Blood drained from my face as I clenched the fork. The tasty omelet turned to dust in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, scooping up egg. “We didn’t use a condom, did we? Guess that’s water under the bridge at this point.”

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. It was truth time. Hopefully not crash and burn and sob time. I placed my fork on the table. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to start this conversation.

A piece of fluffy egg dangled off his fork as he sat back against the chair. His brows rose. “Is there?” The tone was level, but it made me shiver nonetheless. “About what, Roxy?”

“That night.” I swallowed, and the small amount of omelet I had eaten soured in my stomach. “When I drove you home.”

He stared at me a moment and then finished off his omelet. Pushing his plate back, he rested his bare arms on the kitchen table. “What about that night?”

My heart was pounding like I’d just done sprints up and down my hall. “I honestly don’t even know how to say this, other than I wish . . . I wish I’d talked to you sooner and realized that you weren’t regretful of sleeping with me. That it was more of you regretting being so drunk. I was just so embarrassed and mad—­”

“Yeah, I know you were mad. That’s nothing new,” he cut in. “And like I said, I wish I had clarified what I was saying when I had the worst hangover known to man.”

Me, too, but that wasn’t the point. Like Charlie had always said, I was kind of the act-­first-­and-­never-­ask-­questions kind of gal. This mess was mostly my fault. “That night, once we made it back to your place, things got . . . well, they got really hot and really quick.”

“I figured as much,” he commented dryly.

Lowering my gaze, I blew out a long breath. “When we got back to your bedroom—­which is a really nice bedroom by the way. Totally loved your bed. It’s huge. Nice comforter, too.”

“Roxy.” His lips twitched.

I dropped my hands to my lap, curling them into tight fists. “We didn’t have sex, Reece.” There. I said it. Like pulling off a band aid.

His brows knitted together as he tilted his head to the side. “What?” he laughed.

“You . . . you passed out before anything could happen. We didn’t have sex.” Saying it out loud made it easier to keep going. I met his disbelieving stare. “We started to, but you passed out, and I stayed with you to make sure you were okay. I didn’t realize you were that drunk until then.”

Reece stared at me.