Page 62 of Rebound
“Can we speak in private?” Roman asks.
“We are in private.” I look around us. We’re in a corner of the casino that is mostly empty. The nearest slots player is four chairs down and they have this glazed look in their eyes as they keep rolling, a cloud of smoke hanging over their head. I doubt they’re paying us any attention.
Roman looks pointedly at Jules, who stares back unblinking.
“Oh, you mean Jules. I mean, I guess? But I’m going to tell her everything anyway unless you’re about to tell me something incredibly personal,” I say.
Roman inhales deeply and the paper bag that he’s still holding crumbles in his hand. As if remembering its existence, he looks down in surprise and then holds it out for me. I take it and peek inside. It’s a donut. Why does he have to be so sweet?
I can’t make my brain and my heart align because my brain is telling me this is a mistake, and my heart is gleeful because we married our crush.
“I don’t think we should get an annulment right away,” Roman says. “We might be able to help each other.”
TWENTY-ONE
ROMAN
How is being married supposed to feel? I’m someone who never wanted this because I’ve seen firsthand what marriage does to a person and it’s not something I want. I also never, in my wildest fantasies, imagined I’ll be married to Lavinia.
I knew drinks roulette was a bad idea when she suggested it last night. Now, though? I think it’s the best idea she had last night. I look down at the band on my finger and thumb it gently. What did she look like when she put it on my hand? Shockingly, that’s the only part I regret about this.
The memories of last night are hazy like an old photograph.
It’s also the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Imagine marrying a member of your favorite boy band. Marrying Beyonce or Mariah Carey or Taylor Swift. For the rest of my life, I can proudly say Lavinia Callahan was my wife.
My wife.
And she’s staring at me now as if she thinks I’ve left my mind somewhere. Her mouth is slightly parted, and she blinks several times and then looks at Jules, who is equally as confused.
I still want to do this without Jules here because I realize what I’m asking for is insane and I’m not really comfortable having a third person here. I know Lavinia, I trust her.
“Are you still drunk?” Lavinia asks. She leans closer, sniffing me lightly as if expecting to smell alcohol.
“Let me explain.”
I have to do this quickly. I have thirty minutes before I have to meet the team and leave for the airport and I’m trying not to piss off coach by being late.
“Why you’re still drunk?” Lavinia asks. “It’s extremely inappropriate. You could get in serious trouble and lose your job.”
It’s honestly cute how much she cares about my job. Admittedly, this is a crazy idea, and I can understand why she thinks I might still be drunk.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Then this is a prank. You’re pranking me after the traumatic events of last night?”
She looks so offended that I almost laugh.
“I wouldn’t say the events were traumatic,” I say.
We got married. It hardly translates to trauma from my perspective. Then again, I’m not the one who got left at the altar. Although, isn’t getting married better than being left at the altar? She’s a bride who finally got her wish fulfilled.
I’m aware I sound like an absolute idiot. Lavinia’s a person, and not a ghost haunting the chapels of Las Vegas looking for the most unsuspecting man to marry.
“Roman,” Lavinia releases a loud breath. “If it’s going to take me five to ten business days to recover, it’s a traumatic event.”
“How long did it take you to recover from your almost wedding?”
“Considering I got drunk and married you, I’m guessing I’m still in the recovery phase.”
