Last night changed everything, but there was supposed to be a quick fix.
He pulls me against his chest. I breathe him in, and my heart settles. This really doesn’t look good if that old bitch walks out here. It might appear that we want to be married.
We. Do. Not.
Thank you.
I have to face it. We decided to get a licence, we went to a chapel, we said I do. She was right, I suppose; you can’t erase a mistake because you don’t want to own it.
“I’ll think of something,” he says, his voice calm and sure.
God, I appreciate him saying that, but what is there to do?
After a long minute, we separate. Brody and I walk along the street with a foot of distance between us, and we find a quiet café. There isn’t much chance of anyone seeing us because we’re not on the strip. I just think we’re both a little paranoid.
I wait at a table in the corner, somewhere quiet where we can talk, while Brody orders two lattes. I watch him at the counter waiting for our drinks. He’s wearing navy chino shorts and a white T-shirt. His dark hair is styled. He looks so put together, so fucking gorgeous. I could get lost in his dark blue eyes.
Biting my lip to the point of pain, I look down and stare at the table. That’s much safer.
Brody places two mugs on the table.
“Thanks,” I say, pulling a cup towards me.
“You doing okay over there?” he asks.
“Not really. You?”
He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I understand the seriousness of this situation, I’m not in denial, but it doesn’t seem real.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much where I am, too.”
I curl my hands around the hot mug and thank God for the ice-cold air blowing from above us.
“I guess the next step is to get a divorce,” he says.
A bubble of laughter escapes my mouth before I can control myself. “I’m sorry. That just sounds…”
“I know. It’s the only thing we can do now. It’s probably straightforward; we don’t have anything to split.”
I tilt my head to the side. “You own your apartment.” His mouth parts, and I roll my eyes. “I’m kidding.”
Brody lifts his latte to his mouth, eyes glaring, and the muscles in his forearms popping a fraction. I love forearms, and Brody’s do not disappoint.
“There’s nothing we can do now, is there? I mean, we’re going to have to take care of the… divorce when we get home.” The word divorce leaves a nasty taste on my tongue.
Brody’s head dips in confirmation.
“Right.” I swallow. “Well, I guess we should enjoy the rest of our time here and worry about this next week.”
“You can do that?” he asks.
“I’m not ruining your birthday trip as well as your life.”
“You haven’t ruined anything for me, Wren.”
Nice of him to lie. If I hadn’t insisted on coming, he would be out, having single fun and not holding a legal married status.
I take a sip of my latte. “You’re being nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you.”
“Not especially. I get it; we don’t exactly have tons in common, and I’m younger than the rest of you.”
I don’t want to think too much about it, but I like spending time with him—when we’re not getting married.
“We have more in common now. None of our friends can say they got accidentally married in Vegas.”
“I don’t think that makes us winners, Brody.”
Smirking, he replies, “Good story though, isn’t it?”
How are we joking about this?
Because crying right now wouldn’t help anything.
“Do you think everyone will find out?” I ask.
He winces, and that pretty much tells me everything. “I don’t know. They might.”
That means he thinks they definitely will. To be fair, I don’t see how we can keep it secret forever. There are records of marriages and divorces.
Sinking into my seat, I mutter, “I really feel like getting drunk, but I’m scared of what could happen.”
“We can’t be any more married.”
“We could get pregnant.”
His nose scrunches up like I just massively offended him.
“See.” I don’t want kids either. I mean, one day, sure. That day is way into the future.
We finish our lattes, and then there is silence.
Brody turns his mug clockwise on the table. Finally, he looks up and meets my eyes. “We should go, Wren. Are you ready?”
Am I ready to act normal? To pretend that I’m not married and have no way of erasing it without leaving a big, red mark. Like a symbol of failure.
This is such a mess.
My dad will freak. Luke will punch Brody. Mum will cry.
“I’m ready,” I say, despite the fizzing in my stomach contradicting my words.
Brody gives me a knowing smile. I’m full of crap right now, and he appreciates that.
We leave the coffee shop and head towards the brash strip. I kind of want to go home, but a marriage will follow me back to England.
“I’m not going out tonight,” he tells me.
“Look how well that turned out last night.”
He rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Wren, I can’t leave you.”
“That’s exactly what you need to do, or they’re going to get suspicious.”
Clearing his throat, he runs his hand through his hair. “Felicity already is.”
My heart beats faster. “What did she say?”
“She’s noticed a few things.”
“What things?”
“Flirting, looks—I don’t know.”
Looks. As in him looking at me?
I want to slap away the elation I feel at that thought. It’s plain ridiculous.
I can’t start fancying my husband.
“Oh,” I reply, clamping my lips together so I don’t follow up with questions. Lots of questions about whether he is looking at me and what that means.
It’s best to not go there. We need to get back to England and put some distance between us for a little while. Since Brody moved out of his parents’ house, I see him a lot less than I used to.
We’ve spent way too much time together here, and look how that’s turned out.
