Page 11 of Marriage Mistake (Beautiful Mistakes 1)

How disappointing.

It was hard not to feel my mood crash and the tiniest bit of a hangover start to seep in. What was that my trainer was always telling me? Of yeah, I needed to look on the positive side of things. Well, I was going to try to be positive that I’d had a one-night stand with the girl of my dreams. How many people could say that?

I let out a dry, dry chuckle and rubbed my face. As reality set it, I began to think that maybe a shower wasn’t that bad of an idea. But then I noticed something felt off about the motion and I looked down at my hand.

I was wearing a ring.

Why was I wearing a ring?!

I stared at my thick fingers, utterly shocked at the thick, golden band that was sitting right there. That was a wedding ring if I ever saw one. But the issue was, I’d never seen it before.

…how drunk had we gotten the previous night exactly?

Suddenly I was faced with a dilemma I never thought I would. It wasn’t that I was against the institution of marriage. It was just that I definitely wasn’t at the point in my life where getting married was that much of a priority for me. I had my career going and building, and I travelled all the time. Sure, I wouldn’t mind a relationship, but a relationship and marriage were two entirely different boats.

My phone! I needed my phone.

I patted my thighs where my pockets would normally be before remembering I was naked. Oh, right. Perhaps I was still a little bit left-over tipsy from the previous night.

Alright, so I just needed to find my pockets. Which would be in my pants. Which were… ah, on the floor about as far away from the bed as they could get. I guess I had disrobed myself a little overenthusiastically.

Oh well, Amber hadn’t seemed to mind.

Grabbing the errant article of clothing, I yanked my phone up only to stare at my screen. I didn’t have Amber’s number. I used to, way, way back in the day, but then she had switched networks and I’d changed my own number when my star started to rise, so things got lost in the shuffle. And I’d deleted most of my social media anyways, since it was more trouble than it was worth, so we weren’t connected that way either.

I stared at the screen way longer than I should have, trying to think of a way that kept whatever happened between us, but I kept coming up empty. And for some reason, it felt like there was a timer above my head, slowly ticking down to something awful. I needed to get in touch with Amber so we could figure it all out.

Dreading everything, I went through my contacts and called up Michelle.

“Hey Big Bro, how ya feeling?”

Her tone struck something in me instantly and I felt my suspicions flare. “Why are you asking like that?”

“No reason. Just maybe I kinda saw you leave the wedding arm in arm with a certain stunt woman you’ve been crazy for since we were kids.”

“What, you saw that?”

“Bro, you’re almost six and a half feet tall, she’s almost six feet and you both walk around like gladiators. You kinda stick out.”

Oh. I supposed that made sense.

“Right. Well, uh, could you give me her number?”

There was a pause and I could feel her brain calculating. “…why do you need her number? Did she not give it to you?”

“We were, uh… preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied? How?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But he does call the best friend later to get a number?”

I sighed. I loved Missy but she wasn’t going to let this go. I knew that much. “Look, we spent some time together, and it was nice and everything, but she’s left her keys here and I was thinking she might need them. And if that turns into an excuse to see her again, then it’s an excuse to see her again. But please, could you give me her number?”

“Aw, alright. When you put it like that? I’ll text it to you. And good on you, Big Bro. I always hoped the two of you would end up together.”

“We’re not together,” I said with considerable effort. Geez, my little sister knew exactly what not to say but just said it anyways. “We just hung out a bit.”

“Hung out?”

“Missy.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Love you too, bro. Tell me how it works out!”

I looked at my ring and heaved another sigh. “I’m sure it won’t be that much of a story.”

“Aw, you’re not fun.”

She hung up and just a beat later my phone lit up with her text. I opened it, but then hesitated once more.

Should I call?

Should I text?

How did I communicate that I was concerned that maybe we somehow had gotten married while we were both drunk off our asses?

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