The newlyweds were supposed to be gone. The entire hotel was buzzing about their honeymoon flight. Champagne glasses had been cleared, flowers bundled away, and guests had moved on with their lives.
I should have done the same.
But when the door to his honeymoon suite opened, and I saw him standing there without his jacket, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and that same hunger burning in his eyes, I knew I wasn’t walking away tonight either.
He didn’t speak. Neither did I. The air between us had already said too much.
Inside, the suite was filled with roses and soft light. A bottle of champagne waited on ice. Two flutes sat untouched on the table. The bed was covered in white sheets, the kind meant for a night that should have belonged to his bride.
He was still wearing his wedding ri
