Page 127 of Except You

I can’t fucking understand this.

With a trembling hand, I drag the covers off him, making him whimper in annoyance.

Holy shit. Is that cum on his ass cheeks?

My stomach churns, and I feel bile creep up my throat. With urgency, I hop out of bed, making it to the toilet just in time to let the contents of last night spill into the bowl. Alcohol and, oh yes, more alcohol is brought up until I’m just dry heaving. My entire body is shaking and I feel sweat bead on my forehead.

I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

What the hell happened last night, I think as I grab some tissues and wipe at my mouth. My back hits the wall, the cool tile beneath my bare ass making me shiver. I think I’m dying, or in a nightmare.

Not sure which is worse.

My hand rubs down my tired, hot face, and that’s when I notice it.

A ring.

On my left hand.

I stare at it for far too long, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest.

What the fuck?

What the fuck is this?

Since when am I married?

On shaking legs, I scramble up and trip my way back into the bedroom, finding Coop half-awake now and sprawled face up on the mattress, his limp dick stuck to his thigh, completely comfortable showing me his goods.

But then again, Coop seems to give zero fucks about anything. Ever since meeting him two weeks ago, I realized this rich, spoiled boy always gets his way and is never told no.

I mean, I tell him no every time I see him, just to make sure he’s brought back to reality. Life is never that easy. I even told him no when he asked to carpool to Vegas together.

He just rolled his eyes and told me that he knew my car was in the shop and I had no way to get there. I’d fought the entire way, making sure he knew how much I didn’t appreciate the lift.

Without warning, I grab his left hand and hold it up to my face, staring at the silver band settled on his finger. It’s too fucking much. The room tilts, and I stagger on my feet.

“Coop,” I hiss, my voice nearly inaudible. “Coop. What the fuck is this?”

He groans and swats at me, trying to get me to let him go, but I just hold on tighter.

“Stop yelling, you banshee,” he murmurs.

“Coop. Seriously. Why the fuck do we have wedding bands on our fingers? Is this some kind of joke? Did Magnus put you up to this?”

“Who’s Magnus?” he murmurs.

“My brother, you fucker.”

He wrenches his hand free of my grasp and holds it up to his eyes. They cross slightly as he does, causing him to wince.

“I dunno. Don’t remember anything.”

I sink onto the bed and my head falls into my hands as I try like hell to recall last night but come up blank.

“You need to remember something,” I croak, and he just turns onto his side and groans.

“Can’t even think right now. Hurts too much.”