“Decent?” He scoffs playfully. “You’re drinking free wine and still judging me?”
I grin into my cup, take another sip and the room slips into a quiet rhythm after that. Somehow, fifteen minutes pass and the bottle’s nearly empty.
I swirl what’s left in my cup, glancing at him. He’s leaning back against the headboard now, his cup in hand, and eyes a little distant.
“So…” he starts, and just like that, my pulse jumps. Here it comes. He hesitates, his thumb brushing the rim of his cup. “I did something,” he says finally, his voice lower now. “And I haven’t been completely honest with you about it.”
My stomach tightens.“What do you mean?”
He exhales, running a hand through his hair before setting his cup down on the bedside table.
“I—” he starts, pausing, his eyes searching mine for a s
