Page 80 of Bully

“Okay.” I hit the button to open the blinds, letting the midday sun into the space and grimaced when it made my headache intensify. “Headache meds, water, and food. In that order. Then we can talk about who, if not me, put that tiny rock on your finger.”

She grimaced at me again, lifting her hand to inspect the pathetic ring on her finger, but stayed silent.

It wasn’t necessarily tiny, but it wasn’t what I would have picked out for her if I had intended to get married.

The idea of being married to the woman should have alarmed me, but it didn’t. Realistically thinking, she was probably the only woman I’d ever feel even slightly comfortable tying myself to legally, but still.

I wasn’t husband material.

Besides, were Vegas marriages even legally binding?

Sloane hesitantly took a bite of her avocado toast across the table from me, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. Was she afraid of what I’d see in them if she did? People weaved in and out around us on the patio of the hotel restaurant as we tried to eat food that would absorb the alcohol without making us throw it all back up.

An hour ago, we had woken up in hangover bliss. Somehow my ass was on the floor, and she was naked in bed and beckoning, and I had easily and happily accepted her call.

And then everything went to shit because of that small golden band on her finger.

Now, she was silently creating God only knows what scenarios in her head, more than likely blaming me for them, and avoiding me like the plague.

I took her silent treatment and tried to focus on what I remembered. Bits and pieces of fuzzy memories were all I had after dinner, and they all seemed too farfetched to be believable.

What if the whole thing was literally an alcohol induced bad dream, and none of it had actually happened?

What if she wasn’t my bride?

What if she wasn’t my anything?

Why did that scare me more than the alternative?

I fought through the haze, trying to remember what we did after dinner or if we went anywhere else beside our hotel.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the newlywed couple out in the sunlight for the first time!” The crackly old voice of the woman who haunted my dreams assaulted us.

Sloane’s eyes rounded to the size of oranges as she wiped her mouth as the feral post office lady, Dolly, sidled up to our table.

As if she was the catalyst for unlocking all of my blacked-out memories, the bits and pieces of what happened last night fell into place, filling the gaps in vivid, colorful images.

Jesus fuck, Sloane and I got married.

“What?” Dolly paused, when neither of us acknowledged her. “Hungover, aren’t you?”

“We—” Sloane cringed and then held her head in her hands. “Oh god.”

“We blacked out.” I admitted, leaning back in my chair and finally looking over at the scary woman. “But you just confirmed what we were pretty sure we already knew.”

Dolly chuckled and patted my arm, making me cringe slightly. “Oh, don’t fret, I’m sure with a little sunshine and time, you’ll see what we all saw last night.”

“Which was what, exactly?” Sloane asked, breaking her self-imposed vow of silence.

Did I care what the predatory old lady thought about us, no.

“You two are soul mates.” Dolly replied, catching me off guard. I chanced a glance at Sloane and she peeked across the table at me before turning away again. “Look, I’ve been around long enough to recognize the connection of two souls in that deep way that defies any other logic or reason. It doesn’t happen often, surely you can agree with that. But with you two, there’s something that needs no words or titles to make sense. So, what if you two drunkenly put a title to it in Vegas?” She put her hands on her hips and glared at me, “I’m sure you’ve done far worse in your life.” I looked away. “Sit on it. See how it feels for a few days and then go from there.” Dolly finished with a wink, “Besides, they say the newlywed phase is the best time of your life.”

“Is that how you’re feeling this morning?” Sloane asked, chancing a small smile as she looked at Dolly. “You were drunker than us last night and you look like you’re standing in a photo shoot, all glam and happy as a newlywed yourself.”

Dolly chuckled and shrugged, “My liver is so pickled at this point in my life I hardly ever get a hangover. Besides, I’ve waited a hell of a long time to find a good man willing to put up with my floosy self. I’m not wasting a second of it. And you shouldn’t either, you two. Life passes in the blink of an eye when you’ve got a good thing, and it drags out at a snail’s pace when you’re lonely. Don’t waste the opportunity you’ve given yourself.”

With that, the old lady walked away, talking about finding Raymond at the slots and making him take her to see Celine Dion in concert.

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