I refuse to become my mother. I just permitted myself to let loose for one night. I might not know much, but I know one thing for sure. Vegas never lets you leave empty-handed.
I walked away with what looks like a real diamond, and a husband, and I need to return both.
Shay is browsing the internet before the plane takes off.
Then, panic sets in.
Why would Finn marry me? Why did he buy this overpriced ring? What the hell was hethinking?
That’s just it. We weren’t thinking.
Ican’t remember shit. Damn that tequila. Tequila not only makes my clothes come off, but apparently, I make terrible decisions. Mental math gets fuzzy when you’re tipsy and he’s carved like a statue that charges by the hour. His smile was a sin in progress—hot enough to melt resolve and burn the rulebook.
“He’ll want an annulment,” I say.
“You don’t know that,” Shay counters.
“Why would he want me? He can have anyone.”
“I saw how you two were dancing, and it looked like you were both taken with each other. I mean, is it so terrible? To marry someone you can’t keep your hands off of? There was no light between your bodies on the dance floor. And, he can dance, that’s a plus in my book. How was he, by the way?”
She turns to me, and she can’t help but grin, anticipating the details.
“The most incredible night of my life,” I breathe out in a whoosh. I didn’t even have to think about it— it just rolled off my tongue. Then, I cover my face with my hands. “What will my mother think?”
“Your mother’s gonna love him. He’s handsome and loaded. What more do you need?” she snarks.
“Oh, she’ll love his bank account,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“Fair,” she says. “And the diamond on your finger. But he married you. By the way, did you leave a note or just skip out?”
I give her a side-eye. Like, does she really need me to answer that?
“Right. You ran. I swear you run faster than anyone I know.”
“You don’t know that many people,” I snark.
“True, but still. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he?”
“No. The problem is, he did everything right—exceptional,” I breathe the last word as if my next breath depends on it.
“You ditched a perfectly good candidate without so much as a ‘see you later’ or a ‘I’ll call you.’”
“Yeah,” I half-whine.
“The media will have a field day,” she mutters, clicking on her phone again.
“I doubt anyone will know. We’ll just get an annulment.”
“Yeah, like two people splitting up goes really smooth,” she says, deadpan.
“Oh, well, I doubt he wants to be married to me. So, there’s that.”
“That’s what you’re hoping for, huh? You skipped out so you could avoid dealing with your emotions, didn’t you? What if he won’t give it to you?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that. I think I need a drink,” I say.
“You want the dog that bit you or something non-alcoholic?” She chuckles. “We don’t want you marrying the next hottie who walks by.”
