Page 18 of Just Married

“Fuck!” I roar, running my fingers roughly through myhair.

“Kingston…” Theo calls after me as I storm away, but I ignorehim.

Chapter Eight

Peyton

Iran.

I’m a complete and total chicken, but the temptation to fall into Kingston was too much. If I had stayed, I would’ve ended up back in his bed, or worse I would’ve given him my heart. I can’t trust myself around him. Not while I’m so mixed up inside. Especially not after that dance and the pleading look in his eyes when he asked me to give us achance.

Us.

Could there really, truly be an us? That’s the million-dollarquestion.

It’s just after three in the morning when I finally get back to my apartment. Flying coach on the red-eye was definitely not my idea of fun, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I managed to snag the last seat available. Of course, there was a two-hour layover in Dallas, but again, beggars can’t be choosers. The next flight out was hours later, and I couldn’t risk Kingston figuring out that I was leaving without aword.

I drop my purse on the floor and barely make it to my bed before I crash. I’m still wearing my maid-of-honor dress and ridiculous heels, which brokered a few sidelong glances in the airports, but I was in a rush to make my escape. In fact, I only grabbed my purse before high-tailing it out of there. Tammy walked me to the entrance of the hotel and promised to take care ofeverything.

I’m asleep withinseconds.

The persistent buzzing of my alarm wakes me up hours later. I swat at the blasted thing, satisfied when it hits the floor, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. I sit up in bed, confused. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I realize it’s my cell phone vibrating on the hardwood floor. I flop back on my bed. Avoidance seems like a great idea right about now. When the phone vibrates again, I cringe knowing I can’t put it offforever.

I scoop up my phone and the other items that fell out of my purse when I dropped it last night, and head to the kitchen in search of caffeine. There is no way I can handle whatever is waiting for me without it. I start the coffee and decide a shower sounds great. It has nothing to do with my wanting to avoid the twenty notifications I caught a glimpse of before setting my phone on thecounter.

Nope.

Not atall.

I stay in the shower until the water runs cold and take extra care brushing my teeth. I even floss, which is something I rarely do, but today dental hygiene seems to be super important. Once I’ve done all the procrastinating I can… I may have reorganized my underwear drawer, made my never-been-made-before bed, and taken extra care with picking just the right set of ratty pajamas to sulk in… I head back to the kitchen where my coffee and phone arewaiting.

Armed with a steaming cup of coffee and zero courage, I unlock my phone and scroll through my messages. I ignore all the ones from the unknown number, knowing it has to be Kingston and skip to the two fromTammy.

Tammy (3:30 AM) Let me know you made ithome.

Tammy (2:43 PM) Don’t make me call Andy to check on yourass.

Andy is our pervy landlord. I know she’s teasing, but just incase…

Peyton (3:21 PM) I’m home. No need to send a searchparty.

Three little dots bounce on the screen immediately indicating she’sresponding.

Tammy (3:22 PM) Is hethere?

Peyton (3:22 PM) Please, tell me you didn’t sick Andy onme…

I stare at the screen waiting. I know she read my message, but she’s taking her time responding. I chew my lip nervously. Finally, the dots appear… then disappear… then appear… and disappearagain.

Surely she doesn’t mean who I think she means. I start to panic at the thought that she’s talking about Kingston. That fear spurs me to look at the rest of my messages. I ignore the five voicemails—I can’t handle those yet—and skip straight to thetexts.

Unknown (10:30 PM) Where areyou?

Unknown (10:30 PM) Don’tleave.

Unknown (10:31 PM) Answer yourphone.

Unknown (10:45 PM) Please, callme.

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