Page 158 of Accidental Husband

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Griffin

An hour in the hotel gym and a hot shower do nothing to clear my head.

There's only one person I want when my head is this fucked up and she—

I don't know what she's doing. Or not doing.

Only that she can't tell me what she's feeling.

I pick up my cell. Tap out a text to Wes. Delete it.

He's taking Quinn to the airport tomorrow. Flying to Chicago with her, or asking her to stay, or saying goodbye forever.

I know what he's planning, but a night is a long time. His plans might change. If this is going to be his last night with her—

I can't intrude.

I don't want to intrude.

I want Jules.

The bed is comfortable enough. The layers of blankets provide plenty of warmth, but my body stays cold.

Sleep eludes me. My head keeps going back to Jules and all the hurt on her face.

She doesn't trust me.

She doesn't believe I'm worth trusting.

I don't blame her.

I don't trust myself either.

Not with things that matter.

Not with her heart.

I thought maybe, this could be different, that we could be different.

But we're not.

We're—

I don't know what the fuck we are.

Eventually, I give up on sleep. I find my cell. Stare at days of texts. And dozens of pictures. And the single photo on her social media account—the two of us post-wedding, smiling into the camera, drunk and happy.

That was twenty-four hours ago.

She was mine twenty-four hours ago.

Now…

I want to be what she needs.

But I have no fucking idea how to do that.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

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