Page 37 of The Rule Book

Derek turns off the water and shifts behind me. I’m too concerned with the state of my stomach to wonder what he’s doing back there until I feel his hands on my neck. My gin-soaked brain thinks he might be on the brink of strangling me to escape any consequences from last night. But no…he’s just gathering my hair back and placing a cool cloth against my overheated skin. The sweetness of it doubles my tears.

“What are you doing?” I sit back on my heels and rip off a square of gritty-thin toilet paper and swipe it across my mouth.

“I didn’t want you to get puke in your hair.”

Now my tears triple. They’re fountains, leaking down my face and tasting a little too much like mascara and gin.

I’m in a daze as I watch Derek find an elastic and then gently work his fingers through my hair, braiding it back until he gets to the end and secures it. All I can do is hold on to the toilet seat with both hands like it is a floatie in the ocean as memories wash over me. So many nights where I would sit in front of him on the couch, eating a bowl of ice cream and cereal while he braided my hair. I taught him how when we first started dating, and he did it as often as possible after that.

I whimper as another bolt of lightning strikes through my brain. “Is this death?”

“Pretty close.” He presses the cool cloth to my neck once again, and his knuckles graze my skin. “I feel like roadkill. By the way, did we…?” The way he hesitates to finish that sentence sort of undermines his playboy reputation. He almost sounds embarrassed. “I don’t remember anything and that worries me for a lot of reasons.”

I cut my eyes down to my fully clothed body, and then peek over my shoulder at his half-naked one. He’s wearing pants but no shirt. No belt. Just…muscles and the waistband of his black boxer briefs peeking out over the top, and…tattoos. Two large beautifully detailed hawks are mirrored midflight on either side of Derek’s chest. They have broad wings and talons outstretched as if they’re about to land or pick something up. Like they’re going right for the center of his sternum where they’re going to rip his heart out and carry it away. The piece alone is gorgeous, but on Derek with his size and muscles and electric blue eyes, it’s downright chilling.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and turn my face away. “I don’t think anything happened beyond swimming down the river of alcohol.”

Using the toilet seat to help me stand, I wobble like a baby fawn tothe sink so I can dash cold water across my skin and smudge away the mascara from under my eyes. Derek sits on the side of the tub, rests his forearms on his knees, and tracks his eyes down the length of my body like he’s searching for hidden memories. I nearly shiver from the intensity of his gaze. Is he remembering something from last night, or something from years ago?

“I don’t think we did anything besides sleep.” He drops his head and runs his hands over his face.

For a moment, my gaze lingers on him and a surge of ugly jealousy rises up. I don’t even want to think about how many women have woken up to the sight of this man and tried to lock him down as quickly as possible. He’s the kind of person you could easily become obsessed with—Iknow from firsthand experience.

I turn away from Derek and pick up my toothbrush with a plan to rid myself of this dragon breath and then flood my entire system with coffee. I’ll take a shower alone (not sure why I felt like I needed to add thealonepart) and then pack all my things and book a flight out this morning instead of waiting to fly back with Derek this afternoon like we planned. Derek asked to dissolve our contract last night because he doesn’t like being around me, or can’t let go of our past, orwhatever’sme, and then woke up in my bed and held my hair back while I threw up; and none of those events make sense to my organization-loving brain, so I’m going to run from them as quickly as possible.

“All right, Pender. We need to get you out of here without anyone noticing. Because if the media were to spot you coming out of my hotel room, it would spell disaster for both of us.”

“Uh—”

I shove the toothbrush into my mouth and begin a furious teeth cleaning, talking to Derek through the mouth suds. “In fact, let’s just forget this ever happened, okay? We’re both grown-ups. No need tomake a big stink out of nothing. Most likely you made sure I got back here safely and then toppled onto the bed and passed out with me. No harm, no foul.”

Derek rubs the back of his neck while staring at me. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to forget last night quite so easily.”

I roll my eyes at my own haggard-looking reflection. My hair is a wild mess of auburn tangles, and I have black streaks under my eyes from my mascara. There’s only a faint tinge of pink stain where my lipstick used to be.

I know Derek isn’t looking at the woman standing before him and wishing he could have her forever. Not anymore. Instead, he’s thinking he got out in the nick of time.

“Derek, there’s really no need for you to—”

He launches off the side of the tub and in two strides is directly behind me. We make eye contact in the mirror and the blacks of his eyes are competing against the blue. His hand moves around me to clasp mine, and in the process, his warm bare chest presses against me. He raises my hand, and my jaw drops—toothbrush falling out and hitting the ground with a ceremonial clack.

“Is that?” Toothpaste is dangerously close to dripping from my mouth, so I lean over quickly and spit before whirling around to face Derek. I hold my hand up between us and he does the same with his.

We stare at each other’s ring fingers.

“It’s possible…” he begins with a measured calm, “…that we got married last night.”

My stomach rolls and I lean against the counter for support. That is not only a ring on my finger, it’s a…

“A tattoo,” I say in a faint whisper. “We…got tattoo wedding rings?”

A Rolodex of memories flips through my head. Derek and I were drinking at the bar and then we went drinking at another bar. And then we walked down the Vegas strip and passed a chapel. At that point we had so much alcohol in us that we laughed about how we wanted to get married “back in the day” and then thought about how funny it would be if we went ahead and did it now.Ha-ha, Drunk Nora is soooo funny!

So we did. We got married. And then we went to celebrate and have a wedding reception at yet another bar (still thinking what a funny joke it is) and that’s when we realized we didn’t have wedding rings. But once again, Drunk Nora is such a problem solver, and since there was a tattoo parlor right next door, I had the epic idea to permanently mark this bad decision on my body for the rest of mylife, and oh gosh I’m going to throw up again. Or pass out. Or cry. Or all of the above.

Derek sees the look on my face and takes my shoulders in his hands. “Hey. It’s okay. So we eloped. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” I hold up my ring finger and flip him off with my new permanent accessory. “This feels like a big deal to me. Derek, imagine if the press gets hold of this? Imagine what it will do to our careers! Or no…your career will keep chugging along as usual because male athletes literally get away with everything and barely receive a slap on the wrist for it. But me…I could lose my job!”

---