The key she handed me after we’d been kicked out of the bar read three-sixteen. Holding on to Anna as best as I can while she stumbles and sways, I follow the signs on the walls until we come to a stop outside the door to her suite.

“Whose house is this?” Anna asks, looking around dazed and confused.

“Oh Lord,” I hiss under my breath as I slide the keycard into the lock. She really is trashed. I can only hope that Nash isn’t back from his fitting with Harley and the guys, yet. That way, I can put her to bed, leave, and pretend as if this afternoon never even happened. But before I can even reach for the handle, the door suddenly swings open. Anna loses what little balance she had, crashing into me, and I would have fallen face first over the threshold if it wasn’t for the strong pair of hands gripping my shoulders and holding me upright.

“What the hell?”

I look up, collecting myself and Anna, my eyes widening at the sight of Nash standing there. His eyes glower in the muted light, looking at the both of us before focusing on Anna who’s still giggling like an obnoxious teenager. With a frustrated sigh and a muttered curse, he wraps his arms around his fiancée, effortlessly picking her up, and I watch from the doorway as he carries her through the small living area, continuing to curse under his breath the entire time. They disappear through a doorway to what I assume is the bedroom, and my eyes move to the coffee table, finding it covered in silver room service trays. And it is at that moment that I notice the candles scattered all over, their flickering flames illuminating the otherwise darkened suite.

Oh no. I immediately feel terrible and really awkward but, just as I consider an exit strategy, Nash returns, his eyes wide as he gapes at me incredulously. “What the hell, Murph?”

I hold my hands up in defense. “Hey, don’t look at me!” I shake my head. “This was all her idea. I barely even had two glasses of wine. She was the one drinking like it was Spring Break at Panama City Beach!”

Sighing in defeat, Nash shakes his head, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom as if in deep thought.

“You had plans?” I ask rhetorically, indicating the obviously romantic set-up.

He looks at me before glancing out over his handiwork. “Yeah,” he scoffs. “We had a fight earlier. I was trying to make it up to her …” He shakes his head again. “What a waste of time.”

“I’m sorry.” I look down to the floor a moment, feeling guilty even though this is completely Anna’s fault and none of my doing whatsoever.

“It’s not your fault, Murph,” Nash relents, and I look up to see his face soften as his eyes meet mine. With a shrug, he waves his hand in the direction of the coffee table. “Wanna come in for a glass of overpriced champagne and some chocolate-covered strawberries?” He laughs humorlessly, rolling his eyes.