Duke stands frozen in the doorway. I can see the war playing out across his face—correct her, explain the situation, admit this whole thing is a drunken mistake that we’re going to undo as soon as possible.
The silence stretches a beat too long.
“We’re fine,” I hear myself say. “Thank you.”
The woman’s smile widens. She sets the champagne on the entry table and practically floats away.
Duke closes the door slowly. Turns to face me.
“So.” His voice is carefully neutral. “Honeymoon suite.”
I look around the room. The champagne. The ridiculous luxury. The wedding video still paused on his phone, Drunk Me frozen in a moment of pure joy.
And then, impossibly, I start to laugh.
It bubbles up from somewhere deep—slightly hysterical, edged with panic, but real. The absurdity of it all crashes over me. Twenty-four hours ago, I was crying into ice cream on my couch, convinced I’d never be happy again. Now I’m sitting in a Vegas honeymoon suite, wearing a wedding ring, having gotten married to my best friend…on Valentine’s Day. My best friend, who drove across the country, then dragged me on a flight to Vegas to see my favorite musician perform, and arranged for me to meet her.
Duke stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
Then his mouth twitches. The corner lifts. And suddenly he’s laughing too, slumping back against the door, one hand pressed to his face.
“This is insane,” I manage between gasps. “We always said if we weren’t married by thirty…”
“Completely insane. And we’re past thirty…”
“We got married byElvis. On Valentine’s Day!”
“We have ahot tub.”
The laughter fades slowly. Duke is watching me across the room, his expression softer now, that almost-smile still playing at his lips.
“Maybe we should just... enjoy today?” The words surprise me as much as they seem to surprise him. “I mean—we’re here. We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”
Duke considers this, and I can’t quite read his expression. Hope? Fear? Some complicated mixture of both? I’m probably overthinking it.
“Yeah,” he says finally. His voice is rough. “Okay. Today, we enjoy it.”
I tell myself it’s practicality. We’re in Vegas. We have this beautiful suite. Why not make the most of it before we have to face reality?
But underneath the logic, a dangerous little thrill at the word “honeymoon” buzzes through me.
I twirl the ring on my finger and remember the way that the way Duke looked at me in that video—like I was the love of his life.
Could that actually be real?
I push the feeling down. We’ll get the annulment. We’ll go back to being friends. Everything will be fine. It has to be.
Right?
CHAPTER 5
DUKE
Mr. and Mrs. Coleman, welcome to the spa.”
My stomach somersaults hearing Riley referred to as my wife. Riley’s fingers twitch against mine, and I can tell it catches her by surprise, too.
The hotel spa has soft music and fragrant air, which I assume is meant to be calming. I’ve never been less calm in my life. I suggested this because Riley deserves to be pampered, but sitting here in a plush robe and slippers, I feel more exposed than I ever have in combat.
