86 The Morning After Revelation
The merciless morning sun streamed through the curtains I’d forgotten to close last night. My head pounded as if someone was using it for drum practice I groaned and buried iny face deeper into the pillow, trying to escape both the light and
consciousIESS
What happened last night?
My memory was a foggy mess of scattered images. The birthday celebration at Vera’s. too many cocktails. Sebastian Sinclair’s face hovering above mine. Wait, Sebastian?
bolted upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement as pain exploded behind my eyes. Had Sebastian really been here? Or was that just another vivid dream?
No, that couldn’t be real. I’d probably just dreamed about him again. My foggy brain must have conjured his image during my drunken stupor
The buzzing of my phone interrupted my confused thoughts. I fumbled around the bedside table and squinted at the screen. Six missed calls from my father, three from Cherry, and a dozen text notifications. What time was ur?
10:37 AM. Shit!
I swiped to call Cherry back, pressing the phone to my ear while massaging my throbbing temple
“Miss Shaw! Finally!” Cherry’s voice was unnecessarily chipper for my current state. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning!”
“Sorry I croaked, my throat desert-dry What’s going on
“The board meeting! Your father called three times. They were supposed to formalize your control of the company today remember? He sounded pretty upset that you didn’t show
The board meeting. The critical meeting where I was supposed to officially take over as CEO The meeting I’d been working toward for months
What time was it scheduled?” asked, already knowing the answer
Nine o’clock Mr Shaw rescheduled for tomorrow morning, but he wasn’t happy abou
11
I closed my eyes in mortification Thanks, Cherry I’ll call him back soon
After hanging up, I scrolled through my notifications. Most were from the group chat with Vera and our friends. With growing horror, I opened a video someone had taken.
There I was standing on a table at Vera’s restaurant microphone in hand, betting out what appeared to be a horribly off-key rendition of “I Will Survive The camera paused to show the amused faces of other patrons. then back to me as I dramatically pointed to an empty chair, shouting. This one’s for you, Alistair, you lying piece of -“before Vera tactfully cut the microphone
Lexited the video, my cheeks burning. Another thumbnail showed me attempting to demonstrate what I claimed was “advanced yoga” but looked more like a drunk person trying not to fall over couldn’t bring myself to watch it
How had I let myself get so out of control? I never drank that much. But between the insomnia I’d been battling and the stress of the company transition, I’d clearly reached a breaking point.
With a deep breath. I dragged myself to the bathroom Che face in the mirror looked predictably terrible-mascara smudged under my eyes, hair a tangled mess skin pale and drawn. I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away at least some of my shame.
As the steam cleared my head, fragmented memories from the night before started to return. Vera pouring shots. Some guy buying our table drinks. Me crying in the bathroom about everything I’d lost this year.
And Sebastian. Sebastian’s concerned eyes looking down at me. His voice, low and steady. His hand supporting me as I stumbled
Had he really been there? The line between reality and imagination blurred in my hangover haze
Eremembered his scent-sandalwood and something uniquely him. The feeling of his arm around my waist as he helped me somewhere. But then what? I concentrated harder, but the rest remained frustratingly blank
After arying off and putting on a robe, I shuffled toward the kitchen in search of’s offer and aspirin. My apartment was surprisingly tidy Hadmi I kicked off my shoes in the
ying was in order, no clothing strewn about
Weird
I reached for a glass, desperate for water to soothe my parched throat That’s when I saw it – a folded piece of paper on the kitchen counter. My heart thudded against my ribs as I picked it up with trembling fingers
The handwriting was elegant and masculine:
*Hazel
*There’s hangover tea in the blue tin and congee in the fridge. Drink water before anything else Take care of yourself.”
*Sebastian Sinclair*
I stared at the signature, reading it over and over as if the letters might rearrange themselves into someone else’s name. Sebastian Sinclair. Not a dream. Not a drunken hallucination.
He had been here. In my apartment. And apparently taking care of me while I was embarrassingly intoxicated.
With shaking hands, I opened the fridge. There it was-a container of congee, neatly labeled. I turned to see the blue tin on the counter, just as his note had indicated.
My mind raced with questions. How did he get me home? What exactly happened last night? Did we.. ? No, we couldn’t have. I would remember that, wouldn’t Even in my drunken state. I wouldn’t forget something so significant
But as my fingers traced over his handwriting, another fragment of memory surfaced- the sensation of soft lips against mine the scent of his cologne, and my own voice saying something about marnage and dreams
Oh god, had I kissed Sebastian Sinclair?
The room seemed to spin again, and this time it had nothing to do with my hangover
