Something has died inside my mouth. I try and open it, but there’s a shitload of cotton in there too. And the fucking sun is blazing down on my face. No, wait. That’s the light on the nightstand, I think. This room faces west. And it’s morning, right? Sun’s in the east in the morning. I try and crack my eyelids, but there’s no hope of that. I reach up to pry my mascara-crusted lashes apart. Little flakes fall on my cheek. I sit up and Vaughn’s arm tumbles off my stomach. I force my eyelids open so I can at least look at him. God, that man is beautiful. I sigh and the stench of my own bad breath wakes me up. There is no way he will see me like this. I throw the covers off, trip over an empty bottle of champagne, and then fall onto the soft sheepskin rug. How did that get in here? I thought we left it in the dining room. I get up and make my way to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me so I don’t wake Vaughn. I look in the mirror. I’m a fucking mess. My eyes are ringed black like a raccoon from the makeup I never took off.
