Morning rolls around and Nate never shows. I wish I could say I'm surprised but I'm not. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't feel the same come morning. It's for the best though. Had I stayed with him the night, he would have kicked me out of his bed, and I don't know if my heart could have resisted that.

I stare at the wallpaper covered wall of my hotel room when I should be getting ready for brunch, but I can't be bothered. I'm in no mood to get all dolled up. Not after everything that happened with Nate last night. A part of me wants to see him again because no matter what has happened between us, I still love him, but the other part of me is afraid. What if he doesn't even want to look at me when we meet up with the rest of the bridal party? Not only will it make things awkward and unnecessarily tense, but it will also be hard to stomach. The last thing I want is for Nate to hate me but I know it's a very real possibility at this point and it's one I'm not ready for.

Nate was drunk when we talked last night. There's a chance everything he said to me before I left went out the window as soon as he fell asleep. I want to believe that's not the case, but the fact that it's almost noon and he still hasn't shown up at my door gives me my answer. An answer I don't want to accept. Not yet.

I want to give Nate one last chance.

I hear my phone vibrate from the nightstand and raise the volume of the show that's playing in the background, hoping it will drown out the sound of my phone, but it just goes off again.

"What now?" I mutter aloud and get up off the couch and cross the room to grab my phone. I see that I have two new text messages and bite my lip nervously.

I let myself fall back on the bed and feel my bathrobe open a bit, and panic when I remember I'm not wearing anything underneath. I try to cover up but then it hits me, I'm here by myself and there's nothing wrong with wearing just a bathrobe in the privacy of my own room. Hell, if I wanted to walk around naked, I could, but just wearing a bathrobe alone is a huge step for me. I never would have been comfortable doing this before but today I simply embrace it and relish the new comfort I've found in my own skin.

I take my sweet time getting to my text messages and when I'm finally inside the app and see who they are from, I sigh. This can't be good.

I open Gracie's texts, knowing I don't have any other choice and dread what's to come but I know I can't ignore her forever, so I read what she has to say to me.

Alexa!

Have you heard from Nate?

No.

He's not responding.

She texts back instantly.

Can you check on him?

Jared and I aren't at the hotel right now and I'm worried about him.

No.

Alexa, please!

I'm begging you.

No.

Pretty please with a cherry on top!

No, means no.

Fine. If anything bad happens to him, it'll be on your conscience.

I sigh out loud and don't reply anything back and throw my phone on the floor, feeling a new sense of hate towards the damn thing. It's doing me more bad than good. All it does is cause me problems I don't need.

I roll onto my stomach, grab a pillow and scream into it, letting all my frustration pour into this one poor innocent pillow. When I feel somewhat relieved, I throw the pillow at the wall and wish so bad, I could toss all my problems just like that. But sadly, life doesn't work that way.

I sit up and think of Nate. I mean how can I not. Gracie put him at the forefront of my mind and now I can't stop thinking about him. This is all her fault. Why did she have to go and make me feel guilty? It's not my fault she's worried about Nate.

If she's so worried, she can come back to the hotel and check on him herself. He's an adult after all and he can take care of himself just fine, I think with a huff.

I pace the room in circles and watch the minutes tick by very slowly on the old alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. When five minutes have passed, I feel my resolve crumble and groan as I walk over to my suitcase and throw on an outfit quickly.

I'm gonna go check on Nate and once I see that he's okay, my conscience will be clear. I won't have anything to feel bad about. Right?

Right.

At least that's what I'm telling myself to justify this craziness. He was supposed to come find me, but here I am going to him yet again. I'm sort of getting tired of this, but I'll do it for Gracie one last time and once I see he's okay, I'll just walk away and stop worrying about him once and for all.

Lies.

I sigh out loud, hating myself for being so gullible. Gracie knew what she was doing when she texted me. She knew I would feel bad and would have no choice but to check up on Nate. Ugh. Damn you, Gracie. She did this on purpose. She clearly wants Nate and I to make up and this is her way of trying to help make it happen.

I grab my room key, wallet, and my phone before leaving my room and head in the direction of Nate's room. When I arrive at his door, I raise my fist to knock but hesitate.

What am I supposed to say to him after how we ended things last night? He slapped my hand away and I walked out on him and told him I didn't believe we could save what we had and I can't exactly take it back. It's too late to apologize. And I'm not sure I want to after what happened last night.

Fuck my life. This is a lot harder than I expected it to be.

I can't just forget that he slapped my hand away. Can I? It's not like Nate to do something like that and I could see in his eyes that he truly regretted it once it registered what he did.

I bite my lip and sigh in frustration, closing my eyes. I remember the moment he hugged me from behind and begged me to stay with him. I felt like I finally had my Nate back but I'm scared of what I'm going to find on the other side of this door today. He may no longer feel the way he did last night and he may be angry all over again and I don't know if I can stomach that again. I'm so tired of all our fights and the back and forth. Why can't it all just end?

I scrub my hands over my face in frustration and brush my fingers over my curls before taking a deep breath and exhaling.

