Page 30 of Accidental Vegas Vows

Across the road from me, alight with the buzz of excitement that a Friday evening brings after school, the Mission Bay Kid’s Park was full to the brim with exhausted parents and energized kids. As a man, I knew it wasn’t ideal for me to stop, to take in what would likely become my life soon — but I found myself leaning against the fencing anyway, my arms draped over the rail, absolutely fascinated.

Parents from every walk of life either held their child’s hand as they went down the slide or stood off to the side with their arms crossed, eyes glued on the energetic mini-me’s they’d created, watching them like hawks as they climbed and swung and see-sawed. Some looked genuinely happy to be there, their faces lit by the joy they saw in their children.

Others, though, looked as though they just wanted to be in the college years already.

I couldn’t help but wonder which one I’d be. I’d never been particularly great with children, but I never disliked the idea of having one myself. Taking in a five-year-old I’d never met could swing me in either direction — hatred for the way it changed my life, or a deep appreciation for something I hadn’t asked for but received on a silver platter. But I hoped it was the latter. I hoped that I did not wish he’d grow up as quickly as possible.

My life was messy, though. Full of too much time and yet not enough, with a wife I’d married on a whim and a business to run. And as much as I wanted to see Olivia again, as much as I’d been tempted to call or text her the last three days, involving myself with someone who I was actively trying to legally remove myself from felt like a bad decision, especially when I considered a child being a part of that. I needed to make as much space as I could for Noah, and letting this woman consume my thoughts didn’t exactly allow for that.

————

With the sun entirely below the horizon and the stars out in full glory, I lounged on my veranda, the low hum of cars on the streets around me fading into the background. I knew what I needed to do — I’d known it for a few hours now. I just hadn’t worked up to it yet.

It was nearly nine in the evening when I finally decided to call her. She answered on the third ring, and hesitant, non-committal hello? creeping down the line of the phone.

“I need to be honest with you,” I sighed. I looked up to the night sky as I rubbed at the corners of my jaw, desperately trying to release the pounds of pressure in my muscles from being tensed all day.

“Honest how?” Olivia asked. I could hear the shifting of her phone, and a second later, the background noise amplified as if she’d put me on speaker. The unmistakable sound of the unscrewing of a cheap bottle of wine filtered through.

“My life is about to change. Drastically,” I explained. “And although I appreciate that you weren’t exactly looking for a relationship with me, I need to… draw that line in the sand. From my end.”

Silence. Silence, and the harsh sound of wine being poured into a cup.

“I know we’re getting an annulment. I know that’s what you want, and don’t get me wrong, I want that too. But I need to put all of my focus into handling this, and that means I need to cut this off before it turns into anything else — whether that’s a casual thing, something entirely different, or even nothing at all once the annulment goes through.”

A beat of quiet passed before she spoke. “And you didn’t consider this before having me over the other night?”

Shit. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come over. I shouldn’t have initiated it. We shouldn’t have done what we did, and that was on me.”

A click from her tongue was silenced as the sound of her sipping her wine filled the line. “We shouldn’t have done what we did is a funny way of saying you shouldn’t have taken my virginity.” I could hear the little clips of anger in her voice, could feel the small stab she made with each word. She was right though — she deserved for me to be upfront.

“I shouldn’t have taken that from you,” I offered. “Not when I have other things going on. Not when I need to put whatever would happen here on a back burner. It wasn’t fair, and I genuinely apologize.”

“It’s fine,” she said, the tone indicating anything but. I’d been with enough women to know that tone anywhere. “I get it. I assumed it would happen, anyway. I mean, that’s what they say, right? He’ll lose interest the moment he gets what he wants? Pretty sure that’s in every abstinence campaign I’ve ever heard.”

“Olivia—”

“No, no, it’s on me. I should have known better. I did know better,” she laughed, the sound raw and not at all from any humor in the situation. “I didn’t hold out like I should have. You can be my eternal fucking consolation prize.”

Ouch. I deserved that. “Can I explain, at least? So you don’t fucking hate me forever?”

Another quiet sip, and then another, and then the tink of a glass meeting some kind of hard surface. “Is it a good explanation, Damien? Or is it just to make you feel better?”

I… hadn’t even considered that. Was telling her even a good idea, or was it just for my gain, my own peace of mind?

No. It wasn’t for me. She was my wife for the time being, and if any of this came up, if any of it needed to be assessed in the annulment, she had a right to know in advance.

“I have a son,” I said, the words feeling wrong and otherworldly as they left my lips. She was the first person who wasn’t immediate family that I’d told — not counting Ethan, of course, because he brought it to me in the first place. It felt clunky in my mouth to try to speak about it. “He’s five.”

Silence.

“His name is Noah,” I offered.

Again, silence.

“He’s—”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before you married me?” The words felt almost like knives despite the confused tone of her voice.

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