2. Two
Two
Sam
The rest of the morning passes in a blur. We navigate the labyrinth of Vegas bureaucracy, filling out forms and answering questions from a bored clerk who barely glances up at us.
That is, until she says, “You both need to sign here that the marriage was never consummated.”
I glance over at Emily, whose pen hovers in mid-air. She’s frozen in place, meeting my eyes with an uneasy glance.
I shrug with nonchalance, cocking an eyebrow at her as if daring Emily to speak first. It seems to infuriate her.
She swallows, clearing her throat nervously. “Um... well.”
The clerk finally looks up, her previous boredom replaced by a skeptical expression. “It’s perjury to lie on official court documents,” she states matter of factly as if she’s repeated it a thousand times before.
Emily glares at my relaxed posture. I know she thinks I’m too calm for someone in this situation, but I refuse to react.
“Perjury or stay married,” I say with another who-gives-a shit shrug. “Your choice.”
“Dammit!” The word bursts from her, and she quickly lowers her voice, forcing a tight smile at the clerk. “Can we... uh, think about it?”
The clerk gives us a pointed look, then looks beyond us and waves the next couple forward. “Next.”
By the time we leave the courthouse, the sun is already high in the sky, baking the pavement beneath our feet.
“Well,” I ask, stuffing my hands into my pockets. “What now?”
“I don’t know,” Emily replies flatly, throwing me a disgruntled look—the weight of the unsigned document weighing heavy on her mind. I hide the fact that I’m feeling a jumble of emotions that I can’t quite untangle.
My eyes linger on Emily for a moment longer, my expression neutral.
“You okay?” I ask gruffly.
She nods, even though her expression remains uncertain. I can’t tell how she feels.
Hell, I can’t even decipher what I feel—disappointed or relieved. Either way, I’m handling it way better than she is.
After a moment, I flash her a crooked grin. “Take your time, Cupcake. No need to look so glum.” I quip, deliberately wanting a reaction.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Please don’t call me that again.”
“I can’t help it,” I say, my grin widening. “Would you rather I call you wife?”
Emily shudders. “I think I prefer Cupcake to… the other.” She turns to me, inhaling deeply. “We don’t tell anyone about this. Understood? This can’t get leaked.”
“Whatever you say.” I grin as I turn to walk back to the hotel, my casual stride seeming only to aggravate her further as she trails behind me.
I feel her eyes bore a hole in my back, and my smile broadens. My unbothered attitude is like nails on a chalkboard, judging by the tense look of her shoulders. Yet beneath her frustration, I wonder if she’s feeling the same emotions as me—doubt, yet it’s mingled with a strange type of exhilaration. Like maybe now that we’ve slept together, we can put all of our earlier sexual tension and animosity behind us and start fresh.
At the corner, I wait for her to catch up. The rest of the walk back to the hotel is quiet, except for a couple of pedestrians and the faint hum of traffic. Emily keeps a good two feet of distance between us, her arms tight across her chest. She’s pissed. I get it. But I can’t help the lopsided grin pulling at the corners of my mouth.
Husband and wife. Who would believe it?
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s chewing her lip, her brows knit together in a deep frown. She’s beautiful when she’s mad. Not that I’d ever tell her that.
“Stop staring,” she orders, catching me in the act.
Shaking my head as I raise my hands, I state, “Just admiring the scenery, Cupca–.”
Her eyes narrow into a scowl. “Do you ever take anything seriously, Sam?”
“Oh, I’m serious, all right.” I stop walking, turning to face her. “Do you think I’m thrilled about this? Waking up married to someone who can’t stand me? A bride who can’t even remember the wedding?”
Emily’s mouth opens, then shuts, like she’s trying to think of a witty comeback but comes up empty. That’s rare for her. Usually, she’s quick on her feet, ready to cut me down to size with a sharp word or two.
“This isn’t how I imagined the first day of my marriage would go, either.” She exhales slowly, shaking her head. “Attempting to get an annulment,” she mumbles resentfully.
The sting in her voice pricks at something in me. I should let it go, let her blame me for the whole thing, but I can’t resist rubbing it in. “Well, I wasn’t exactly holding a gun to your head last night, was I?”
Her eyes flash, and for a second, I think she’s going to slap me. “How can you think this is funny?”
“I don’t think it’s funny. Just damn ironic,” I say, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. “You’ve hated me for years, but now we’re kinda stuck with each other.”
Her face flushes, and she looks away, her jaw tight. That’s when it hits me—she’s not just angry. She’s flustered–shaken.
I lean against a lamppost, letting the silence stretch between us. Emily’s not one to stay quiet for long—and sure enough, she breaks first.
“Do you remember last night?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
“Most of it.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes locking on mine. “Then maybe you can explain how we ended up at a wedding chapel.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “It started as an argument.”
She arches a brow. “And that led to marriage vows?”
“Not exactly.”
Emily crosses her arms again. I can feel the urgency of her stare as she waits for my explanation.
“We were at the afterparty,” I start, piecing the night together in my head. “You were mad about something—hell, you’re always mad at me—but this time, you let loose. Told me exactly what you thought of me.”
Her cheeks redden, and she looks away. “Go on.”
“I called you uptight, boring, and predictable, and you told me I was an egotistical man-child who wouldn’t know what to do with a real woman.”
She flinches at my words, but I keep going. “And then... you kissed me.”
