Now that we’re at least partially clothed, it’s time to let our guests in. And because they were rude enough to wake Fallon up, I pull the door open with more force than necessary and no warning at all. Mickey’s fist is balled up, so I duck as he begins to slam it against the door, then I jump back out of the way when he tumbles forward and nearly face plants on the floor.
Serves him right for waking my girl up.
And yes, I’m fully aware that she is not my girl, and likely never will be, but she woke up wearing my underwear, so I’m allowing myself to feel protective of her.
JT steps inside after Mick and closes the door behind himself before parking his ass on the corner of the large desk that takes up half the room. He looks at me, then atFallon, then back at me. “What the hell were you thinking, Ollie?” he asks.
His tone takes me by surprise, and I’ve had just about enough of those this morning.“Uh,excuse you? What the fuck I do in my bed—or Fallon’s bed—is none of your concern. You of all people should know this. Do you want to explain to me how my sleeping arrangements are any of your business?”
Mickey’s sitting criss-cross-goddamn-applesauce on the bed scrolling on his phone. “To be fair, you kinda made it our business.”
I shoulder check him and take his spot, forcing him to take the office chair that matches the desk, and the damn thing spins. Great. Now he’s never gonna leave. “The fuck I made it your business,”I tell him. “You nosy assholes found me here and?—"
Mickey shakes his head, interrupting me as he shoves his phone in my face. “Not here, dude.Here.” He taps the phone screen as Fallon inches closer to me. A video begins to play. It looks like we’re at the bar in the lobby, so I still don’t see what the big deal is and now I’m getting pissed.
“Whoop-de-fuckin do. You have footage of Fallon and me drinking. Ok…And were you spying on me? How in the hell did you?—"
“We weren’t spying on you, dude,” JT says, signing as he speaks. “But maybe somebody should have been before you two got fuckin married.”
And with those words, my teammate sucks all the oxygen out of the room. I watch as JT and Mickey shift their attention back to the bed and back to Fallon. She looks at her left hand as though she’s seeing it for the first time. When she holds it up, there’s diamond sparkling from her ring finger, but I don’t need to see it to know that there’s a matching gold band on my finger. The weight of it steadies me as memories flood my brain in fragments.
I remember dancing with her. And doing shots. And Ihave a vivid memory of telling her I liked the way she looked with my ring on her finger. I catch a flash of the band on my own hand as I remember stumbling back here and fumbling to get our clothes off.
Your shirt’s in that drawer, I sign, pointing to the nightstand next to her.When we got back last night, I couldn’t find your suitcase and a drawer seemed like the next best thing.
You remember last night? she asks, signing, and I like that our conversation is silent, even though I know JT can read our words.
Some, I admit.I wanted you to have flowers, but the bouquet at the chapel looked like a funeral arrangement,I sign as the memory comes back to me in vivid color.
I didn’t need flowers. I don’t need them, she signs before shaking her head like this is all too much.What were we thinking?She signs, echoing JT’s earlier question.
I don’t remember, I answer honestly. It’s funny because I can recall the way she looked at the altar, I can hear the officiant’s voice in my head, and I even remember hastily folding a little paper bouquet for her, but I don’t remember asking Fallon to marry me. And I don’t remember why she said yes.
Fallon takes Mickey’s phone and replays the video, maybe because she figures it will jog something in her own memory. Something inside me knows that I could watch it a dozen times and those key moments I want to remember—that I need to remember—will stay just out of reach.
Before anyone can hit Play again, my phone starts buzzing. Then JT’s, and then Mickey’s
Coach just texted.
Shit. He’s on his way.
I’m running plays in my head for the next half hour of my life is going to go when I feel Fallon’s touch on my shoulder.
If we’re getting more guests, I’m going to hop in the shower.
Yeah, okay, I sign back. She stands and takes her hearing aids off and snaps them into the charger. The blinking light on the case must mean something because she crosses the room and roots around in her suitcase before pulling out a cord. When she passes by me again on her way to the bathroom, I have to tamp down the urge to pull her in for a quick kiss.
What. The. Fuck?
As soon as the door shuts behind her, I feel my buddies’ eyes on me.
And JT is laughing at me, the fucker. “Dude, there are easier ways to get a girl to go out with you.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, playing dumb.
“You’ve been pining over Booker’s sister as long as I’ve known you,” Mickey answers. “And now you’re married to her? I’m no relationship expert, but shouldn’t you have at least taken her to dinner first? Or even the movies?”
I don’t respond, because I have nothing to say. I feel like I won’t know if what we did last night was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done or the smartest, at least not until I can remember how it all went down.
