Page 2 of Achievement Unlocked

I couldn’t stop, either. It took me several minutes to bring the crying under control, and even when I did, I didn’t want to pull away. Partly because I was embarrassed and just as much because he was comfortable and comforting.

“Maybe you should’ve left your shirt off.” I tried to joke as I finally extracted myself from the wet spot I’d left on his chest.

His smile was warm. “It’ll dry out. I’m not worried about it. Tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t. You’re a stripper, not a therapist.”

He twisted his mouth. “I can’t make you talk.”

“No. You can’t.” I grabbed fistfuls of tissue to wipe away tears and snot. I was glad I couldn’t see a mirror from here, or I’d be forced to admit how blotchy and red and extra horrible I looked. He must think so little of me right now. “It’s just, I know that relationships are supposed to take work. I’m fine with that. Compromise. Understanding. But why does it feel like I’m the only one compromising? The only one understanding?” The words gnawed at me as they spilled out.

There were probably better ways to say those things. Sonya could tell me. She had a better vocabulary. Better guys, plural.

And despite knowing the world would look at me funny if I dated two men—that was so inappropriate—I was still jealous of her relationships, which she refused to admit were more.

“At the risk of sounding obvious and a bit man-splainy, have you told your fiancé you feel this way?” Landon asked.

“Kind of.” No.Godno. I didn’t have conversations like that with people. “He’s willing to compromise too. He lets me spend some time with my friends.”

Landon clenched his jaw.

And this was why I never talked about my relationship with Easton. My friends reacted the same way. “Forget it. Forget I brought any of this up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognized that I was sliding from sad-drunk-Megan to angry-drunk-Megan and now was a good time for me to stop talking. Because angry-drunk-Megan didn’t tend to have an off-switch, and sober-Megan was nothing-but off-switch. “You’re thinkingspending time with friendsisn’t compromise, and that’s because you don’t understand. You don’t know me or my relationship. It is compromise when schedules contradict. When my friends don’t like him. Why would he want to be around that? All the judgment. All the glares and assumptions. So it’s a reasonable compr— copro— copor— That word tastes funny.”

“Compromise?” Landon offered.

I pointed at him. “That word. It’s important in a relationship, even when it hurts and even when it makes me sad. It’s okay, because he loves me, and the last guy didn’t. Not really. It was why he fucked my ex-best friend. My fiancé isn’t fucking Sonya because she’s fucking your friend. And my brother.

“Fucking is a funny word too.” My brain derailed. What had I been talking about? Right. Compromise. My head swam. Or that was the room. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Come here.” Landon helped me further up in the bed and made sure I was covered with the blanket. He was as sweet as he was pretty.

“Wait.” I grabbed his arm when he tried to leave. “You’re not going to leave me alone when I’m drunk, are you? I might get sick in my sleep or something.” What was I doing?

About what?

Landon sat on the bed again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Because Easton was. I was almost certain of it. Just like my last fiancé he was going to leave me. But at least the pretty stripper was sticking around for the night.

* * *

“What the fuck?”

The question jarred me from sleep. It sounded like two different people, and one of them was my brother. But I was an adult, and why would my Jeremy be in my room, at my house?

And why did my head hurt so much?

And why did my mouth taste like rancid cotton?

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.” That was Sonya muttering.

It was faint. She couldn’t be talking to me.

My bed moved. Correction, the person I was lying on moved.

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