Page 158 of Beautiful Collide

I laughed, swatting at him like it was a joke. “Yeah, sure, Wilde. Great plan. Nothing could go wrong there.”

We wandered the streets.

Neon lights flashed.

Crowds of people partied to all hours of the night.

We giggled like teenagers.

And then we saw it—oh God—an Elvis impersonator. A white chapel.

Hudson looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

“Oh my God.”

I shake my head.

“No. No. No.”

As if I were watching a movie in my mind, I see myself clear as day . . . A very drunk version of me, swaying and smiling as I say the words . . .“I do.”

“Holy crap.” My hands fly to my face as the final piece of the night slams into me like a freight train.

I jump out of bed, my heart pounding harder than my head as I stumble toward the mirror.

Wow. I look awful.

My reflection matches the outcome of my memories—hair a tangled mess, mascara smudged on my cheeks in a way that screams bad decisions, and a faint red mark on my neck suggesting . . . Holy shit, are they hickeys? Who gets hickeys anymore?

Me.Apparently. I do.

I raise my hand to see if it’s not a hickey, but maybe just lipstick smudged when something glints in the morning sunlight.

Ground, please swallow me whole.

What the fuck is that?

My stomach flips as I glance down at my left hand. This has got to be a joke. The universe’s cruelest joke because what I see on my hand makes my heart stop beating.

A simple silver band on my ring finger.

“No, no, no, no,” I mutter, pacing the room as the memories play back in sharper detail now, each more horrifying than the last.

Hudson’s crooked grin as Elvis asks him if he takes me to be his lawfully wedded wife.

Hudson saying yes.

My eyes close. Maybe if I don’t open them, it won’t be true.

But that’s bullshit because I can now see it clear as day: Me saying yes.

I said yes.

What the hell was I thinking?

You weren’t thinking. Not at all. Not even a little bit.

In a haze of booze and fits of laughs, I sayI do.

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