Page 2 of What About Now

Opening my eyes again, I peer down at the arm wrapped around me, and instantly, I recognize the ink, and my body relaxes.

Maddox.

Oh shit! Maddox.

I mean, he’s better than a stranger, but this will complicate things. Mostly the crush I’ve had on him since the day we first met. I’ve made sure to keep my feelings locked in the vault, because what if we get together and it doesn’t work out? My sister is married to his best friend and business partner. My nieces call him Uncle Maddox, for goodness’ sake. So, yeah, no matter how sexy he is, or how I’ve imagined waking up just like this, I know it can’t happen.

It shouldn’t have happened.

I move to try to get out of bed, but the arm tightens around my waist. “Go back to sleep. Too early.”

That voice, even laced with sleep and I’m assuming hungover—if the way I feel is any indication—definitely belongs to Maddox.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t just stay here, wrapped up in his arms. I shouldn’t be here. I drank too much and was irresponsible. The last time I let something like this happen—I push those thoughts out of my mind. I’m fully dressed, so that means we just slept next to each other, right? I would know if we did more. At least, I think I would.

I need to get up.

I move again, and he stops me.

“Stay.”

“I have to pee.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the only reason I’m trying to flee this bed and his arms either.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But come back to bed,” he says, as he releases his hold on me.

I don’t reply as I scramble out from under the covers and place my feet on the floor. The room spins, and I groan and take a few deep breaths. Getting up that quick was not a good plan. When I can finally gain some balance, I move toward the bathroom and lock myself inside.

I don’t bother looking in the mirror. Not yet anyway. I’m certain that whatever greets me is going to be a scary sight. My mouth tastes like ass, or what I assume ass to taste like, mixed with cotton.

After relieving my bladder and sitting on the toilet for far too long, I move to the sink to wash my hands. A quick glance in the mirror and I cringe. Ugh, I do not want him to see me this way. Reaching for the water, I keep staring at the hot mess that I am. After I run my hands beneath the stream, I splash water on my face. That’s when I feel it.

Slowly, I open my eyes and stare at my left hand that’s suspended in the air. My ring finger—thatring finger—is adorned with a white gold diamond band.

What. The. Fuck?

I shake my head, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and open them again slowly. The ring is still there. Both hands shake as I reach over with my right and twirl the diamond band. It’s a perfect fit. As if it were made just for me.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

I don’t want to jump to conclusions. I’m sure it was just a ring that I saw and liked. That’s all it is. It’s not because I’m in Vegas with my sister, who married the love of her life, with a man who has no idea how I long to be with him. The same man I just woke up next to in bed beside me, with a ring on my finger.

In Vegas.

I’ve never shied away from my problems, and I’m not going to start now. Grabbing the hand towel, I dry my face and quickly brush my teeth before tying my hair back in a knot. Nothing is going to help the hot mess that is my hair except for a shower, and right now, I need to see Maddox. More specifically, I need to see his left hand.

“It’s just a ring,” I whisper to myself as I pull open the bathroom door and pad my way back to the bed. Maddox is awake, and his eyes trail me with each step I take.

“How you feeling?” he asks. His voice is raspy and thick from sleep, and it’s sexy, just like the man, but I push that thought aside. I have more important things to talk to him about.

“Can I see your hand?”

He furrows his brow. “My hand?”

I nod and fight the urge to groan. That was not good for my headache. “Your left hand.”

He lifts his hand, and my breath stalls in my lungs. He’s wearing a wedding band. It’s black and similar to the one I watched my sister slide onto Forrest’s hand yesterday.

“What is that?” I ask, pointing at the ring.

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