Page 22 of Accidental Vegas Vows

She clutched her glass of wine in her hand, preparing for the worst. “I already hate this?—”

“I’m married.”

Silence.

Utter horrible silence. Even the hot tub ceased its noise, seeming to have decided that now was the best time for it to get up to temperature.

“Say something,” I begged.

But she didn’t. She just stared at me, waiting, wanting more of an explanation. Even her expression didn’t change — just a blank, unending gaze.

“Vegas,” I offered, trying to give her a playful smile but falling severely short.

“Damien.”

“We’re getting an annulment.”

“Who is it?” she pressed, but from the disappointment coating her features, I could tell she was already hazarding a somewhat correct guess.

“Does it matter if I’m getting an annulment?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

I cursed under my breath and took another swig of wine from the bottle, and then another. “She’s an intern at Blackwood.”

“Of fucking course she is.”

“Actually, technically, as of next week, she’ll be a full-time employee.”

“How old is she?” she deadpanned, her bright red lips pursing.

“I think she’s twenty-four.”

“Christ, Dame. She could be your kid,” she groaned, setting down her glass of wine so she could have both hands free to rub at her temples. “You’re lucky she’s agreed to the annulment. Assuming you didn’t do a prenup ‘cause you were probably drunk out of your fucking skull, she could have tried to stick with you and force you into a divorce.”

The thought of that hadn’t even crossed my mind. “She freaked out when she realized what had happened. She wanted the annulment.”

“You’re extra fucking lucky, then.”

But it didn’t feel like it. Not when I was plagued with thoughts of her every Goddamn second of the day, not when she infiltrated my dreams at night, not when she was the only thing I could think of when I tugged myself to completion three times a fucking day because just the idea of her made me so horny I could barely function. That didn’t feel like luck — it felt like a curse.

“Try to keep your distance from her,” she sighed. “You don’t want her to change her mind and try to wring you for all you’re worth, especially now that you’ve got… what did you say his name was? Nigel?”

I cringed at the idea that my son could be named Nigel. “Noah,” I corrected. But she was right — if Olivia, for some reason, pushed for a divorce instead, custody would be a consideration. The money… I couldn’t care less about it. Having half of what I had now wouldn’t make a single difference in my life.

“Noah,” she hummed. “It’s a cute name. Especially if he looks like you.”

“Supposedly, he does.”

“Do I get to meet him?” she asked, her little grin creeping back into her features as she softened at the idea. “Noah and Lucas could be best friends.”

“No, I’m going to keep him from you forever,” I laughed. I hadn’t even given it all more than a passing thought in the back of the car the other day, but the idea of having a son who was genuinely mine and being able to introduce him to my family made my chest warm just a little bit.

Caroline reached across us, smacking my forearm with the back of her hand. “Asshole. I’ll just have to kidnap him.”

“Fucking try, Carrie.”

She laughed as I drank the last drops out of the bottle, the wind carrying her fit of giggles over the treetops. It was nice — calming, even, to see her relax into the idea like I wished I could.

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