“Well,” Trina says, her stern voice breaking the heavy silence. “If it isn’t the newlyweds.”
Newlyweds? Did I go to a wedding last night? Who got married?
My gaze snaps up so fast that the movement makes me nauseous and I have to steady myself with a hand on the wall. I swallow back the rising bile and see Trina with her hands on her hips, leaning against the wooden table covered in candy wrappers and tiny liquor bottles and…a bouquet of white lilies. I crinkle my brow, and the faintest memory flits through my head, so distant, it might as well have been a dream.
“No roses. My future wife hates roses. She loves lilies. Lilies only for my beautiful bride.”
“Oh no,” I whisper, my fingers coming up to meet my lips.
A booming snore echoes through the room, and I look towards the noise to find the memory wasn’t a dream.
It was a goddamn nightmare.
There, wearing just his birthday suit in the middle of the king-sized mattress I emerged from a moment ago with his face down and ghost-white ass up, is Ryder.
“Bet you wish you knew that your husband snored before you said ‘I do’, huh, Mabes?” Mom says, and reality comes crashing down around me. The contents of my stomach demand exit, and I rush into the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before I’m doing my best impression of that chick fromThe Exorcist. I heave over the lid, hoping that with each expulsion of sickness, I might somehow rid myself of the truth and the consequences of my actions, but it’s no use. It’s like each wave of nausea is followed up by a little more sobriety, and more of last night comes into view.
The shots we took with Kitty and Lola.
The burlesque show and all the slinky, seductive women on the stage determined to turn me on beyond rational thinking.
The dancer who dared Ryder and I to make out and the way we happily obliged.
The sloppy kisses we shared when that first onewasn’t enough, shoving each other against walls in our attempts to get closer.
The look of conspiratorial glee on Ryder’s face when we stumbled upon the 24/7 wedding chapel.
And the lilies.
The lilies that, even in my drunken state, turned my heart into goo.
Most days, I find it impossible to keep my eyes off of you.
Someone comes up behind me and pulls my knotted hair out of my face, and I’m momentarily relieved until I hearhisvoice.
Myhusband’svoice.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby girl. It’s okay.”
Ryder’s soothing tone has my gut churning again, and he smoothes a hand over the blanket covering my back while I vomit. I’m too hungover to fight my body’s instinct to lean back into him, nor do I have the energy to swat his hand away when he wipes the corners of my mouth with a wad of tissues. I notice that he’s no longer naked but is wearing an oversized ‘Welcome To Las Vegas’ t-shirt that smells like burnt plastic like a dress. My stomach is empty, but that doesn’t stop me from gagging when I realize I’m still not wearing any clothes under my blanket. I twist so I can face Ryder, and even though this position feels almost like he iscradling me like a baby…or a new bride…I’m too hungover to give a shit.
“Oh god. We really fucked up.”
“I know, Mabel. We’re gonna fix it, don’t worry.”
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
He tilts his head, his bloodshot eyes roaming all over my face.
“Bits and pieces, yeah. It’s all really messy though. Pretty much everything after we met Kitty and Lola is a blur.”
“Did we…” I trail off, swallowing back the rest of my question, but Ryder doesn’t need the words to know what I was asking.
“No, we didn’t have sex.”
“How do you know? I’m naked under here, and you were sleeping naked, too. And I think we made out last night. Like, a lot.”
The remnants of my red lipstick smeared around his mouth are proof of that.
