Page 117 of Accidental Husband

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I throw off the covers.

They hit the person lying next to me.

Griff.

Fuck.

Memories of last night flit through my head. His suit hugging his shoulders. Hisfind someone to fuckdare. Hishell yes, I'm buying you a lap dancesmile.

A busty blonde in my lap.

My dress at my waist.

Mirrored walls reflecting us.

At the strip club. Then in a limo. A limo we stole from some drunk assholes.

And we—

Fuck.

That happened. The vibrator in his palm. That giant souvenir cup. The whole Jackson cheated confession.

The—

I must have dreamed some of this. There's no way I, no way we…

There's no way.

I table my thoughts as I move into the bathroom. Pee. Wash my hands.

My fingers hit something hard. Then something smooth and round and metal.

No.

I press my eyelids together.Please tell me that didn't happen. Please tell me I didn't fuck my best friend. Please tell me that isn't what I think it is.

But it is.

It's right there, on my left ring finger: a massive rock.

I married Griff last night.

I married my best friend.

I married the boy who pulled my pigtails in the fourth grade.

The only person in my life who really cares about me.

And now—

Shit. I was supposed to marry Jackson today. I was… I…

Fuck.

I wash my face a few times, but it does nothing to offer clarity. It does away with the stuck mascara, but it's completely useless on the clarity front.

It's impossible to think with my head pounding like this.

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