Once they got home, Andrew retired to his bedroom, his mind heavy with what he had discussed with Amelia earlier. He unbuttoned his shirt with a frustrated sigh, tossing it carelessly onto the chair by the window before running a hand through his hair. His conversation with her replayed in his mind like a haunting melody he couldn't shake off.
Could it be the same night she was referring to?
The idea gnawed at him, unsettling in a way he couldn't explain. He had asked for a call-girl that night, and the woman who showed up had been intoxicatingly beautiful and drunk. He, too, had been too drunk to care about anything beyond the heat between them, but now… now he was starting to wonder if that night was the same night as her bachelorette.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling s
