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I sighed.
I wished.
Oh how I wished.
13
Abbie
Lucas drove, hunched forward slightly, a baseball cap on his head as we headed towards town. I yawned and looked out the window. He wanted an early start to the day. I had vague memories of last night. We’d done another round of the charcuterie boards late in the evening and wine on the patio after getting back from the fireworks and one of the most amazing Christmas trees I’d ever seen. I’d spent most of the night perched on the edge of the pool, my feet dangling in the water as we listened to the music through the outside speakers and Lucas swam in the pool and we talked about seemingly everything.
I knew I’d taken my anxiety out on the wine bottle, anything to dull the little movie playing off and on in my head, the one that featured the overly flirty tour guide and my somewhat clueless best friend.
Ever since I’d woken up, I had the overwhelming worry that somehow during one of my tipsy moments, I’d said something I shouldn’t have.
Like how I really felt.
Clearly, he’d put me to bed. I had no recollection of changing into the nightshirt. Hell, I couldn’t remember making it up to my room.
I propped my head on my hand and glanced at him. He was singing along to the song on the satellite radio, a favorite of his.
“Did I say anything?” I asked, leaning over and turning the volume down just a touch.
“What do you mean?”
“When I was tipsy...”
He grinned. “Nah...nothing too interesting.”
He glanced at me with a reassuring wink and turned his attention back to the road.
That little move had my stomach turning into knots.
“Seriously?” I said the word slowly.
“Nope. You’re good.”
But I had a vague notion I’d admitted I loved him. But it was hazy, delightfully hazy. Maybe it was a dream after all.
I caught him glancing at me after I stayed silent too long. “Promise?”
“Promise. What did you think you said?”
I shrugged a shoulder, trying to be nonchalant.
“Who knows.” I glanced at him. “Maybe I gave up one of Marnie’s secret family recipes.”
“Ha… While I’d love to get her recipe for those addictive chocolate chip cookies, nope, nothing that interesting.”
“Hmmm…” Then why did I feel so uneasy? I looked at him. “You wouldn’t lie…”
“You know what they say—what you say when you’re tipsy is the truth.”
“Now you’re making me think I said something.”
“Nope.” He grinned at me. “Now relax, vacation time.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to fight through the fog of my memory of last night.
