Unfortunately for me, several hours and three drinks later, Bailey was in no condition to be tied up—or do much of anything other than pass out.

When Siobhan handed Bailey that last drink, I had a hunch it might put her over the edge. I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should have, because by the time we got out of the cab, the drink had worked its way into her system and she could barely walk a straight line. And she tripped on the sidewalk. Twice.

I steadied her with an arm around her lower back as we climbed the staircase. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, why?” Bailey stumbled as we scaled the last stair.

“Easy.” I was having some vague déjà vu from the night at XS, though the circumstances were dramatically different. Better in every way—I was with her now and also, no one was throwing up. Not yet at least.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

I steered her over to my dresser and released her once I was confident she’d regained her footing. “You will be once you sleep it off, my little lightweight.”

“Sleep it off?” She looked up, making a pouty face that was both adorable and sad. “I didn’t think we were going to sleep. You said we could…”

“I love you, but you’re minutes away from having the spins, and that won’t be a good time for either of us.”

Bailey harrumphed a little sound of annoyance, like she knew I was right but didn’t want to admit it. I kissed the top of her head and turned toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. While she got ready for bed, I went down to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. When I returned, Bailey was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, looking pitiful.

She rolled onto her side, and the blanket shifted, revealing a sliver of my red Falcons T-shirt. “I feel gross.”

“You’ll feel better in the morning.” I set the water on the nightstand and slid into bed beside her.

“Then I’ll be hungover.”

“Drink something. It’ll help.” I picked up her a glass from my nightstand and handed it to her. She drained half of it before placing it on her side of the bed. When she settled under the blankets again, I pulled her closer, and she slipped beneath my arm, nestling against my chest.

“I ruined our night.”

“Not at all. Obviously, you’re not getting out of being tied up another time, but that can wait. Did you have fun?”

“I did…” She groaned, covering her eyes. “But why am I so drunk? I didn’t even drink very much.”

“You don’t drink very often, though.”

“Neither do you.”

Not anymore. Probably a handful of times since we’d been together. Maybe I still had some leftover tolerance.

“I’m also, like, twice your size.”