Page 32 of Ride By Your Side

Careful not to make any noise, I tiptoe toward my dress. But my mission is thwarted when I notice a card, along with some paperwork sitting on the small entry table.

I pick up the card first.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bennett,

Congratulations on your beautiful beginning! May your journey together be filled with love, laughter, and endless adventures. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness and cherished memories. Thank you for allowing us to be part of this special moment. Here’s to your new forever!”

Setting the card back down, my gaze shifts to what appears to be a picture from the happy event. I lift it open and inspect. Right there is the proof in the flesh as Miles and I stand directlynext to each other. If one didn’t know better, they’d probably assume we were a happy, completely in-love couple, because those two certainly look it. My face is practically splitting with a proud, joyous grin, one arm raised high as I hold a bouquet of fake white roses. Miles is holding me close, one arm wrapped around my waist as he leans in to kiss my cheek.

I want to smile at the memory, and I wish I could enjoy this moment for the craziness that it is. Honestly, a Vegas-wedding is very on brand for me. But considering I just ran away from one wedding, only to end up married to my best friend’s brother, it’s not exactly a great look—even for me. This is definitely a new low, especially as I dragged Miles Bennett into this, of all people.

God, this man is truly going to hate me forever. Damn that stupid and delicious slushy! I’m positive it was the catalyst and the first of many bad decisions made last night.

Setting the picture down, I reach for the last paper, and likely the final piece of the puzzle. If I wasn’t sure that last night was nothing more than a fever dream and a figment of my imagination, there’s no denying it now. In my hands is a marriage certificate with both our names there in black ink. And yep, while maybe not as pretty as usual, that is certainly my signature. Miles and I truly did get married last night, and this is very, very real.

Looking back toward the bed, Miles is one lucky, oblivious bastard—at least for now—as he continues to sleep. This just isn’t fair, since even now, he looks so fucking beautiful as a strand of hair falls over his closed eyes. I should let him sleep this off. Hell, he probably deserves to after the mess I’ve gotten us into, but there really is no running away from this.

Closing my eyes, I take one final deep breath and make my way toward him. As much as I want to shield him from the truth, he deserves to know what happened. More importantly, we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this.

20

Miles

“Miles,youneedtowake up,” a voice calls to me, but I’m nowhere near ready to, nor do I want to open my eyes. There’s already an unmistakable throb in my head, and a part of me already knows I’m not ready to face the repercussions of a long night of drinking and partying.

Instead, I keep my eyes closed and press my face into the soft comfort of my pillow, doing my best to block it all out. I should probably be worried—there’s someone in my room after all. And not just anyone… Veronica Prescott, of all people. But right now, I’m desperate to delay the inevitable. The longer I sleep, the longer I can pretend nothing crazy happened last night.

If anything, the only major thought running through my head is the stark reminder of why I don’t drink in the first place. Sure, I’ll occasionally have a beer or two when I’m out with the guys from work, or at a bar, but that’s about it. I refuse to becomemy father, and I’m pissed at myself for getting so out of control, because that’s Bill Bennett's behavior right there, not mine.

I had only allowed myself to indulge to the point of blacking out once before, and that was all the way back in high school. That single night was enough to make me swear it would never happen again—and until last night, I had kept that promise.

Then again, I’ve also found myself saying yes to just about anything Veronica suggests. Hopefully, this will be the final straw that reminds me why I was never a fan of hers in the first place.

“Miles, I’m serious,” she says, her voice demanding my attention as it rises in pitch. I try to ignore her, but she grabs my shoulder and pulls me to face her.

“Mmmm.” I groan, still not daring to open my eyes.

“Miles. I swear to God, if you don’t wake up,” she threatens, her voice edged with panic. As much as I want to hide away, if only a few more minutes, I finally let my eyes peek open.

I suppose one thing to be thankful for is the fact that she looks just about as terrible as I feel. I may be a lightweight, but at least I’m not the only one affected by our rowdy night of recklessness. “You know, if you’re really this insistent on waking me up, the least you could have done is have some water and pills on deck.”

Okay, so obviously it’s not her job, nor would I actually expect it, but given the way my brain seems to be slamming against my skull, it certainly would’ve been nice.

“You mean you didn’t want to wake up to this instead?” she asks, her tone sarcastic as she holds up a sheet of paper in one hand and a picture in the other.

My vision is too blurry to make out what she’s holding as I squint my eyes. “What is it?” I ask, still struggling to process what she’s talking about or trying to show me.

“Our wedding license, babe. Apparently, I’m Mrs. Veronica Bennett. Don’t you remember?” she asks, a fake sweetness in her tone as her words drip with sarcasm.

If I were a fully functioning adult at this moment, I probably would’ve shot upright and demanded answers, but my brain seems to be processing things at the speed of a snail, so I shake my head instead. “No, seriously. What is it?” I ask, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position, my achy muscles protesting with each movement.

“I’m serious, Miles. We got married last night. Even I wouldn’t joke about this,” she says, her voive grave as I register the frown on her face.

“No, we didn’t,” I scoff, snatching what has to be a fake certificate from her hand. There’s no way I’d ever let myself do something that stupid. Sure, I was drunk, but even in that state, I’d hope I had enough sense not to make such a life-altering decision—I couldn’t have been that dumb.

“Unfortunately, we did,” she sighs.

“But this can’t be real. This is just a stupid Vegas gimmick, right? Just some dumb souvenir we picked up to tease Blair with,” I suggest. There is just no way in hell I’d ever be reckless enough to let myself get married in Vegas, especially not to Veronica Prescott.

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