Realization sets in and my eyes go wide and when I take a step back, Drew bites his bottom lip. He’s looking at me with hooded eyes, and a small smile plays on his lips.
Oh my God!
My throat goes dry as I instantly sober up, regardless of all the margaritas I drank. I don’t know what to think or say as I’m studying his face. My mouth gently falls open, and I understand now. He doesn’t have to say a word or confirm anything because his eyes gave him away.
He never forgot a damn thing.
He remembers, and by the way he’s looking at me at this very moment, I’m pretty sure he remembers everything.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DREW
Securing Courtney’s hand in mine, I lead her out of the bar and toward my truck. The air is cooler now, and I notice her shoulders are bare, so I shrug out of my jacket and place it over her. “Were you trying to catch pneumonia?”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “It’s not even that cold.”
“Tell that to your chattering teeth,” I say, unlocking my truck. “Get in.”
As soon as she’s in and settled, I shut the door and round the front to the driver’s side and hop inside. I turn the engine on and start the heat. California is nice this time of year, but once the sun goes down, the breeze from the water drops the temperature.
“You lied to me,” she finally speaks, keeping her head down.
“I didn’t lie.”
She whips her head at me, narrowing her eyes. “You said you didn’t remember anything after the binge drinking. So, do you, or don’t you?” Her voice is demanding, and I know she wants answers. I’m just not sure I can explain them to her right now.
“Court, we should really talk about this when we’re both sober,” I begin, hoping she understands.
“We didn’t get into your bed sober, so why start now? Just tell me. I need to know.”
I bow my head and crack my jaw, thinking how to word it right. “I didn’t forget. I woke up, hungover as fuck, and when it dawned on me that the night before wasn’t another dream about you, I turned over, and you were gone. I figured you woke up, realized where you were and what had happened, and bailed before I was up. I thought you felt regret and I didn’t want things to be awkward between us.” I finally look at her, and she’s staring at me, emotionless. “I was afraid to lose you.”
“You’ve had dreams about me?” Her brows raise.
“You caught that little bit, did you?” I smirk, and for a moment it feels normal between us again. But her lips tilt down, and I know it’ll never be normal between us again.
“You made me believe you didn’t remember anything,” she states, anger forming in her voice. “You made me believe it meant nothing and that you were back with Mia.”
“That wasn’t my intention. You have to believe me,” I tell her genuinely.
“My heart was shattering. I was so angry with myself for even thinking you’d be interested in a girl like me and that only girls like Mia get guys like you.” Our eyes meet. I can see how hurt she is right now, and it’s killing me inside to see her like this.
I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ve wanted to tell you all week, but with my work rotation, I wanted to wait until we had a night together.”
“A night that turned into Mia and you on the couch,” she mutters.
“I had nothing to do with that. She and I are over.”
She cocks a brow at me. “Does she know that?”
I shrug, because who knows what Mia is thinking. “It doesn’t matter because she’s not the one I want.” I reach for her hand again, and this time she lets me hold it.
She looks down at our hands and licks her lips. “And it took you this long to figure that out?” She looks back up at me, doubt in her tone.
I bow my head and nod. “I didn’t want to admit it to myself. I categorized you as just a friend, someone I share a house with, and one of my sister’s best friends. I didn’t allow myself to think of you as anything more than that, but once I did—once I let my guard down—the feelings I always blocked came rushing in and there was no more denying it. Bringing you lunch every Friday was the highlight of my whole week. Our Thursday night Ladies’ night traditions, our Saturday night movies, and even our Sunday morning pancake feasts—they were always more than just two friends hanging out together; I just never wanted to admit it.”
“If that’s true, then why didn’t you acknowledge us being together? Why pretend you were too drunk to remember?”