Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I step into the dress, which has a zipper running down the back. I’ll deal with that later. At least the front of me is covered.
I scan the area for my purse. The room is huge, and the tiny clutch I’d brought with me last night is nowhere to be found, but there’s one that matches the dress on a coffee table. The small bouquet of flowers next to it is fuzzily familiar.
My head reels when I bend over to pick up the purse, and I have to brace myself with one hand on the table until things stop spinning. When I’m able to stand again, I’m relieved to find my phone tucked in the bag.
It’s when I’m reaching for my phone that I see the ring. The v-shaped one on my left hand that’s gold and lined with what appear to be diamonds and rubies.
I stare at it for a long moment before the sound of movement from the bed makes me jump. Conal’s turning onto his side, and my heart jolts at the sudden memory of how I fell for him last night, before things got too blurry to remember.
He was charming, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but there was an unexpected tenderness in the way he treated me.
As I stand there clutching my dress to my chest, his breathing returns to a slow, steady rhythm, and I let out a sigh of relief.
His arm is hanging over the edge of the mattress now, and when I creep closer, I find a wide band on his ring finger that’s the same shiny gold as mine, and looks just as new.
I half-expected it at this point, but it’s still a shock. He wasn’t wearing a ring last night. I’d have noticed.
I look for rings on the other two men, but can’t see their hands from this angle.
That’s silly, though. It’s not as if I could get married to three men. That’s almost as outrageous as the idea that I got married to the most famous rock star in the world.
I back away from the bed and make my way out of the room, through a doorway and into another dimly-lit room, this one even larger and decorated with elegant, expensive-looking furniture. There’s a dining area, multiple seating arrangements, a pool table, and a bar with shelves stocked with dozens of bottles of alcohol behind it. The space could easily be used for a large party.
Across the room, doorways are open to two seemingly unused bedrooms, with large, unmade beds. Everything is quiet; there doesn’t seem to be anyone here but me and the Curran brothers.
Floor-length curtains line one wall, blocking out whatever’s behind them, and I realize I have no idea what time it is, much less where I am.
My hand is trembling as I pull out my phone. Squinting at the too-bright screen sends a stab of pain straight through my skull. It’s 9:37 a.m. on January 1.
I send a “Where are you?” text to Bliss, and when it remains unread after ten seconds, I call her.
No answer.
The quivering spreads to my arms and legs, and I sink down onto the edge of an enormous leather sofa. Part of me wants to call my mom, like a little girl, but I absolutely cannot phone her about something like this. Which only leaves one person.
In search of privacy, I find a powder room and quietly close the door behind me before turning on the light. Even this much smaller space highlights the surreality of my current situation. The marble countertop, gold-plated faucet, and crystal light fixtures are all from a world where I don’t belong.
I sit down on the closed toilet lid, tap my sister’s number, and stare at my ring—which is blindingly sparkly in this light—while I wait for her to pick up.
“Happy new year! What’s shaking?”
I feel like crying when I hear her cheerful voice, and mine is trembling when I manage to say, “Ember?”
Her tone changes instantly. “Honey, what’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m … I’m in Vegas.”
“Vegas? Where in Vegas? Why didn’t you tell me?” She lives here now, but I hadn’t told her I was coming.
“I just wanted to celebrate. I knew you’d be with your guys.”
“Hazel, honey, tell me where you are.”
I look around me at the plush towels and fancy wallpaper. I’m in another dimension, and I think I’m in a lot of trouble. “I’m in a hotel room. I’m not sure which hotel.”
“Okay,” she says, calm and in control, like always. “And what’s happening there?”
Tears sting behind my eyes, and my head throbs. “I think … I think I got married last night.”
HAZEL
“We’ll be right there,” Ember says, and I feel several things all at once: relief that my big sister is ready to ride to the rescue; a bit of resentment (completely illogical, I know) that I would need her to rescue me; and uncertainty as to whether I actually want her to come.