Page 28 of Filthy Rich Santas

My mouth tastes vaguelylike Christmas and regret when I wake up, and I shake my foggy head, trying to clear it and figure out why.

“Ow.” I wince when the motion only intensifies the throbbing at my temples.

I squint in the early morning light, rubbing the center of my forehead. I’m definitely a little bit hungover, and everything that happened last night suddenly comes back to me in a rush.

“Oh god,” I groan as I remember telling the guys that I basically went to Radiance looking forthem.

True? Yes.

Embarrassing? Also yes.

But not nearly as embarrassing as the memory of the way all three of them justlookedat me after I blurted it out, not saying a word.

Just thinking about it makes me flush with heat, and not the fun kind. It’s not that I’m shocked they don’t want me. I already know that their protective, attentive natures come from me being Caleb’s little sister, not from anything more personal. And despite the internal pep talk I used to get myself to show up at Radiance in the first place that night, I know that each one of them is out of my league too.

They’re like three different flavors of sex-on-a-stick, and I’m a work in progress who’s never lived up to anyone’s expectations. Not my parents’, not Wade’s, and certainly not whatever expectations Tristan, Beckett, and Ryder must have for the kind of women they’re actually interested in.

I sigh, then grimace as my head starts to throb a little harder now that I’m actually awake.

I throw an arm over my eyes, blocking out the morning light, and allow myself one more second of self-pity.

I can’t even imagine how awkward the rest of this trip is going to be now that I’ve admitted why I really went to the club that night. But I can’t hide forever, so I throw off the covers and head for the shower, berating myself the whole way for not stopping at just one drink last night.

I’m honestly a little shocked I actually got drunk. I’m not usually like that, even if letting loose the way I did felt like I was following through with my promise to reinvent myself at the time.

Unfortunately, in retrospect, it feels more like a mistake.

“Well, at least I can fix one part of that mistake,” I mumble under my breath when I reach the bathroom.

I fish a small bottle of painkillers out of my toiletries bag and swallow down two of them. It’s been a while since I’ve had a hangover, and the reminder of my overindulgence last night has me worrying about what other effects I might have to deal with.

I’ve never been a big drinker, so I have to admit I sort of glossed over it when my doctor told me I’d need to limit alcohol from now on, given my condition.

I stare at myself hard in the mirror, for once, not cataloging all my visible imperfections, but trying to see a little deeper. To find some evidence of theinvisibleone.

Lupus.

I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, shaking my head in denial. Pointless, but I can’t help it. It’s overwhelming. I honestly didn’t even know what the disease was before getting my diagnosis, and part of me wants to pretend I still don’t. I know it’s not smart, but I can’t deny that a huge part of me just wants to act like an ostrich and put my head in the sand, ignoring the whole thing.

And I guess, in a way, that’s exactly what I did last night when I ordered those cocktails against my doctor’s orders.

It’s just… it’s notfair.

“As if I need one more imperfection to add to my lifelong list,” I mumble, staring into my own eyes again. Then out of sheer habit, letting my eyes drift down over familiar territory.

Round face.

Rounder body.

I’m working hard on loving myself even if others don’t, but I still can’t erase all the voices in my head that love to remind me that, no matter what I do, I’m never quite pretty enough, or slim enough, or put together enough.

I’m never quitegoodenough.

And I’ll be damned if I’m going to give anyone more reasons to think so by telling others about this stupid lupus.

Especially after it already drove away the one person I shared the news with.

“Enough,” I tell myself firmly, turning away from the mirror. “I’mgladI don’t have to deal with Wade on top of this diagnosis.”

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