Chapter 92: Miranda

The sun that came through the slats in the blinds might as well have been a wrecking ball. The light hit my eyes with a blinding blow that amplified my hangover. I jerked the blankets over my head in search of darkness, but it didn't help. Last night was nothing more than a fuzzy memory at the moment-well, other than the whiskey-and then it all started to come back, bit by painful bit. Each scene that played out in my mind sent a zing of agony to my temples, and the moment I remembered telling Austin that I still loved him, my stomach lurched. Then it rolled.

With one hand over my mouth and the other flinging the quilt back, I then took off toward the bathroom. My foot slipped, and I found myself scurrying across the floor like a monkey. I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and lifted the lid to purge. I didn't need a reminder of how much alcohol I'd consumed while I sat at The Hut, but in case I'd forgotten, I now had a visual.