I'm beginning to have a lot of regrets lately.
I wish I had used the ketchup instead of the mustard. My mouth tastes bitter... or it could be the guilt that tastes bitter.
I wish I had told Ryan about Ash.
I wish I had told Ryan about Grant.
Clutching Ash to my chest, I turn around, muttering every prayer I can to the skies and whoever's listening beyond because I know s**t is about to go down.
He looks just like he did the last time I saw him in person. Lean and muscular, tousled dark hair, brown eyes, and sharp features that would have any woman looking back at him appreciatively.
How I didn't notice the similarities before is beyond me.
It was probably the alcohol.
Even now as Grant looks at me with utmost disbelief, the slight slant to his eyes mirrors the look Ryan had on a f
