Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Cole
A faint buzzing roused me, but my eyelids were glued shut. And fuck, my back hurt like a mother.
The buzzing sound stopped, then started again. On repeat. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Fuck.
I picked up my head and forced my eyes open. Blinking, I took in my surroundings. Why the hell was I on the couch in my room? The white sofa was large, but not anywhere big enough to serve as a suitable bed for me. My knees hung over one side and my injured hip was screaming.
Groaning, I rolled off the couch. I hit the floor hard, pulling a pillow down with me. Pain shot through my hip as I flipped onto my good side. Breath held, I adjusted my position, desperate to ease the discomfort. Had I lost a fight last night? Why did everything hurt?
And what in the fucking hell was that noise?
Before I could figure it out, a terrified scream pierced the air.
I sat up straight, all my breath escaping from my lungs, and came face to face with Willa, who was standing before me in a strapless bra and panties, once again screaming at her phone.
“Oh my God,” she said, digging one hand into her messy hair and giving it a tug. “Jesus.”
She hopped from one foot to the other, making those incredible breasts bounce, and for an instant, all the concern that had swamped me disappeared.
But a sniffle caught my attention, and when I snapped out of my stupor and zeroed in on her face, my gut sank. She was crying.
“How could this happen?” Turning, she kicked at the ottoman. Then she collapsed onto the couch I’d just rolled off, and the waterworks began in earnest.
I jumped to my feet, wincing as pain tore through my hip.
I was wearing a pair of boxer briefs and my dress shirt from the night before, which was completely unbuttoned. Confused and thirsty, I hobbled over to her, desperate to make her feel better.
“Willa,” I said softly. “What’s going on? Can I help?”
She picked her head up and focused her puffy eyes on me. Her makeup was smeared beneath them, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Everyone knows,” she sobbed.
Frowning, I searched her face for a hint as to what she was talking about.
“That we got married.”
Married . That word had me dropping onto the cushion beside her. Shit. We’d done it. And she was devastated about it. While the details were hazy, I remember having a lot of fun yesterday.
“How could I be so irresponsible?” she sobbed. “I never lose control.” She was mostly talking to herself, but each word was like a knife to my chest.
This was all my fault. I was the one who had started it. Something in her had called to me, and I’d wanted to help her, to put a smile on her face. But as usual, instead of doing any good, I’d fucked everything up.
“What was in those tequila shots?” she hissed. “Peyote?”
I couldn’t respond. The shame of hurting yet another person was too much to manage in my current state.
My self-loathing was interrupted, thank fuck, by a knock at the door a moment later.
At the sound, she startled, her spine snapping straight. And with a squeak, she jumped up and ran to the bathroom.
With a harsh breath out, I went to the door.
Heart in my throat, I pulled it open, and instantly, I was flooded with relief. “Good morning, sir,” the bellhop said, beaming. “And congratulations.”
He wheeled in a silver cart covered with an enormous floral arrangement and every type of fancy breakfast food known to man.
As he passed, I snagged the card stuck in the bouquet and tore open the envelope.
To the newlyweds, it was an honor to witness your love. Congrats on a beautiful future together. Your friends, Bob and Phyllis .
As I reread the words scrawled on the crisp white paper, memories came flooding back at high speed.
It took a moment to realize the bellhop was standing by the open door. Shit. I scooped my pants up off the floor, yanked out my wallet, and tipped the man.
When he was gone, Willa poked her head out of the bathroom.
She had on a fluffy robe. It was really cute.
I handed her the card, and as she silently read it, her eyes widened, as if the events were snapping back into place for her too. “They are so lovely,” she said, wiping away a tear. “But what the eff did we do?”
With a sigh, I cataloged my memories.
First, we crashed the pool party with the DJ, and then I convinced her to take a helicopter tour over the Hoover Dam. It was expensive, but so worth it.
What came next was hazy, but I closed my eyes and willed images to the surface.
Ah. The gondola ride through the canals at the Venetian.
She dared me to zipline over the strip.
I dared her to play drag queen bingo.
We had dinner after that. She went up to change first, and then she came down into the lobby wearing that dress.
It was green, and it dipped and clung and draped in the most tantalizing ways. The instant I saw her, I was lost.
We met Bob and Phyllis and chatted the night away, all while hitting the tequila. That was when all my honorable intentions went out the window.
Swallowing thickly, I studied her drawn face. “We got married, Doc.”
