She watched him walk into the bathroom. He moved naturally, and he smiled at her again before he shut the door, but she could tell that something was still wrong.
She flopped back against the pillows, taking several more swallows of coffee. She told herself to be practical and reasonable about this, the way she was about everything else.
Her leg moved against something that felt strange on the sheet, so she slid a hand down to check it out instinctively. Her eyes widened dramatically as she realized what it must be.
Dried semen.
“Oh God,” she groaned, starting to cover herself up with the sheet but then pushing it down abruptly. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Glancing down, she saw something dried on her bare stomach.
That must have been from Peter too.
She had absolutely no memory of anything that had happened in this bed last night, but evidently it had ended with Peter coming.
Her whole body flushed hot at the realization.
She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Peter like that. He was her friend, and that was what he’d always, only been. He wasn’t interested in her in any other way.
They’d been drunk. Men would go to bed with almost anyone when they were drunk. He still wasn’t interested in her. He’d been really upset about their getting married.
She stared down at the ring on her finger. This morning, she was evidently a Blake. Her grandmother would be so pleased.
If truth be told, it wasn’t as horrifying a thought as it should have been.
But none of that mattered. Peter was obviously upset. The only kind thing she could do for him was help him get out of the situation as quickly as possible.
That was what she was going to do. Whatever Peter wanted, she would go along with it. This was her fault, and she wasn’t going to let him suffer because of it.
***
Peter stepped into the shower, the water on so hot it almost scalded him.
He hadn’t spent his entire life being smart. It was only in the past few years that he’d tried to grow up and do something purposeful with his life.
But nothing he’d done in the past had been nearly as foolish as this.
He’d actually believed Kelly wanted him, wanted to be married to him. He’d let himself believe her inhibitions were down enough for her to act on what she really wanted.
He hadn’t wanted to know the truth of it—that she was too far gone to make a good decision, or make any decision at all.
He’d obviously been too drunk too, but he couldn’t take any comfort from that excuse.
It had been his mistake. And he would have to live with the way his heart felt broken right now, like he’d lost what he’d almost had.
He stayed in the shower a long time, too wracked with the harsh reality to think clearly or come up with a plan. He only turned off the water when his skin was really starting to hurt.
As he was drying off, he heard a beep on his phone from the pocket of his trousers. He leaned over to pick it up and blinked in surprise when he saw there was a voice message from his mother.
He clicked on it, glad of the distraction. His issues with his parents were nothing compared to the pain of losing Kelly, after thinking for one night that he’d had her.
The message began abruptly.
Peter, what is this about you getting married? I just got a call from Verna Wilson, who heard it from her daughter, Heidi, who I guess is with you there. She said you got married to that Beaufort girl. Why didn’t you tell me? Your dad and I would have put on a beautiful wedding for you. You know we would want to be there. I’m so happy that you decided to be a man about it, but I don’t know why you had to do it in such a rush. There are traditions, you know. Anyway, I want to hear all about it, so call me back as soon as you can. Since Verna knows, you can bet all of Savannah knows by now. I can just imagine what old Mrs. Beaufort is thinking. Her granddaughter married a Blake! Call me, Peter. Call me as soon as you can.
Peter’s heart was racing as he heard the end of the message. This was a nightmare. Not only had he been an utter fool, but everyone he knew would find out about it. His mother had sounded so happy, beneath her outrage at being left out.
He would have to disappoint her, on top of everything else.
He sat down on the side of the tub, his towel wrapped around his waist. He stared down at his phone. His body was buffeted with waves of mortification and loss and grief and self-directed anger.
If he hadn’t wanted it so much, he would have stopped this thing from happening last night. He’d known better.
Deep inside, he’d known it was too good to be true, too easy, too much like a fantasy come to life.
Kelly didn’t want him. Not like that.
She never had.
A tap on the bathroom door surprised him. “Peter?”