Emily’s gaze snaps back to mine, her eyes wide with disbelief. “ I kissed you ?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, my voice smug. Leaning toward her, almost like I’m admitting a secret. “And I liked it so much that I kissed you back.”
She gives me a doubtful look, like she can’t tell if I’m joking. “And then what?”
“We danced. That part was kind of nice. You wrapped your arms around my neck, and we swayed to the music. You even laid your head on my shoulder.” Glancing over at her, I tease, “You were actually pleasant.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “Then… you dared me.”
Her brows knit together in confusion. “I dared you to do what?”
“To prove that I could handle you. That I wasn’t all talk and no action.”
Her mouth falls open, and for a second, I think she’s going to laugh. But then her expression hardens. “And you thought marrying me was the best way to prove it?”
“No, but let’s just say things escalated from there. It got a little hot and heavy.” I wiggle my brows at her. She frowns. “You enjoyed it,” I assure her with a boastful smirk.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure.”
“We both enjoyed it–then… we talked about the past, about uh… different things… and Elvis,” I state, choosing my words carefully. Turning to give her a searching look. “Emily, you don’t remember any of this?”
“No.” Her voice squeaks as it rises. “Get to the part where you proposed.”
“I proposed,” I state, with a shrug, “but the bubble gum rings were your idea. You said yes. And we ended up at a wedding chapel. Vegas is full of them.”
“And you went through with it? You actually married me?” She stammers.
“I didn’t hear you complaining when you said, “I do.’”
Emily groans, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this.”
“It happened,” I say, pulling the crumpled marriage certificate from my pocket. “Paperwork doesn’t lie.”
She snatches it from my hand, scanning the document like it’s a forgery.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she mutters, mostly to herself.
I shrug again. “Makes sense to me.”
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I hesitate, the words caught in my throat. How am I supposed to explain that a part of me doesn’t think this was a mistake?
But instead, I deflect. “It means we were drunk and stupid. Happens all the time in Vegas, right?”
Her shoulders relax slightly, but her eyes are still wary. “I guess.”
Emily doesn’t say another word as we continue walking, but her silence feels loaded, like a storm about to break. I let her simmer for a while, even though the tension builds inside me.
The truth is, I remember more of last night than I’ve let on. The way her cheeks flushed when I called her out, her fiery retorts, and how that fire ignited a passion in both of us when we kissed. It wasn’t just some drunken mistake. It felt like years of frustration boiling over, years of pretending we couldn’t stand each other when, deep down, the opposite was true. The words we said to each other, what we shared…
She dared me, yes—but there was more to it than that.
And now, here we are, Mr. and Mrs.
I glance over at her again and catch her studying me. She quickly looks away, her jaw tightening.
“Why are you smiling?” she asks, her voice sharp.
“Just thinking,” I say casually.
“About how to get out of this mess?”
“No,” I reply truthfully. “About how we got here in the first place.”
“You mean how we ended up married and in bed together?” She huffs out a laugh, bitter and short. “Bad decisions.”
“You say that now,” I shoot back, “But you certainly weren’t protesting at the time–multiple times.”
Her steps falter, just for a second, and I know I’ve scored a point.
“Last night didn’t mean anything,” she says firmly.
But the way her voice shakes and her cheeks flush tells me she’s lying.
We reach the hotel, and the constant dinging of slot machines fills the air. Emily heads straight for the elevator, not waiting to see if I follow. I do, of course. I’m not about to let her storm off without finishing this conversation.
The elevator doors close, trapping us in the confined space. Her perfume teases my senses—vanilla and something floral that brings back vivid flashbacks of burying my face in her neck last night.
She finally turns to me. “What do we do now?”
Her voice is quiet, almost vulnerable, and it startles me. Emily Wild doesn’t do vulnerable.
“We figure it out,” I say, leaning against the wall. “One step at a time.”
She sharply exhales like she doesn’t believe me. “This doesn’t change anything, you know. I still can’t stand you.”
I chuckle. “And yet, here we are. Married. Till death do us part.”
Her glare could cut glass, but there’s a flicker of something else in her eyes. Something I can’t quite name. It makes me wonder what else is going through her mind. Like maybe, how good it felt to wake up next to each other.
“Over my dead body,” she finally mutters under her breath. “For now, I just want to pretend it didn’t happen. Alright?”
Giving her a considering look, I hesitate for a moment but then give an abrupt nod. “Fine. Just let me know once you’ve got it all figured out.”
She frowns up at me, biting her lip. “Sam, my brother, and the band–they can’t know. Nobody can know.”
Without waiting for me to reply, she stubbornly crosses her arms. The elevator doors swish open, and a man, unsteady on his feet, steps in. As the elevator ascends, he stumbles, falling into us and pushing Emily into my side.
I catch her instinctively, my hands finding her waist. She’s soft and warm against me, fitting perfectly in my arms just like she did hours ago. The contact sends electricity through my body, and memories flood back—how she gasped when I touched her, and later her nails raking down my back as she called out my name—
Emily jerks away like I’ve burned her, but not before I feel the slight tremor that runs through her body. Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is uneven, and I know she’s remembering, too.
The elevator dings, and she bolts, leaving me alone with the drunk and a thousand memories of how right it felt to hold her. Dammit. One touch shouldn’t affect me this much, but everything about Emily Wild gets under my skin.