Page 45 of Accidental Mile High Vows

“I had no idea it was your company. The offer just said Kryla Holdings.”

“My empire has a lot of layers.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “But you were there the whole time. Three floors down from me, and I didn’t know.”

“What did it feel like? Those three weeks?”

I’m quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Empty. Like I’d lost something vital and couldn’t figure out how to function without it.” I tighten my arms around her. “I’ve been alone most of my life. I’m used to it. But after one night with you, being alone felt wrong.”

She tilts her head up to look at me. “I’m sorry I ran.”

“Why did you?”

“Because I woke up next to a stranger and panicked.” Her voice gets quieter. “I should have stayed, maybe woken you up and talked to you. But I was scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of myself. Of what I’d done.” She traces patterns on my chest. “I have this condition. Alcohol affects my memory differently from normal people. Even small amounts can cause gaps, and that night in Vegas, I drank way more than small amounts.”

I listen as she explains it, and suddenly everything makes sense. The way she looked at me in that conference room like she’d seen a ghost. The fragments that came back slowly instead of all at once.

“You couldn’t remember because of the alcohol,” I say.

“I remembered the plane. Pieces of it, anyway. But everything after we started drinking at the club was just gone. Like it happened to someone else.”

We’re quiet for a while, just holding each other. Then she says, “What happened in Chicago helped. The kiss. It triggered something. I started getting flashes. Dreams. But they weren’t clear until tonight.”

“Until we made love again.”

“Yeah.” She sounds almost shy about it.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Calling Silas.” I pull up his number. “I need him to do something.”

He answers on the second ring despite it being almost 3:00 AM. “Boss?”

“I need you to remove all the alcohol from the penthouse tomorrow. Every bottle. Wine, whiskey, vodka, everything. I don’t care what it costs or where it came from. Get rid of it.”

There’s a pause. “All of it?”

“All of it.”

“Mind if I ask why?”

“Because my wife has a condition that makes alcohol dangerous for her.”

“Understood. I’ll take care of it first thing.”

I hang up and set the phone aside.

Savannah is looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Ledger, it’s your home. You should be able to drink if you want to.”

“I’d rather have water.” I cup her face. “It’s not even a choice.”