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He grunted into the pillow wanting Aiden gone.
“I’m gonna get this door opened if you don’t answer.”
Heck!
“I’m alive,” Dante shouted, and gripped his head.
At least the headache he’d woken up with a few hours ago had faded to a dull ache, thanks to the painkillers and water he’d swallowed. Even though he had no recollection of leaving the emergency supplies next to the bed.
“Are you okay in there?” Aiden wouldn’t give up, but he really didn’t expect him to.
“I’ll live.” He flopped over to his back and lay still while he let his stomach settle. “I need a shower first. Go get your breakfast, and I’ll follow you down.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He said yes, but he was sure he was lying. From the way his stomach rolled, he wasn’t sure he could stand the smell of food—he’d drunk too much whiskey last night. What the heck was wrong with him? He liked a drink of the hard liquor before bed, but yesterday at the wedding he’d gone way overboard.
You know why…
He sighed as Emelia popped into his head. She’d been beautiful in her plum colored dress that fitted her like a second skin. It was held up with thin straps and had dipped low in the front. It had taken all his strength to keep his head above her chest, but he was only human and his gaze had wandered there a few times until he’d taken himself to the bar. And now he’d spend the rest of the day suffering.
The shower called to him, and he knew that he’d feel better once he’d been under the warm water; all he needed was the will to move.
While he laid breathing through his nose, the sudden draft that wafted across him gave him pause. His hands automatically went to his groin and that’s when he realized he’d lost his briefs.
His heart froze as he tried to remember last night, but the last recollection he had was of Eric putting him into the car, after that his mind was a blank.
Why hadn’t he kept his briefs on? He usually slept in pajama pants, but he’d never slept in the nude before.
The confusion was annoying as he quickly sat up and dropped his feet to the floor, his head in his hands while he tried not to puke.
As he peeled his eyes open, he spotted his briefs on the floor along with a washcloth.
He groaned because he really couldn’t remember, and he’d obviously been drunk, so who the heck knew his reasoning the night before.
Once he felt that his stomach was settled as best as it was going to be, he stood and made his way into the bathroom and turned the shower on.
After he’d emptied his bladder, he really looked at himself in the mirror. Something was different, he felt...lighter, maybe. He frowned as a memory teased him, but of what, he couldn’t qu
ite grasp.
Perhaps once he felt more himself, he’d be able to remember, or at least think straight.
As he stepped into the shower, it didn’t take him long to wash and wake up some before he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, like any other guy. He wasn’t any other guy though; he was a priest who wished he’d had the sense to pack a couple of his black shirts and collar. At least in uniform, he’d have a much larger barrier between him and Emelia.
He wondered if she’d be at breakfast, or if she’d be suffering because of alcohol like he was. He frowned and hoped she didn’t suffer. The thought of Emelia suffering didn’t sit well with him.
Leaving the room, he ran a hand down his drawn face, and for the first time in his life, he felt his forty-one years.
“About time,” Aiden commented. “Thought I’d have to send a search party after you.”
“Ha ha, funny,” he drawled, without humor.
“You got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Diego frowned, and pulled the chair out beside him.
Without making a big deal out of anything, Dante took the offered seat and tried not to look at Emelia, who he sat next too.