The strip is buzzing with noise and people as we make our way towards our hotel. All enthusiasm for my plans this week has gone. I don’t care about the boat ride in fake Italy or going on any big rides.
There’s a crushing weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe easy.
One night—one moment in one night—is all it took to royally screw my life.
“It’s not a big deal, being divorced, right?” I ask Brody.
His eyes slide to mine. “I guess not. Doesn’t something like one in every four marriages end that way?”
To be honest, I don’t particularly care about what happens in other people’s marriages. This one is mine, and it was a mistake.
“I guess.” I press my manicured nails into my palm until I feel the pinch.
“Wren, don’t overthink. It’s a label, and it doesn’t mean anything; not really.”
That’s where he’s wrong. It means something to me. But it’s what we have to do. I just hate that I’m going to be an eighteen-year-old divorcee.
“You’re right,” I lie.
Maybe he is right. I’ll still be the same me. I’ll be the same me who drinks a little less.
My phone beeps with a text as we reach the hotel.
“It’s Emma,” I say. “They’re already in the spa and they want me to meet them.”
“You should go. I’m going to find Luke and Mase in the casino.”
We stop inside the lobby, and Brody smiles. “I know things are screwed up, but it’ll be okay. Try to enjoy the rest of the time, Wren, okay?”
“Sure,” I whisper.
I return his smile before
heading to the lift. If I’m going to the spa, I need to change. Brody walks off in the opposite direction, heading to the casino.
He’s doing a much better job at being cool about this. My stomach is still swimming with nausea.
In my room, I change into a bikini and robe, and I grab my bag. I shoot Emma a text from the lift on the way down, telling her I’m on my way.
The lift dings, and the doors slide open. I step out and almost lose my balance.
I’m legally married, and we can’t make it go away.
Closing my eyes, I take a breath.
“Wren?” Emma’s voice is loud and brimmed with concern.
My eyes fly open.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, reaching me in record time. I’ve never seen her run so fast. “Are you okay?”
Shaking my head, I force my lips to smile. “I’m fine. I think I just need something sweet.”
“Come on. There’s a bar inside. I’ll get you a Coke.”
I don’t want a Coke. I want an annulment.
While Emma orders drinks, I join Felicity on a sun lounger by the spa pool.
“You had a good morning?” she asks.
No. “Yeah. Have you and Emma?”
“It’s been so lovely. There is some great shopping, and now, we’re relaxing in the spa. We’ve not moved from this spot in a while.” She grins. “There are a lot of hotties in here, so keep your eyes peeled.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Only thirty minutes. We’ve been in the pool, Jacuzzi, and steam room. You see anyone while you were out?” She asks the question so casually, as if we were home and might see people we know.
“I saw lots of people.”
Her eyes pin me to the spot. “You know what I mean. Anyone we know?”
My heart beats harder. “We only know Luke, Mase, and Brody here.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d seen them in passing.”
Then, why didn’t she name them? Her use of anyone tells me everything. She’s asking if I saw Brody. If he came with me maybe. If anything happened between us.
Yes, Fliss, I saw him at the courthouse where we were denied an annulment.
“They’re in a casino, aren’t they? And Vegas has this dumb no-under-twenty-one rule.”
“Law. I get where you’re coming from,” she replies.
“Here,” Emma says, handing me a Coke.
“Thanks.”
“You okay now?”
Felicity sits up and crosses her legs. “What’s wrong?”
“She looked faint when coming out of the lift,” Emma explains.
Well, if Felicity wasn’t suspicious before …
Her eyes slide to mine. “You were faint?”
“I just needed this,” I tell her, taking a sip of Coke.
She is definitely going to talk to Brody. As of yet, she hasn’t asked me anything directly about her brother, but she has mentioned me to him.
When she takes her bloody cocktail from Emma, I use the distraction to shoot Brody a text.
Wren: Your sister is suspicious AF. Asking vague questions about who I’ve seen this morning.
I don’t know when he’ll reply since he’s out gambling, so I set my phone down and lie back. If I can’t actually relax, I can at least pretend.
“Oh, look at him,” Emma says, tilting her head in the direction of a guy who’s just walked in. “Wren, he’s definitely your type.”
He might be, however I know that no good can come from men, so I’m staying put.
“He’s okay,” I reply.
“What?” Felicity rolls her head towards me. “He’s gorgeous. Go and talk to him.”
I take another sip of Coke. “Nah, he’s good-looking, but all I want to do today is chill.”
“Why don’t you ask him to join us?” she presses.
Really, Felicity?
She wants me to say there is something between me and Brody. I should go and speak to this guy and prove her wrong, but right now, I don’t think I can pretend to be interested in conversation. I should have told Emma I was busy and stayed in the room.
I smile. “Why don’t you go and talk to him?”
Emma laughs. “Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely your type, Wren.”
Felicity nods, and I can see it in her suspicious eyes—big, bright flashing letters that spell out Brody.
Been there, married that.
