Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Things felt like they were finally looking up.
Until I turned with my tray.
And there he was.
Harrison.
My husband.
Whose last name I didn’t even know.
I didn’t even try to silence the growl that bubbled up and burst out of me.
“Are you following me?” I snapped, walking closer.
“I was here first,” he said, waving at his tray.
“Men like you don’t eat fast food. You were waiting for me.”
“Men like me?” he asked, head tilting to the side.
“Oh, don’t give me the offended look. Guys with five-thousand-dollar suits and six-figure engagement rings.”
Speaking of rings.
He had the matching platinum wedding band on his finger still.
“Why are you wearing that?” I snapped, dropping my tray onto his table and glaring at his hand.
“The ring?”
“Yes, obviously, the ring.”
“Because I’m married now.”
“Oh, God,” I grumbled, melting into my seat when my legs seemed to lose all their strength at once. “So, you’re just… crazy. Great. Fantastic. I’m married to a crazy guy.” I stuck a too-hot fry into my mouth and glared at him.
And Harrison?
He had the audacity to smirk at me.
“Are you always this cheerful in the morning?”
“You should count yourself lucky that you’re not melting in a bath of lye this morning,” I mumbled to myself.
“Where would you get lye around here?” he asked, unbothered by the threat of murder.
“I have my ways,” I said, my lips curving up ever so slightly.
“I bet you do,” he agreed, his eyes warm. “Well, I will leave you to your… impressive meal,” he said, his gaze scanning my tray.
I said nothing as he got up, taking his tray with him.
Though I maybe did turn to watch him clear his tray and walk out.
It wasn’t my fault the man was so damn attractive.
When I looked back at the table, I realized he left something on the surface.
Two somethings, in fact.
“Harrison!” I called, but he ignored me as he made his way out the door.
And, damn him, he knew I was in no shape to chase him down. Nor was I willing to leave my food now that my stomach got a taste and was craving more.
With a sigh, I reached for the rings.
I slid them onto my finger.
To, you know, keep them safe until I could make him take them back.
I slowly plowed through my food while glancing at my phone. I had dozens of people I could call. Seek solace in familiar voices. But, well, this was not a story I wanted to tell. At least not yet. Not until after I got the mess all cleaned up. Maybe then, it would be funny. Just a story to tell everyone about how lethal tequila was. And how easy it was to make life-changing choices in Vegas.
Until then, I felt like I needed to keep my mistake to myself.
So instead of reaching for comfort, I turned toward practicality and started searching for local lawyers.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at how many there were that proudly proclaimed that they dealt almost exclusively in ‘quick, efficient’ annulments.
How many people woke up wed each year? How many felt the same regret and embarrassment that I did right then?
How many of them had six-figure engagement rings from delusional men who didn’t want to get divorced?
On a sigh, I cleared my tray and got yet another coffee to go before making my way back out into the heat.
It was uncharacteristically warm for spring. It was barely pushing eleven, and it was already in the mid-eighties.
I made it maybe halfway to the office before I couldn’t take the foot pain any longer and ducked into a shop to grab a pair of sandals. I tossed my heels. I felt like everything from the night before needed to go in the trash. Scorched earth.
When I looked up, my blood ran cold.
Because there it was.
A stupid Vegas wedding chapel.
With a freaking 24-hour drive-up wedding window.
Because that was a totally necessary service.
I was suddenly pissed off at the whole mass marriage business model.
Who in their right mind thought it would be smart to offer to let very drunk people get married without any sort of waiting period? Without any thought at all?
I was sure it all came back to money, to a service that could be used to make a select few people very rich. While screwing up countless lives in the process.
Like mine, dammit.
A memory flashed.
Gone in a split second.
But I remembered that chapel.
That sign out front with the hearts.
Stumbling inside with Harrison at my side.
Before I could think better of it, I found myself crossing the street and beelining for the chapel.
Because maybe, just maybe, I could skip the whole lawyer part of this.
We had to have gotten married sometime late the night before. There was no way someone had submitted the paperwork right away, right? Surely that was something that was done during normal business hours.