I'm going to be fine, I tell myself but I have a hard time believing it. I just want us to be okay again. But he needs to want that too and I'm scared he doesn't.

Fuck!

Why did Gracie have to ask me of all people to check up on him? This is going to be awkward. I swallow past my nerves and finally knock on the door.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

Four beats.

Five beats.

I lose count of the seconds when the door finally cracks open after what feels like forever and I gasp, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of my sails.

Miranda!

Miranda stands there with a smug grin gracing her too pouty lips and a white sheet wrapped around her naked body, her hair a disheveled mess. I have to admit it's all really convincing for a second but not convincing enough. Any other day I would have believed she slept with Nate, but today is not that day. I know better. He was drunk when I walked out on him last night, so I know for a fact that there's no way Nate slept with her after I left him, but she can pretend all she wants. It's not my business.

"Cat got your tongue?" she tells me as she leans on the door frame, feeling like the cat who ate the canary, but all she comes off as is desperate.

"Where's Nate?" I ask, refusing to take the bait. I wasn't born yesterday. I know she's trying to get to me and I could let her but I won't. Not today. I don't have time or patience for her shit. Nate is no longer mine. It's not my business who he shares a bed with, but even so, I have a hard time believing he'd succumb to sleeping with Miranda when he made it clear to me he never had any interest in her.

"Sleeping," she says with an evil smirk. "After the night we had, he needs all the rest for later," she tells me with a wink and I'm not surprised.

"Why do you always have to be such a bitch?" Two can play at this pathetic game. I'm not letting her get to me.

"You're just jealous because he chose me."

"I'm not actually because we both know he would never choose you," I retort with a bit of snark and I can see in her eyes that my words wound her. Good! She deserves it for being a clingy bitch with no boundaries.

"That's not what I heard when he fucked me last night."

"You know, I have a hard time believing that," I say with a roll of my eyes.

"Think what you want," she says with a shrug.

"You're not fooling anyone. I came to see him last night and he was pretty much drunk when I left him. There's no way he could have done anything with you and that I am certain of."

"What do you know?"

"More than you think," I retort. "Have fun with him," I tell her and start to walk away when I hear a loud groan from inside the room. I stop mid-step when I hear it again. The fine hairs on my arms prickle in alarm. I snap my gaze towards Miranda and see her demeanor change instantly. She looks nervous. Too nervous.

My heart immediately starts pounding a mile a minute when I see the change in her demeanor. Part of me wants to walk away, but another part of me keeps me glued to my spot and refuses to let me take one more step because something inside me tells me that something is wrong. Really wrong.

Miranda starts to close the door but I stop her before she can and push my way into the room.

"Nate!" I yell and start making my way towards the bed in the dark.

Miranda jumps in front of me and stops me. "What do you think you're doing? You need to leave," she tells me.

"Get out of my way!" I warn her.

"No! You need to get out of here! Can't you hear he's resting?"

"He's not resting! He's groaning and it sounds like he's in pain!"

"You're just overreacting. He's fine!"

"No, he's not. You did something to him," I accuse her and she doesn't even deny it. Instead, she goes on a rant.

"You just need to get over the fact that he chose me. He's mine now! He always has been mine! You just got in the way of our love."

I scoff. "He never chose you and he never will. And he sure as fuck doesn't love you."

"You don't know that!" she yells furiously.

"I do and you just have to learn to accept that and move on. Now get out of my way, Miranda."

"No, I'm not moving! You need to leave."

"I am not leaving until I see that Nate is okay with my own two eyes. Now get out of my way or you're going to regret it!" I tell her and shove her to the side.

I find the bed in the dark and feel around blindly until I find the lamp on the bedside table and turn it on. As soon as the light flickers on, I see a new bottle of liquor on the nightstand accompanied by two glasses. One empty and the other one completely untouched. My guess is Nate drank some more last night while Miranda just let him get drunk off his ass, seeing as he hasn't woken up with all the commotion.

Miranda truly is godawful.

I turn to Nate and see that he's still fully clothed and that makes my heart pound and not in a good way because seeing him clothed just confirms my suspicion. He didn't sleep with Miranda and the fact that he hasn't woken up this whole time she and I have been arguing is not a good sign.

I touch his forehead and cheeks and gasp in alarm.

He's burning up!

I don't know what's his temperature but it can't be good that his body temperature is running so hot.

"Nate, wake up," I tell him but he doesn't react. "Nate!" I yell a little louder and shake his shoulders. "What's wrong?" I say desperately and find Miranda staring at Nate with concern in her eyes. "What did you do to him?!" I ask her and she quickly masks her worried expression.

"Nothing! He's asleep!" she yells, but I know there's something she's not telling me.

"No, he's not! You did something to him."

"Yeah, I fucked him hard last night," she says with a giggle. A giggle I want to shove down her throat. Now is not the time to be laughing.

"Can you just cut the bullshit for one second? Nate's life is at risk right now because you did something to him and we both know it wasn't a tumble in the sheets. Now either you tell me what you did or get the fuck out. I don't have patience for your bullshit right now."

