I carry my tea to the sofa and let it steep on the coffee table as I take the fastest shower of my life, given the lack of hot water. I pull on some clean clothes and return to the living room to lie down. My feet hang over the end of the armrest. My shoulders are too wide for the cushions.

I’m a damn giant on this thing.

I shift onto my side and watch the steam rising from my mug.

The light under the bedroom door goes out, and the flat becomes still in the night.

What the fuck am I doing?

Chapter 2

~Izzy~

I hear rain.

Does it rain this hard in Aruba?

I stretch under the covers and frown at the soreness in my ankles and feet. I open my eyes and frown.

I’m not in Aruba.

I’m in Washington.

In a strange man’s bed.

Alone.

Yesterday’s events roll through my mind, from running out on the wedding to the long drive, and Keegan giving me a job. I should feel guilty. Sad. But I don’t. All I feel is relief.

I sit up and reach for my phone, turning it on. I’m sure I have dozens of messages waiting for me. After my dad sent me the pleasant message that I’d embarrassed the family, hurt his friends, and was fired and on my own, I’d turned off the phone and didn’t give it another thought for the rest of the day.

I yawn and rub my hands over my face as the screen comes to life, and then frown when I see I only have one missed text.

From Troy.

Where do you want me to send your shit?

That’s it. No worried messages from my friends or my mom. Just Troy wondering where to ship the few things I have at his house.

I do a quick Google search for O’Callaghan’s Pub, then copy and paste the address and hit send.

“Well, that’s pathetic,” I mutter as I get out of bed and open the bedroom door. I need the restroom and food, in that order.

When I walk toward the kitchen, I glance over and see Keegan asleep on the small couch in the living room. He looks massive on the tiny sofa. He’s lying on his back, his feet propped on the armrest, his arms crossed over his chest.

His very bare chest.

I guess standing and ogling another man less than twenty-four hours after fleeing the altar is a strong indicator that my marriage to Troy wasn’t a good idea.

But Keegan is long and lean, tanned and muscled—his abs are what a girl’s dreams are made of. And even in sleep, he has the slightest little scowl line between his eyebrows.

Keegan doesn’t strike me as a grumpy man, but he has that sexy crease.