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Again—step one in figuring all this out, is finding my partner-in-horrible-decision-making from last night. But after creeping through this entire house, I realize that Harry is nowhere to be found.
I should probably find the bathroom. I really need to pee. And to wash my smudged makeup and the horrified shock off my face. Some toothpaste wouldn’t hurt, either. There’s the radioactive taste of death burning my tongue and melting my gums this very minute. My breath must be awful.
I stumble back into the bedroom to search for my phone. That’s when I notice a glass plate on the nightstand closest to what I’ve determined to be my side of the bed.
Harry left me breakfast. A sliced banana that has now turned brown, together with some dried fruit and a glob of dried-out nut butter. Next to that is a protein bar and a sealed bottle of Gatorade. Why does that make my heart tingle?
As ridiculous as this ‘breakfast’ is, he could have chosen to leave me with nothing. But he didn’t.He cares. And he’s a man with good intentions.
Peeking out from under the Gatorade, I find a handwritten note on the back of an envelope. The note’s to me. From Harry.
Hey—
Wish I could have stayed until you woke up. But home game tonight. So, team meeting and all that jazz. Sorry.
Later,
H.
I read it twice before setting it back down. Okay. Home game. Team meeting. That’s why he’s gone. That’s why he left so early. Reasonable enough.
So what’s with the uneasy knot in my stomach telling me there’s something more going on? That note just doesn’t sound like…Harry. It’s too casual and aloof. It definitely doesn’t sound like Harry.
I try to shake the feeling, rising to my feet, positively certain I’m still dreaming.
“Don’t get weird, Nadia. He’s working. He’s gone to work. Relax.” I crack the Gatorade open and take a small sip before setting it back on the table.
None of this is actually real. This is just a nightmare inside a nightmare. I just need to find a way to wake—
Shit!
I trip over my hungover feet, bang my shin on the bed frame and my bulky ballgown takes me down to the ground.
Fuuuucccckkk!
Is there such thing as too manyfucks?
21
NADIA
My front curtains flutter as I stumble out of an Uber and up my snow-covered walkway. The second I push open the front door to my house, a little boy gripping a half-eaten waffle races toward me, hugging at my legs and burying his face in the filthy fabric of my ballgown.
“Auntie!” Bryan screams. “You’re not a pumpkin! You’re not a pumpkin!”
I find myself smiling for the first time all day. “I’m fine, sweetie. I’m fine.” I take his syrup-covered face in my palms and hunch over to kiss his forehead.
“There’s nothing like messy hair and runny mascara first thing on a Sunday morning…” Nova sighs dreamily from down the hall where she’s leaning against the kitchen archway with her steaming coffee mug in hand. “The walk of shame looks good on you, Nadi.”
Our mother comes and leans on the opposite side of the doorframe, grinning into her own coffee mug. “That prince went togreat lengthsto keep you from turning into a pumpkin last night, didn’t he?”
“Hard, probing rock-solid lengths.” My little sister snickers.
“Don’t start,” I grind out, dragging my ass toward them.
I’m way too tired for their antics. I’ve got an upset stomach and a pounding headache. I can’t tell if this illness I’m feeling is fatigue, hangover, dehydration or the anxiety-inducing fact that I woke up married to a man I don’t even know.
“Damn, Miss Grumpy. Let’s get some food in you.” Nova guides me into the kitchen, grabbing a plate from the cupboard and stacking it high with fresh waffles.