"I didn't do anything to him! I didn't!" she insists but I know she's lying.

"You know, when I met you I knew you were a bitch but I never imagined you could sink this low. When you love someone you protect them, you don't hurt them."

"You're one to talk," she says with a roll of her eyes. "You cheated on him," she says accusingly and it doesn't hurt any less than when I told Nate the truth and he threw my mistake back in my face.

"How..."

"How do I know?" she asks me and doesn't wait for me to answer. "Nate told me last night. He was really upset over it and wouldn't stop talking about how you hurt him. Me being the good friend that I am, I consoled him all night long."

"You're lying!" I yell at her, taking the bait and she smirks.

I hear Nate groan again and that's when I remember he needs me.

"Go feed your lies to someone else. I'm done," I say fed up. "Now get the fuck out of this room before I kick you out myself," I bite out angrily and she scoffs.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not going to tell you again, Miranda. Get out or I will make you regret hurting the man I love."

"You wouldn't dare. You're all bark and no bite," she says but she couldn't be more wrong. I guess she forgot about that day in the bathroom when I slapped her at Gracie's get together for the bridal party. I would love nothing more to remind her just how wrong she is, but I just don't have the time to waste right now.

I walk over to her and yank off the bed sheet from around her body and see that she's in her undergarments and I'm not surprised in the least bit. This was all one stupid setup for me to find them and think they had slept together. I knew better though and am so glad my gut did not lead me astray.

I shove Miranda forcefully towards the door until she's out in the hallway. She protests and begs to be let back into the room to get her clothes and belongings, but I don't let her and slam the door on her face before locking it. She pounds her fists against the door as she screams and pleads, but I ignore it and immediately go back to Nate's side.

I sit down on the bed and touch his forehead again only to realize that his fever is getting worse.

I run to the bathroom and grab all the hand towels I can find and douse them in lukewarm water before running back to his side. I place one on his forehead and the rest on his stomach. Any other time my heart would flutter at the sight of his abs, but right now I'm so worried about him, I don't have time to even think about that when I lift his shirt and cover his stomach in damp towels.

I leave them in place until they start getting cold and run back to the bathroom and repeat the process a second time.

I lift the towels when they've cooled off and touch his forehead. His fever is still really high and is not going down. I decide to try one more time and wet the towels all over again and place them on his forehead and stomach and hope and pray internally that the third time is the charm. When the towels feel cold to the touch, I remove them, drop them on the floor, and send a silent prayer up to anyone who will listen.

"I just want him to be okay," I whisper into the silent room.

I reach out and place my palm on his forehead. My hope is instantly crushed. And with it, my heart. His fever is not receding and I'm running out of options.

His fever is getting dangerously high.

"What did Miranda do to you?" I whisper and he starts muttering things and moving his head side to side as if he's having nightmares. I cup his cheek and whisper sweet nothings to him. He relaxes at the sound of my voice and the feel of my touch.

I breathe a sigh of relief and stand up to pace the room. "Think, Alexa. Think," I tell myself aloud as I walk in circles with my hands on my hips.

The towel method didn't work and medication is not an option because I don't have any and even if I did, there's no guarantee it would work. I could call an ambulance but it will be a while before they get here and time is not on our side right now. I need something more effective and quick.

Just as I'm pacing back and forth while thinking aloud, I turn towards the bathroom and that's when it hits me. The shower! Water can help bring down fevers. It's not ideal but at this point, I'm willing to try anything to keep him out of the emergency room.

I sit down on the bed beside Nate and grasp his face in my hands. "Nate, I don't know if you can hear or understand me right now, but you're running a fever and I need to bring it down before it gets any worse," I tell him and he groans. I don't know if that means he heard me, but I can't afford to wait any longer. I need to get him in the bathroom now before his fever gets to the point of no return.

I run to the bathroom and head straight for the shower. I turn the water and adjust it until it feels lukewarm. Once it's the perfect temperature I run back to where Nate is laying on the bed and send another silent prayer up so everything turns out okay.

"Nate, I'm going to move you," I tell him but it's pointless. He doesn't respond or even open his eyes. "Shoot. How do I even move you? You're so big," I mutter.

I try to drag him off the bed but don't budge him even an inch. He's way too stiff. I stare at him while I think and realize my best option is to use the bedsheet covering the mattress to drag him to the shower. It will be a bumpy ride but it's the most efficient thing I can think to do.

I quickly get to work and yank off the comforter and the bedsheets and throw them in a pile on the floor. Next, I remove the pillow from under his head and toss the others onto the floor along with it. I untuck the sheet he's laying on and thank my lucky stars because there's thankfully a second one underneath it covering the mattress. So far, so good. I just hope I have enough strength to drag him to the bathroom.

I grasp the sheet from the side his head is on and pull on it with all my might. I don't know how I do it but I manage to turn him towards the right side of the bed and move him little by little until I have him nearly on the floor. I never let his head or back touch the ground and keep dragging him off the bed until his feet hit the floor. Once I have him completely on the ground, I drag him backward towards the bathroom, making sure to keep his head and upper back off the floor.