Do we, though? She believes that, but I suspect our secret hopes aren’t that dissimilar. Saying that to her now won’t do any good, though, so I keep my mouth shut and lift one shoulder. “Guess we’ll find out.”
“This is crazy,” she whispers, more to herself than me. “I must be losing my mind to agree to this.”
“Is that a yes, then, wife?”
“Stop calling mewife,” she grumbles. “But yes. It’s a yes. Let the record show that it’s a yes under duress.”
I chuckle. “Noted.”
“You know this is a terrible idea, right?”
Probably. The thing is, I’m the one likely to end up hurt, not Mira. Which makes this a terrible idea I’m willing to risk it all on. “Terrible or genius?”
“Terrible.” She sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. “Look, I need to get back to my room before someone realizes I’m gone and they find me here. We can talk about this more at home.”
Home. It sounds different coming out of her mouth now that we’re married. And it also sparks a fantastic idea. I’ll have to give my housekeeper a call.
I take a step toward my gorgeous wife and nudge her chin up with the side of my finger. Her pupils expand, and I don’t miss the way her breath hitches. “Okay, beautiful wife. We can talk more about this at home. Are you sure you don’t want a pair of my sweats and a tee?”
She shakes her head, tongue tied.
“Okay, then. Go shower. We’re supposed to meet everyone for lunch before our flights home.” I lean down to press a tender kiss to Mira’s lips, pleased when they part on an inhalation and she kisses me back. It’s difficult, but I pull away before the kiss deepens. Slow and steady. I’ll have to take this slow and steady if I want to win her over. To prove I’m not just some fuckboy who’s only good for one thing.
This may not have been a part of my plan, but it feels right, and I won’t screw this up.
“See you soon, wife.”
Mira shakes her head slightly, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
She turns on her heel and leaves, my laughter trailing after her.
ten
MIRA
I thinkI may throw up.
After stashing my wedding band in my toiletries bag, a long, extra hot shower, a first-class freak out, and a pep talk in the mirror, I make my way down to the hotel restaurant where we’ve all agreed to meet for lunch. Luckily, I didn’t run into anyone when I fled from Griffin’s room, and no one knows that Griffin and I are—gulp—married.
But I feel like they’ll all know as soon as they see me. Like there’s a neon sign blinking above my head that readsthis dumbass drunkenly married the left winger last night,and that’ll be that. Maddox will flip out, the guys will look at us like we’ve lost our minds, and Isla will try to tell me everything will be all right while my brother murders my accidental husband in public, then gets locked up for the rest of his life.
Oh my god.My husband.
The hostess points me toward a table in the corner when I arrive. I’m the last one here, which is unfortunate, because that means I don’t get to choose where I sit. There’s only one chair left, and it’s beside Griffin.
“You can do this,” I mutter under my breath before pasting a fake-ass smile on my face. One I hope is convincing enough. If anything, they’ll probably assume I’m hungover. Which I am.
“Mira! I was just about to come knock on your door to make sure you weren’t still sleeping.” Isla stands, wrapping me in a tight hug. “How late did you and Griffin stay out last night?”
I refuse to look Griffin’s way. “Uh, not too much later than you guys, I think.”
Lie number one. Something tells me I’ll have racked up quite the collection of lies by the time this meal is over. And I hate that. I hate that I’m lying to the woman who is going to be my sister-in-law, my brother, and the rest of our friends. I hate that Griffin has put me in this position. But mostly, I hate myself for getting drunk and doing something so epically stupid in the first place.
“What did you end up doing?” Maddox brings a glass of water to his lips and takes a sip as he studies me. Does he know something’s off?
“We went and saw the Bellagio fountains,” Griffin answers for me. “And an Elvis impersonator.”
Oh no.
