Ridley woke the next morning feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. His head pounded, and his limbs felt like lead weights.
He tried to push himself up, but something held him down.
His hand brushed against warm, silky skin.
That perfume. He knew that scent.
Panic shot through him as his eyes snapped open.
Aileen lay curled against him, both of them naked under twisted sheets.
He jerked upright, his heart hammering.
The sudden movement startled Aileen awake.
She blinked sleepily before her eyes went wide with manufactured shock.
"Oh my God, Ridley!" She clutched the sheet to her chest, scrambling backward. "I trusted you! How could you do this to me?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks in perfectly timed drops.
Her crying always got to him, and now it hit like a punch to the gut. He fumbled for words, his mind spinning.
"Aileen, I'm so sorry... I can't remember..."
Last night was a complete blank.
He remembered venting about losing Ana, drowning his frustration in whiskey.
