Page 35 of Burn Bag

“That wasn’t really the point of getting married,” I grumbled, though she did have a point.

“Oh, you wanted like amarriagemarriage. I did not get that from Emily.”

I winced at the name. Just hearing it reminded me that right now I was supposed to be married to the woman of my dreams. Instead…instead I wasn’t sure what I was getting into.

When the food finally arrived, she dug in, helping herself to everything in front of her like she hadn’t eaten in a week. I’d never seen such a tiny woman scarf down so much food.

I took the opportunity to check her out as she ate and compared her to the woman I was supposed to marry. Green eyes would be the death of me. How did I keep ending up with women who had the same eye color? At least her hair wasn’t red. Long blonde locks were pinned up all over her head in a twirly pattern that I didn’t understand and would probably take forever for her to get out. With herhair up, it accentuated her long, slender neck and somewhat bony shoulders.

Not that it mattered. She was still gorgeous. Where Emily had a straight nose, Daphne had one of those short button noses that scrunched up when she laughed. And she was tall. I had wanted a woman much shorter. Not that she was too tall, but she didn’t fit the profile.

In fact, nothing about her fit the profile.

“What?” she asked as she shoved a forkful of lasagna in her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

Red sauce. It was…everywhere. I snatched my napkin and wiped her mouth as she leaned over her plate, trying not to splatter on her gorgeous dress.

“Is that Emily’s dress?”

She nodded, grabbing her own napkin and wiping her face again. She bobbed her head back and forth as she finished chewing, then swallowed and grabbed her champagne, guzzling the rest of the glass. “Why go to waste, you know? She wouldn’t be able to return it.”

I glanced down at the ring on her finger, watching as it sparkled in the dim light. I couldn’t believe I’d actually done it. I married a complete stranger. I needed another drink. Maybe ten.

I raised my hand and motioned over the waiter. “Another round.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And keep them coming!”

Daphne quirked her eyebrow at me as if she knew what I was doing. When the drinks arrived, she lifted her glass in a toast. “To what may come.”

I clinked my glass with hers, but the toast was more ominous than one of cheer, and as I took my first drink, I had a feeling this was going to be one decision I would highly regret.

The bright lightpierced my eyeballs like a sharp knife digging intomy retinas. Groaning, I rolled over and fell off the bed, landing with a thud on a very soft body.

“I’m sleeping,” the woman groaned, pushing her delicate hands against my chest.

What the fuck was going on? I peeled my eyes open and stared down at the mountain of white that laid sprawled out on the floor. I rolled off the mountain and stumbled to my feet, nearly falling into the open door.

I had the most fucked up dream that I had gotten married last night. Married to a woman I didn’t know. That couldn’t be. I was supposed to marry Emily. Did that happen? Based on the amount of alcohol running through my system, it couldn’t have happened. That had to have been a dream.

But then why was I wearing a tux?

“Holy shit,” I groaned, holding my head as a marching band rattled through my mind. “How much did I drink last night?”

“Can you stop shouting? God, my head hurts.”

“What?” I stumbled back over to the woman and peeled back the layers of white. Recognition slammed into me as I saw her beautiful face nestled in the silky fabric. “Holy shit. It wasn’t a dream.”

“What wasn’t a dream?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes, smearing her makeup. “Why is it so bright in here?”

I stumbled over to the window and pulled the blinds, making the room a tad less bright. “I need to invest in blackout shades.”

The woman on the floor groaned as she sat up, wincing as she tugged at her dress. “Crap, I can barely breathe. Help me up.”

I did as she asked, barely keeping myself upright as I hoisted her to her feet. She spun, trying to reach the back of her dress, but she looked like a dog chasing its tail.

“Wait, wait,” I muttered, grabbing her shoulders to stop her from spinning. My large fingers fumbled with the laces at the back of her dress, pulling at them, but only making it tighter. I heard an audible gasp as it pinched tight around her ribcage.

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