Page 12 of Accidentally Yours

Willa

My eyes fluttered open to the aggressive pounding in my head, and I stared at the sliver of sunlight cutting into the room through a gap in the hotel curtains. Groaning, my mouth dry as sandpaper, I slightly shifted, and that’s when I felt it—a warmth against my back and the unmistakable breathing of someone else. I froze, eyes wide open, trying to recall last night and the blur of neon lights that kept flashing in my head.

I slowly turned my head to find Damien lying there, both of us naked under the sheets.

“Oh my God!” I quickly sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest.

Damien stirred and slowly opened his eyes. “Where are we?” he moaned.

“We’re not in my room, so we must be in yours. We slept together?” I stared at him.

“It seems as though we did.” He rolled over and placed his arm over his head.

I sat there, clutching the sheet, trying to remember last night, but it was nothing but a black hole in my mind. I peered over at his nightstand and counted three torn condom wrappers. How could I not remember having sex with him?

I covered my mouth with my left hand and felt the chill of metal against my lips. Confused, I extended my hand and stared at the exquisite, sizable diamond ring with its matching band resting on my finger.

“What the fuck!” I shouted, looking over at the hand that rested on his head, noting the black band with gold trim around it.

“What? What’s wrong?” He rolled over and stared at me. I quickly hid my left hand.

“What exactly happened last night?” I asked.

“I have no idea. I last remember sitting at the bar, talking to this guy, and drinking. Luke was his name, I think. He bought us a round of drinks. After that, I don’t remember anything.”

“Well, you better start thinking really hard, mister!” I flashed my left hand in front of him.

“What the fuck!” He quickly sat up and looked at his left hand.

* * *

Damien

My heart raced out of my chest as I stared at the black wedding band with the gold trim. This was some kind of joke. It had to be.

“Don’t panic. This is a joke,” I said.

“A joke? Are you sure?” Her brows furrowed.

“Yes. I’m positive. I don’t even know you. I don’t do relationships, and I certainly don’t have any intention of ever getting married to anyone. It doesn’t matter how drunk I was. These rings are fake.”

“I don’t know,” she said, examining the beautiful diamond on her finger. “It looks real to me.”

“It’s not.” I climbed out of bed and used the bathroom.

After I was finished, I saw Willa standing in the middle of the bedroom, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

“Uh, Damien. I don’t think this is a joke.” She handed me the paper.

It was a marriage license with both of our names on it. Running my hand down my face, I sat on the edge of the bed and lowered my head.

“I can’t believe this. Someone is playing a joke on us, Willa. There’s no way in hell that I’d?—”

“Marry me?” she asked. “Why? Am I not marriage material?”

I raised my head and stared at her, furrowing my brows. We had just found out we possibly got married last night, and she was offended that I didn’t think she was marriage material.

“That has nothing to do with it. I don’t want marriage, not now, not ever. Fuck!” I stood up and gripped the sides of my head.

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