I don’t know why I say it because I told myself for the past four hours that I was not going to bring it up. I was not going to let the hurt of him not wanting to be with me affect anything. He married me because he had to, not because he wanted to, the voice chants over and over in my head. The thought cuts me right through the heart, and no matter how many times I’m blinking away the tears, they fall anyway. “It’s a rough day when your husband can’t stand your touch and runs off to shower.” I watch his eyes and then see his mouth hang open as I put my cup of coffee beside me. “There is a certain look we have to give the public.” I start to say my speech that I also spent the night thinking of. “So in public, we can be all lovey-dovey, but when we are behind closed doors, it’s just Beau and Savannah, best friends.” The sting of the words are so much more when they are out of my mouth and not just in my head.

“What the fuck?” he says, putting his own coffee cup beside him. “What did you just say?” I look at him as he stands there, his shorts low on his hips and his chest perfect and chiseled. His black hair falls across his forehead, and his beauty makes my heart hurt.

“I just stated the obvious,” I say, not even caring anymore. “I obviously wanted to.”

“You wanted to what?” His voice comes out in almost a growl. “You wanted to get so shit-faced so you could muster up being with me?” His words shock me, and if I wasn’t leaning on the island, I would have stumbled back.

“What?” I whisper.

“You drank all night.” He points at me. “All night, you had to drink in order to actually kiss me.”

“Me?” I say, pointing at my chest. “You think I drank all night because of that?” My head is spinning as I take in his words.

“Well, you start drinking, and then all of a sudden, you can touch me and kiss me,” he says, looking out the window and then looking back at me with hurt in his eyes. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what was happening.”

“For your information,” I say, my voice going just a touch louder. “I was drinking to muster up the courage to tell you all the things I wanted to tell you.” I almost stomp my foot like a child having a tantrum. I don’t give him a chance to say anything. I waited too long for this moment to back down now. “I sat there and asked you if you have ever been in love with someone,” I remind him. “I know I asked the question, but I wasn’t ready for the answer.”