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Sinners at the Altar

Sinners at the Altar


Description : Sinners at the Altar
A line of sunlight filtered through the window blinds and angled across Brian’s eyelids. Wincing against the red glare, he turned his face into his pillow. Something felt wrong this morning. He recognized the bed as the one at the back of Sinners’ tour bus, so it wasn’t because he was waking up in an unfamiliar hotel room. He was accustomed to life on the road and opening his eyes to a new city almost every morning, so why did he feel like something was different from his norm?

It was too quiet. The motion of the tour bus and the din of its engine were missing. It was such a familiar lullaby that his mornings felt off if he didn’t wake to the sound.

With a sleepy smile, he rubbed his face against his pillow, still trying to grasp full consciousness, and cringed as pain shot across the bridge of his nose. Fuck, his face hurt. And not because he’d slept on it again. He felt as if someone had pounded him between the eyes with a hard fist.

Probably because someone had.

All at once his mind grasped why the bus was stationary this morning and the reason his nose felt like it had been moshing with a wall in his sleep. They were in Las Vegas. Vegas. Myrna had agreed to marry him in Vegas. His botched bachelor party the night before had resulted in his worse-for-wear face, which meant…

Today was his wedding day.

Holy shit!

Instantly awake, Brian shot his hand out into the space beside him to find nothing but an expanse of empty mattress. Had it been a dream? The woman had been throwing off his proposals for weeks, so maybe he had imagined her telling him she loved him. Dreamed that she’d agreed to marry him. Brian’s heart panged unpleasantly.

He reached farther, needing the tangible evidence of her skin beneath his touch. More cool and empty sheet...
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