Waking up Married

Chapter 2

The restaurant emptied like it had all the time in the world. Meanwhile,the divorce papers laid on the table. Neatly signed.I've been publicly replaced by a pregnant mistress at our own anniversary dinner. The waiter returned with the bill and slid it across the table.

I handed him my black card without glancing at the number.“Actually,” I said, voice barely steady, “bring me your most expensive bottle.” He blinked. “Ma’am?” I repeated myself louder this time. “Alcohol. Something that costs enough to make tonight feel less disgusting.” He nodded. Minutes later, a bottle arrived. French rare wine. Absurdly priced.

He poured the wine into my glass. I took one sip at first. Then I  lifted the bottle to my mouth and drank straight from it. The feeling was sharp and punishing. Exactly what I deserved for believing Ryan Ashford loved me. 

I drank again and again.The chandeliers blurred into molten gold. The table candle drowned in its own wax. So did my dignity. I lost count of bottles after the second bottle. 

My mascara was probably staging a coup down my cheeks. Cinematic. I laughed. It cracked into a sob halfway through.

“Ma’am, we’re closing.” I looked up. The waiter had a twin. Or I was hallucinating. “How unfortunate,” I murmured. 

I shoved the card into my bag, grabbed the half-empty bottle, and pushed to my feet. The room pitched violently. Gravity still worked.I braced myself against the table. I tried to maintain dignity, but it was far from me.

I finally managed to get to the outside world.Everyone was alive and functioning. I walked. Or tried to walk.Tears blurred my eyes into a watercolor nightmare. “I hate him,” I told the pavement. A couple side-stepped me like I carried a disease. Cowards.

I had no destination. Just motion. If I stopped, I’d have to process it. And processing it felt like swallowing glass.

Tires whispered against the curb beside me. I ignored it at first. But it was too busy unraveling. The car kept following me slowly. Black and tinted. I finally looked at it. “Are you stalking me?” The passenger window slid down.

And there he was. A face carved from quiet arrogance and obscene wealth. He looked at me like I was an equation he’d already solved.

“You’re drunk,” he said. Voice low and annoyingly smooth. “Brilliant deduction.” I said, still holding my bottle tight. His eyes dropped to the bottle. Then to my face. 

“You shouldn’t be alone.” I didn't reply, I only minded my bottle of wine  “Get in.” He asked. “No.” I responded sharply. “You’re barely upright, get in before you fall."

“Please just go away.” At that point I was already  drained. All I needed was to sleep my whole life away. His eyes moved to my left hand. It was empty.Just a pale band of skin where my wedding ring had lived for three years.

Something shifted in his expression. He pushed the door open. “Get in, Elena.” I froze. “How do you know my name?” He didn’t answer. My drunken brain skipped safety protocols entirely.

“You’re freezing,” he added. “It’s two a.m. You’re holding a bottle of wine like a tragic film protagonist.”

I staggered to the car. He watched me count my steps on my heels. I got into the car. The leather swallowed me like a heated confession.

I exhaled. “This is nice.” He closed the door. And pulled into traffic. The inside of the car smelled like sandalwood and power.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Adrian.” He answered. “Just Adrian?” He ignored me. He drove like everything in his life happened on schedule. Unlike mine, which currently resembled a controlled demolition.

“I got divorced tonight,” I announced. “I Know.” He said without looking at me. “He left me for his pregnant mistress. He brought her to our anniversary dinner.”

His knuckles tightened on the wheel. Just for a second. “That,” he said quietly, “is exceptionally cruel.”  Finally, I got validation. 

I pointed a shaky finger. “Exactly.” He looked at me. “You’re handling it well.” I laughed until I choked. “Oh, I’m not handling it at all.”

Tears spilled again. Adrian handed me a linen handkerchief from the console. Of course he carried handkerchiefs. Rich psychopaths did.

A heavy silence settled between us.Then he spoke. “Do you want revenge?”The words sliced through the alcohol fog.“What?”

“Your ex-husband.” Eyes still on the road. “Do you want revenge?” I looked at him. “Hypothetically?” I asked him. “Yes.” I thought of Ryan’s cold eyes. Vanessa’s hand resting on her stomach. The signed papers. The walk-out. The way he’d erased me like I was a typo. Something dark uncoiled in my chest.

“Yes,” I whispered. Adrian nodded. Like I’d just approved a merger. “Good.” He turned the wheel. Pulled into a brightly lit lot.

I squinted through the windshield. It was a neon cross. A chapel. “Why are we here?” He parked. Turned to me. His eyes locked on me.“Because,” he said evenly, “there’s no cleaner revenge than replacing him by sunrise.”

I smiled, even though I didn't clearly understand him.He stepped out of the car. My drunk brain made a catastrophic executive decision.I followed him. The next hour dissolved into strobe lights and fragmented reality.

“Names?” I giggled like I knew what was going on. Adrian answered smoothly. Forms slid across a plastic desk. I signed. Adrian’s hand brushed mine. Warm and steady. A velvet box opened. He slid the ring into my finger. 

Someone said, “Congratulations.” Polite applause echoed off the cinder block walls. My vision blurred deeper.And darkness swallowed me entirely.

***

Sunlight speared through my skull like a tactical strike.I groaned. My head felt packed with ground glass. I woke up in a penthouse suite. Fear took over my chest. Where was I? How did I get here?

Last night memories creeped back in jagged pieces. Restaurant. Divorce. Alcohol. Street. Car. Adrian. My breath seized. A cold weight pressed against my ring finger. I slowly looked down. A ring on my finger. Massive. Brutally elegant. Diamonds catching the morning light like shattered ice. Not my old band.  I stared at the stone until my vision blurred.

I got divorced last night. And by dawn, I was already married again. To whom? To what? A low voice cut through the panic.

“You’re awake.” I whipped around. Adrian stood in the doorway. Black shirt. Sleeves rolled. Looking infuriatingly awake. Like he hadn’t casually detonated my entire life. My mouth opened.

“What,” I snapped, “did we do?” He stepped inside. Eyes locked on mine. Then bent over to the bed.“We got married.”

I sat up in confusion. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He crossed the room. Stopped at the foot of the bed. “You signed the documents. You took the ring. You said yes.”

“I was drunk!” I screamed. “So was I,” he said calmly. “But the state of Nevada doesn’t care.” He reached into his pocket. Slid a folded document onto the silk sheets.

I didn’t touch it. I couldn’t breathe. “Who are you?” I whispered. “Adrian Kane.” The name hit like a physical blow.  This must be some sort of nightmare, I need to wake up properly.