The sheets still smelled like him. Roses. Sweat. Champagne. Secrets.
I sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a white sheet that wasn’t mine, in a room meant for his bride. The night was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made every heartbeat sound loud enough to shatter the walls. He had left hours ago. Back to her. To the woman wearing the ring that pressed into my skin while he was inside me.
I should have walked away after that. I should have closed the door, erased the scent, and burned the memory before it ruined me completely. But the truth was simple and ugly. I didn’t want to.
I wanted him to come back.
And when the keycard slid against the door and it opened slowly, he did.
He stepped inside still wearing his suit from the reception, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up. His tie wa
