A twenty-four-hour chapel, signatures on a piece of paper, and a man in a suit declaring us husband and wife.
I turn back to Josh, who is beginning to stir awake.
“Oh. My. God,” I say more loudly. “It wasn’t a dream.”
I just became the biggest Vegas cliché ever. We got married.
THREE
JOSH
Elbows on the table, I barely keep my head propped up on my fists as Tina paces back and forth across the hotel room.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters, hands flailing as her bare feet stalk across the rug. “You see people do it in books and TV shows, but who actually does it in real life?”
“Apparently, we did.”
That’s not the right thing to say if her glare is any indication. But it does get her to stop pacing. Thank goodness for that. She’s making me—and herself—dizzy.
Considering the hangovers we’re both nursing, neither of us needs to add dizziness to our list of symptoms. Not unless we want to fight over who gets custody of the porcelain goddess while the other settles for a trash bin.
“They should make you take a breathalyzer, or a field sobriety test before letting you sign a legal document,” she says. “At the very least, there should be some sort of twenty-four-hour waiting period.”
“It would be nice for us if they did,” I agree. “But I don’t suppose it does either of us any good now.”
“No, I don’t suppose it does.” She sinks into the seat opposite of me with a huff. “What are we going to do about this?”
“What? You’re not having second thoughts now, are you?” I ask dryly. “I’m hurt.”
She rolls her eyes, but immediately regrets the sudden movement if her wince is any sign.
“I know you’re joking, but it isn’t funny,” she says. “You didn’t run away from one bad marriage to land yourself in another.”
“True. Though, I distinctly remember us both deciding that you’ll be a much better wife than CeCe ever could be.” I give a short laugh. “At least you aren’t hiding any secrets and trying to take my money.”
Her back straightens. “I’m not interested in your money.”
“I know you aren’t.” I give her a tight-lipped grin. “So at least we have that working for us.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re actually going to stay married.” Her eyes narrow. “Does it?”
“No,” I sigh, done with teasing her for the moment. “It doesn’t.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“I’ll take care of it.” I reach for my phone as there’s a knock at the door. “But first, we should let them in.”
Her bright green eyes widen. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t worry. They’re here to help.” I urge her to stay seated and hobble my way to the door. I open it. “You’re here. At last.”
Tina watches as attendants push in four room service carts piled in every hangover recipe available on the strip. Her jaw falls open as two women in scrubs come in carrying medical bags.
“Did you call doctors?” she asks.
“Not exactly.” I slip bills to the room service attendants on their way out and lead Tina over to the couch where the techs are setting up. “You aren’t squeamish about needles are you?”
“No…”
