I had been so focused on Dean that I hadn’t even noticed the person lurking behind him. I was in so much trouble.
“This is Zack,” he answered, clapping his hand on the guys’ shoulder. Then he gestured to each of us. “And that’s Jillian, Paige, and Fiona, right?”
I was impressed. He had only met the girls once. A month or two after Eric and I had started dating I brought them to the restaurant to meet him. Dean had been behind the bar, of course, and come over to say hello. That had been a year ago, though, and I couldn’t believe he remembered their names. It had taken Eric at least three meetings to get it straight. Although, it was possible that I had rambled on about them last night. I could have said anything to him, honestly. It was terrifying.
“Hello there. Nice to meet you, Zack,” Paige purred. “You boys should get some drinks and join us out there.”
“Uhh. Sure?” Zack answered, looking to Dean for confirmation.
Who in turn looked towards me.
I wasn’t in any hurry to have an awkward conversation, and dancing did look fun. And the point of this weekend had initially been to have fun. I deserved it. Even more so now that I had somehow dug myself into a massive hole.
Shrugging, I stood. “Let’s do it.”
Our small group maneuvered into a tiny clear spot on the edge of the dance floor. The guys flagged down a waitress and ordered some drinks, and slowly, we let loose. Even Fiona, I was happy to see. She seemed to be enjoying herself.
At first it went exactly as I had hoped. Exhilarating, but casual. We bounced around to the pounding bass, giggling at nothing and singing along with the music. Just a group of sort of friends letting off steam.
But at some point, the mood shifted. We were getting jostled around endlessly, as typically happens in such places, but after a random guy bumped into me hard enough to knock me off-kilter, Dean wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me.
And he didn’t let go. He stayed there. Pressed against my back. Hot and possessive.
I faltered but didn’t move away. I could feel him everywhere, and it was both strange and oddly familiar. My body recognized his, and I wondered if we had danced like this last night. I didn’t think so—I think our bodies had gotten acquainted in other ways.
I could also smell him. His own scent mixed with light layer of sweat, and it instantly transported me back into his hotel room. Flashes of the dream mingled with other fractured memories. It was all so confusing. For several songs we danced slowly, fused together, before it got to be too much.
I needed to know what was real and what wasn’t before I lost my mind.
With no warning, I spun around, grabbed Dean’s hand, and dragged him over into a dark corner. The music was deafeningly loud there too, but if we leaned in close enough, we could almost hear each other speak.
“What’s up?” he mouthed, his forehead creased in concern.
“I…I think I…Umm, I mean, it’s possible I’ve been seeing things. Not ‘seeing things,’ like that, but I’ve been seeing things that I think might be real all day,” I told him in a rush. “Memories. I’m not sure though. It could be nothing. And I don’t know what it means. And I don’t know why I’m telling you, because it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Dean didn’t respond at first. He simply stared. Then his lip quirked up and he shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
He hadn’t heard a single word of my spastic word vomit. Thank God. It had been a disaster. It occurred to me that I had no idea how to tell someone that I may or may not remember our unplanned drunken wedding and subsequent sexy wedding night. It would be helpful if someone made a greeting card for this scenario or something, but I was on my own currently.
I leaned in again and blurted the first thing that came to my mind. “Do you have a scar on your…umm, inner thigh? One that kind of looks like a sword?”
This time the smile spread across his entire face. It was huge, and breathtakingly gorgeous. It also told me exactly what I needed to know.
Those dreams had been flashbacks of the real deal.
“Oh.” I swallowed hard at the implication.
He pulled me against his warm, firm chest and dropped his mouth to my ear. “It’s coming back, isn’t it?”
“Some of it. Barely,” I lied.
I wasn’t about to admit that I vividly recalled licking that scar. Or how much the memory was turning me on. We were supposed to be planning how to end our marriage and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Not…anything else.
I wasn’t sure my body was adequately telegraphing that fact though.