Page 9 of The Quirky Vet

"Let me have a think…"

I dig through what I can recall.

Whisking Erin away into a private dining room as Muir and Maisey went into theirs, exchanging a look with him that conveyedwe got thisplusthis will blow up on TikTok.

Sensing something was off as soon as I knelt down and it was obvious I was about to propose—Erin didn't light up. She just stared at me with a blank expression on her face.

Hearing her softly mumbled words: "No. I'm sorry. You're not— This isn't. No."

Walking out of the private dining room like a zombie to be met with an equally blindsided Muir, watching as our former girlfriends, never-to-be fiancées, took off arm in arm, almost as if they'd coordinated their responses, which is impossible since we'd kept my awesome surprise tightly under wraps.

Stumbling into a rooftop bar that was way too hip for us then moving on to a jazz bar cocktail lounge that was way too quiet for us, where a very lovely security guard politely asked us to fuck off.

Then there was a bar with a bunch of blonde chicks and having a boogie with some cool gay dudes.

Then we ended up at the beach. I only remember that because my feet and calves were covered in patches of dried sand when I showered this morning.

"How about after the beach?" I suggest.

"Hmm."

"Hmm,what?"

"That's where shit starts to go a bit wonky for me."

"Same here." I pick up the ring. "Actually, that's not entirely true. Do you remember the pop-up Vegas chapel?"

"The what?"

"It was on the side of the footpath. A white circus-like tent. I wanted to go inside on the way to the beach."

"Sort of."

"I managed to convince you to go inside on the wayfromthe beach."

"O-kay. Can you remember what happened next? And what the fuck is a pop-up Vegas chapel anyway?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Hold off on the advanced questioning there, mister." I furrow my brow in concentration, but only draw blanks. "I can't be sure, but putting two and two together…" My eyes drift from the ring to Muir's face a few times. "Maybe we're married?"

He nods slowly. "And the cock rings?"

I shrug. "Dunno. But I had a dream last night where you told me you wanted to see a live sex show."

Some colour returns to Muir's face. "Uh, that wasn't a dream. I said that at karaoke with the boys a few months back."

"Oh, okay." My head starts throbbing again. Untangling my dreams from reality is like trying to herd cats—nearly impossible and kind of pointless. I bounce the ring up and down against my open palm a few times. "So maybe the part where we went into a sex store and bought matching cock rings isn't a dream either?"

Muir shifts in his seat, more colour rising on his cheeks, and clears his throat. "I think I remember you saying something about us getting matching cock rings and then me saying something like they can't be matching because I'd need a larger size."

"What did I say to that?"

He smirks. "Nothing. 'Cause you know it's true."

"Fuck off." I fling what's left of my hash brown at him, but hemanages to dodge it. "Do you actually think we are married? Like, legit, legally actually technically married?"

"I have no idea. Maybe we can go back to the chapel and see if they've got any record, or footage, of us?"

"That's a good idea."

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