to her so he could sit down.

That Samantha’s biggest concern was having a partner in crime for their shared hangover was reassuring. There were no signs of what the hell did we do last night—which was promising. Nothing seemed wrong other than their previous alcohol consumption. Nate let out a breath of relief. There wasn’t any awkwardness either.

Everything was fine.

When he showed her the pictures from last night, they would laugh about it. She probably had pictures on her phone too. Nothing was wrong.

“What did you guys do after I left last night?” Jason asked, having the nerve to drink a mimosa. How he managed his lifestyle was beyond Nate.

“Just partied.” He kept it brief. A small, minuscule part of him still wanted to talk to Samantha before laughing off what happened. He couldn’t shake that last night was a bigger problem than he was giving credit.

No one badgered him for more details as everyone made plans for the rest of the day. Slowly, everyone started to leave. Elena and Gabriella went shopping to find a unique wedding gift. Noah, the ever-dedicated soccer player, went to the gym. After texting with a stupid grin on his face, Jason left.

“And then there were two,” Samantha said. Empty water glasses were littered around her on the table. “I swear, if Oliver surprises everyone and shows up for vacation, I’m not celebrating. I know it’s been years since we’ve seen him, but I can’t handle another drink right now.”

Oliver Bolton was the last member of their pack. He was the eldest at thirty-six and had lived in London since college. He’d been supposed to make an appearance for this trip, but something with work came up.

“Did you have fun last night?” Nate treaded lightly. Like he was nervous about her response. Like maybe his gut reaction was right. Like last night changed things.

She gave him a small smile. “From what I can remember, last night was wild.”

Fuck.

She didn’t remember everything either.

“Wild—good wording.”

“Why are you acting weird?”

Nate was going to try another approach. “Have you looked through any of the pictures from last night?”

Samantha let out a small chuckle. “Why, are they posted all over the internet or something?”

Shit, he hoped not.

“No, on your phone. Do you have pictures on your phone from last night?” He spelled it out for her. His efforts to get her to look at the pictures, if she hadn’t already, was exhausting.

She shook her head. “I’ve used my phone three times today—and all were to text you. Looking at my screen hurts. I can’t party like I used to.”

Looking at his screen hurt too, but for completely different reasons.

“Do me a solid and look through your phone. Tell me if you have pictures from last night. I don’t remember everything either, but maybe we can piece together a story.”

She huffed but grabbed her phone and started swiping through. When her jaw dropped, it was the first sign things were as bad as he’d anticipated. When she muttered, “Fuck,” it confirmed it.

“Nate, what the hell?” Her voice didn’t sound as exhausted now. She was on edge, just like him.

“Maybe we did it as a joke. Like, let’s just take pictures to be funny because of Rafe and Charlotte.”

Samantha took a deep breath. Her leg started to shake under the table. “Maybe.”

Neither one of them spoke, but Nate guessed they were both thinking the same thing.

Who the hell got married as a joke?