No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 66

LAUREN'S POV

When I woke up in that bedroom this morning, my head felt like it had been filled with smoke. Everything was blurry, and I could hardly remember what had happened last night. My mind kept replaying fragments like broken pieces of a film reel. The last thing I remembered clearly was telling that jerk that I wasn’t going to drink alcohol. I had been firm about it, so certain that I wouldn’t let myself fall into the trap. My head pounding like a drum, knowing that somewhere along the line, I’d lost control.

Immediately the fog in my brain started to thin. The memories began to return, slow and sharp like needles piercing through my skull.

I remembered drinking, far more than I could handle. I remembered the heavy weight in my chest when I realized my body couldn’t take any more. I had told him no. I had told him over and over that I wasn’t interested, that I didn’t want to drink, that I wasn’t that kind of woman. But it didn’t matter. Somehow, in the chaos, in the heat of the moment, everything slipped past my control.

Bits and pieces came back in flashes. His arm looping under mine as he carried me to the top floor. His body was solid, muscles flexing against me, his chest warm against my cheek as he brought me to the bathroom on the top floor.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol that caused me to be confused but as he carried me up, it felt like this guy had carried me before, like this wasn’t the first time that I was in his arms, it was too familiar.

But I disregarded it because I was drunk at that moment, anything could have gone through my head, all sorts of emotions and that might have mixed up with some of my memories, so maybe I was probably mistaken him for Ethan.

I could still feel the imprint of his strength when he set me down, and that alone made my stomach twist.

I remembered the cold tiles under my knees, the bitter taste of vomit, the humiliation of being so weak, so vulnerable. Yet after it was all over, something inside me snapped loose. My crazy side, the one I had always kept buried, the side of me that only Ethan had ever glimpsed — suddenly it was out. That jerk saw it all, every unpolished, unfiltered version of me.

What did he say his name was again? Roland? Randy? It was something old-fashioned, something I didn’t care enough to remember properly. Names hardly mattered when all I could think about was the fact that he hadn’t been as drunk as me. Not even close. His eyes had been too sharp, too steady, like he was always one step ahead. Meaning he would remember everything from last night every single moment better than I could.

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