Chapter 17
Brody
I’m sitting around the blackjack table with Mase and Luke, unable to concentrate on a fucking thing. The lights in here feel overly bright today, and the sounds are amplified.
It’s almost over, and then we’re hitting the bar for a couple of hours before dinner and a club. Tonight, I feel like finding a sexy-as-hell woman to take my mind off the last twenty-four hours.
As hard as I try, I can’t quite convince myself that I’m not stressing the hell out about being married. Married. It’s much easier to say I’m going to forget it for now. Just because we have an out doesn’t mean I can relax until it’s legally over.
I’m scared to death of our families finding out. I’ve always been close to Wren’s family. Her dad is going to be so livid, and her mum will be disappointed. I don’t even want to think about what it’ll do to my friendship with Luke. I’d be pissed if this were him and Felicity. Beyond pissed.
I was supposed to take care of Wren. Instead, I let her drink underage, and I married her.
The guilt of what I’ve done grips my gut in a vice.
Luke nudges my arm. “Your go, man.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, looking up and getting my head back in the game.
We finish with me coming out the biggest loser. I don’t think I can recall a single thing that happened.
Mase laughs. “You tanked that, bro.”
“Fuck off.”
“Let’s get to the bar. I need to find a hottie tonight,” Luke says.
Snorting, I ask, “Have you slept alone since we got here?”
His proud smile is sickening. “Nope. Neither has Mase. You?”
I shrug. “I’m a little off my game.”
“This is your birthday trip. You should be balls-deep every night!” Mase exclaims, whacking my chest with the back of his hand. “Tonight, it’s on.”
Tonight, I’ll still be married.
I buck my head, thankful they’re ahead of me. What a ridiculous way of thinking. Wren is only my wife on paper. We don’t love each other; we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives together. Hell, before we got married, we’d never even kissed.
I’m single, and I can sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want.
“Did you seriously not have sex last night?” Luke’s eyes are wide, like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard.
I wouldn’t exactly call myself a player or whatever, but I’m also not holding out for marriage.
Though I did with Wren.
Shut up.
“Nope,” I lie. “Struck out in the end.”
Oh, I’ve had the best sex while we’ve been here. Explosive sex that I want to repeat over and over.
With your youngest sister, Luke.
“Mate,” Luke replies, shaking his head.
We walk into a crowded bar, sit on stools, and we order. It’s fairly packed already, but we’re not staying here all night. Maroon 5’s This Love fills the air.
Mase looks around the room. He’s on the hunt… for a girl for me. “Blonde. Two o’clock.”
Yeah, I like blondes.
“Too tall,” I tell him.
Luke scoffs. “What? Does it matter when you’re horizontal?”
“I’m not interested. I’ll find someone else,” I say, ignoring the metallic taste of my lie.
“All right, what is going on, man?” Mase asks. “You’ve been ducking off early, and now you’re acting like you’re a virgin.”
“Fuck off. I’ll find someone I want to sleep with. That girl isn’t it.”
&n
bsp; Luke narrows his eyes. “You’re just not usually this picky. That girl is hot.”
Ignoring them, I turn to my beer placed in front of me and take a massive swig.
“Bro, is everything okay?” Mase asks. His voice has changed from teasing to concerned.
“Yeah, of course it is.”
“We might joke and fuck around, but you can talk to us,” Luke says.
I can, and I know that. Things aren’t always light-hearted with us. I’ve had many deeper conversations with Luke and Mase. I find Luke easier to talk to, and I’m unsure if that’s because he’s not family or because he can be serious.
“Guys, there is nothing wrong. I just don’t fancy that chick enough to sleep with her. I’m looking though, all right?”
They concede then, and things somewhat return to normal.
Lifting his hand, Luke gestures for the bartender. “Can I get another three beers and three shots of tequila?”
“Sambuca,” I say. “We’ll do shots of Sambuca.”
“You’re such a pussy,” Luke teases.
Nope, just very much over tequila.
“It tastes like shit.” And marriage.
Mase shakes his head, discouraged, his dark hair flopping. “Hold on, boys. Look what’s happening here.”
I crane my neck to see about ten women walk into the bar, wearing bright pink T-shirts that have black script on the front—Bride’s Army.
A hen party.
Luke’s pale eyes pop. “Well, well, well.”
I groan inwardly and then I find myself saying, “I get first shot with the blonde in the gold heels.”
She’s gorgeous; it will be no hardship talking to her. Do I want to take her back to my room? I want to want that. I really do.
Mase playfully slaps my shoulder. “He’s back. I’m going for the redhead.”
Luke and I glance at him. Mase always goes for dark hair.
“Hey, in Vegas, we can do things we don’t usually.”
I wholeheartedly agree.
“I like this,” Luke replies. “Okay, I’m going blonde.”
All right, he’s more a brunette man, but Luke doesn’t typically have a type. He likes women. They just often happen to have brown hair. Aren’t there more brunettes in the world? He’s just upping his chances.
“You changing it up, Brody?”
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