Chapter Four

OUR MESS

 

THE NEXT MORNING I AWOKE to something hard slamming into my forehead. Opening my eyes, cringing against the harsh light streaming in from the window, I found the offending item. Sitting on the ring finger of my left hand was a very large, pear shaped diamond ring.

My eyes widened and I sat straight up. A bad idea as my head began to pound, and it suddenly felt very heavy. Unable to hold it up, I fell to the side to lie back down and burrow into my pillow. I was stopped before reaching the mattress by a warm, moving, soft body. The person I landed on groaned, his arms swinging to wrap around me.

I froze, and so did the body, both of us halting our breath. Large hands roamed down my sides, then over the swell of my hips and butt.

A deep groan escaped the chest beneath my head. How did this happen? My gaze flitted around, realizing that I was not in my hotel room. My eyes shot down, and I sighed when I found my dress was still on, and so was most of his suit, though his shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal the sculpted chest beneath.

One of his hands moved up and brushed the hair from my face before tilting my head back. Weston’s eyes widened when they met mine.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ!” he cursed.

His eyes squeezed shut, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. I don’t know why, but his reaction made my chest tighten. I needed to leave, get away. Now.

Using the hand on his chest, I pushed up, lifting my body from the bed and his warmth.

“I . . . have to go,” I whispered.

He opened his eyes at my movement and his hand reached out, grabbing mine as I tried to remove it from his chest. “Wait . . . What the hell is that?”

My gaze followed his down to the large diamond ring I was sporting.

“I don’t know. It was there when I woke up.”

Quickly, he jerked his other arm out from underneath my body, his eyes widening when a white-gold band reflected in the light.

“Oh my God!” I gasped. “Did we . . . I . . . how . . .”

“I don’t know, but I think so,” he said in reply to my incomplete and incoherent questions. The same thoughts probably running through his own mind.

Jumping up, he staggered and grabbed his head, quickly stumbling back to the bed. Trying again, slowly, he walked out of the bedroom to the large dining room table and picked something up from the glass top.

He picked up another item, and then began mumbling and chanting “fuck” over and over.

“What is it?” I asked from the doorway, though, I had a feeling I knew what it was already.

“Well, Mrs. Lockwood, it’s our marriage certificate.”

Fuck. Me.

My stomach turned as I stared down at the tile floor that seemed to be disappearing from beneath me.

The night returned in bits. Fuzzy images, but I remembered fun. I remembered Weston and how good his body felt pressed against me. His lips on mine, his hands roaming and lighting up my skin.

I reached up to my rat’s nest of hair and remembered the feeling of his fingers tangling, knotting it up as we made out. Probably from dry humping and on the cusp of sex.

“I asked you to marry me, in the elevator after dinner,” he recounted as he stared down at the items on the table. “We went and bought rings, and we found a chapel on the strip.”

He was right. Vague memories surfaced, filling my mind with images of diamonds sparkling and walking down a short aisle to him. Though, I mostly remembered his body pushing mine against the wall inside that elevator. I stared down at the ring on my finger, entranced as I watched it sparkle under the light.

I lived in the dream for the smallest of minutes, wondering what life would be like with him. Because I knew that I wouldn’t be wearing it much longer. Soon, he would be returning it to wherever we picked it up.

And then we would go our separate ways, our next contact in the form of papers to annul our drunken decision. Nothing left but memories of the beautiful being, his magical lips, and the most wonderful day of my life.

A quiet sigh slipped from my lips.

“Annulment is probably best,” I said, taking one last gaze at the ring before looking up to where he was standing across the room.

His gaze shifted to mine, and I was shocked to see surprise in his features.

“Annulment?” He glanced back down to the table. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Best.”

He appeared saddened, not quite the reaction I was expecting. Turning, he moved past me and into the bathroom. I moved from my support and went to get a look at the certificate. It wasn’t the only thing lying on the table. There were a few photos of Weston and I, looking happy, excited, and in love as we said “I do.”

Did I just think we looked in love? No, it wasn’t possible, but sure enough . . . it showed in the pictures.

Oh God, my head was spinning, along with the light pounding.

Weston came out a few minutes later and stood next to me as I stared at the photos.

“Can I have one?” I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

“As many as you want, as long as I get one,” he replied.

“Whichever one you want,” I said.

I watched him grab the one of us smiling like fools for the camera. The rings sat on our fingers, and I was holding a small bouquet of white roses. It was the best one.

The room was quiet, neither one of us knowing what to say or do. It was suffocating, something I’d never felt with him . . . not that I’d known him that long.

“I should get back. Mom’s probably worried,” I said, turning and looking up at him.

He looked pained, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His arm reached out and pulled me to him, and I was once again—probably for the last time—pressed into his warmth. He kissed the top of my head, hard, his hand cupping the back of my head, as if trying to embed his being into me.

“I should go with you, let her know what’s going on. Give me a second to change,” he said, releasing me and moving back.

I stayed where I was to give him some privacy. That’s when I noticed just how large of a suite we were in. It was easily bigger than my house. It was lavishly decorated, and a vast contrast to the room my mom and I had floors below. Moving to the window, I looked out at the spectacular view of the strip in awe.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Weston’s voice came from behind me.

“Beautiful,” I said as I turned to walk back to him.

“Here.” He held out his hands. Looking down at them, I found my purse, shoes, and the pictures.

“Thank you,” I said solemnly, taking them from him.

I removed the ring from my finger and placed it in his hand.

“You probably want to return this.”

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice almost sounding sad, and placed it in his pocket.

The atmosphere was awkward between us, and I didn’t like it. I wanted what we’d had the previous day. But between our hangovers and what we’d done, I wasn’t sure there was a way to go back.

“We should go.” Reaching out, he laced his fingers with mine, and we headed out the door to tell my mother the grave news.