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Ryan wouldn’t be there on my special day—and neither would Ethan.
    My head was pounding as I climbed out of the unfamiliar bed and walked to the bathroom. I didn’t think I’d drunk enough to justify a hangover, but at least I hadn’t spent the night on the cold tile floor with my arms wrapped around the toilet.
    After my biological needs had been met, I grabbed my overnight bag from the closet and dug through it for something to wear. I dressed quickly in a pair of worn-out jeans and an oversized football jersey, and then gave myself a once-over in the mirrored closet doors. Although I was verging on homely, I didn’t look nearly as bad as I felt.
    “Shit,” I muttered to myself when I pulled my hair up in a sloppy ponytail and discovered that one of my earlobes was bare. My mother had given me the earrings I’d worn the night before for my sixteenth birthday, and they were the only pair I owned that didn’t turn my ears green.
    For over an hour, I tore the room apart in search of the small sapphire that dangled from a golden hook. Although all I wanted to do was leave, I decided to retrace my steps through the hotel in a last-ditch attempt to find it. I would not, however, be knocking on the asshole’s door. Nothing was worth seeing him again.
    Steeling my stomach, I pressed the call button for the elevator. Thankfully the car was empty, so I thoroughly inspected the marble floor for any sign of gold or blue during the short trip to my first stop two floors down. I was glad no one was waiting to get on when the doors opened, since I was still on my hands and knees.
    Staggering to my feet, I stepped out of the elevator car before the doors began to close. As I turned the corner toward the asshole’s room, my eye caught a glint of light bouncing off of a blue stone a few feet away. Pushing aside memories of being carried over his shoulder, I picked my earring up and turned to head back to the elevator alcove.
    A door slammed shut behind me, and I looked over my shoulder reflexively. My stomach twisted. I ran the remaining distance to the elevator and pressed the arrow. Fortunately, the doors opened at once—the car that had dropped me off was still there.
    I stabbed the button to close the doors what felt like a thousand times before the damn thing obeyed. It was too late. With mere inches to go, a hand sporting thick acrylic nails darted between the shiny doors.
    The woman stepped in and hit the button for the floor above mine. Her long red hair was matted in the back, and her pale green eyes were cloudy. No one looked good when taking the walk of shame, especially not when wearing a dress that reminded me of a giant Dreamsicle.
    Her lips curled into a smirk when she caught me cataloging her disheveled appearance. “Best man,” she gloated. “He’s an absolute beast between the sheets.”
    If there was any trace of a good girl left inside of me, it vanished when the doors opened on my floor. “Did his sheets still smell like me? I warmed them up for you.” A spark of satisfaction surged through me when the smugness on her face morphed to indignation. I walked away with my head held high before she could form a comeback.
    Abuela would have been very disappointed with me.

CHAPTER SIX
    Sawyer
    My phone rang as soon as I landed at LAX. “Ramsay,” I snapped into my Bluetooth headset without looking at the screen. I didn’t care that my bad mood was on full display; anyone who didn’t like it could kiss my ass. I grabbed my carry-on bags and headed toward the front of the plane.
    “Hi, my name is Marina, and I’m trying to reach Sawyer Adam Ramsay. Is that you?” For a moment, I’d hoped it was the girl from the hotel, but the voice on the phone didn’t speak with the same rhythm. I stepped around a slow-as-fuck old lady on the stupidly long and narrow jetway.
    “That’s my name.” It was probably a scam. I would have hung up if I’d had a free hand. I’d likely be trampled by the sea of bodies