“I know we did,” she said, still studying the note, frowning. “I wasn’t blacked out, just out of my effing gourd.”
With a sigh, she stood, picked up the silver coffee carafe, and attempted to pour herself a cup. As she tipped the carafe, she spilled it on the white linen tablecloth, leaving a good-sized stain.
“Shoot.”
“Let’s sober up,” I suggested. “Then we can go get it annulled. People get stupidly married in Vegas all the time. I’m sure it’s easy.”
“You’re missing the point,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ll get it annulled, of course. The problem is that everyone already knows.”
“Who?” I popped a piece of croissant into my mouth and had to bite back a moan. Damn, that was good.
Her lower lip wobbled as she settled beside me again. “The town.”
“Impossible.”
She shook her head and pulled her phone from the pocket of her robe. When she unlocked the screen and slid a thumb down it, there were dozens of text messages.
She opened one from Bernice, who owned the diner, and then from her friend Becca, who owned the salon. Both included a blurry photo. The image was of us. I was carrying her through the hotel lobby. She was still in that gorgeous green dress, but she was wearing a white veil.
A buzz like the ones I’d been dreaming about vibrated through me then. I hopped up and dug under the couch cushion, finding my phone lodged there, along with my key card, just as the device buzzed again.
When I caught sight of the screen, my chest tightened. Dozens of texts and missed calls. And as I scrolled through them, bile rose in my throat.
“Apparently, Gail Thomas saw us in the lobby and took that photo.”
My stomach plummeted. Fucking Aunt Gail.
She was Debbie Hebert’s overprotective sister and the town gossip. She’d come to Vegas with Debbie, and she never resisted the urge to glare at me.
She was loyal to a fault when it came to her sister and her nephews. Thus, she despised me. As if it had been my fault my asshole of a father cheated on his wife with my mother and broke her sister’s heart. She taught Sunday school, delivered meals for the food bank, and had worked at the bank for years. But behind her pious fa?ade, she was pure evil.
Shit. If Aunt Gail knew, then she’d surely already made a scandal out of it.
Willa curled up against the armrest, attention locked on her phone and tears streaming down her face again.
Sniffling, she looked up at me. “My parents,” she said softly. “What am I going to tell them? They will be ashamed of me.”
My heart sank. They were the kind of loving, supportive parents any kid would be fortunate to have, and it was a well-known fact in town that they were proud of their daughter and all her accomplishments. Of course they’d be horrified by all of this.
Eyes closed, I cursed myself. Fuck. I had to fix this. I’d been on a downward spiral for months. I couldn’t drag Willa down with me. Not bothering to question where this protective instinct came from, I put an arm around her and pulled her close.
“Blame me,” I said. “I got you drunk and took advantage of you.”
Thankfully, I hadn’t taken advantage of her in that way. I’d woken up on the couch, and one of the not so hazy memories lodged in my brain was of heading straight for the couch to pass out when we finally got back here. There had been plenty of kissing—that part I remembered clearly—but by some miracle, we hadn’t gone further.
“No. I was an active and willing participant. And we had so much fun. Drinking, drag queen bingo, and after we won all that money at craps. I got carried away.” The smallest smile tipped her lips as she looked up at me.
My breath hitched. Even depressed and hungover, she was knock-you-on-your-ass beautiful. All green eyes and full lips and long lashes. How had I been blind to this for so long?
“I blame Bob and Phyllis,” I said, feigning indignation. “They’re a terrible influence. They 100 percent pressured us into substance abuse and an ill-conceived marriage.”
The giggle that escaped her filled me with warmth. Damn, it felt good to cheer her up.
“Yes,” she said, biting back a smile. “Those wild septuagenarians led us astray. That defense will clearly hold up in the Lovewell court of public opinion.”
I squeezed her a little tighter. “You’re a doctor, not a lawyer.”
The lightness in her expression evaporated, and she put her head back in her hands. “Don’t remind me. I’m the town doctor. I’m supposed to be reasonable and trustworthy. It’s hard enough already, having grown up there. People don’t take me seriously or actually listen to my medical advice. They’d rather treat me like the child they knew decades ago.”
My phone buzzed in my hand for what had to be the fiftieth time since I’d found it. Curiosity took over, and I checked the notifications. The texts were mainly from acquaintances and varied between congratulations and are you okay?
“I know this seems bad,” I said slowly, tapping the button on the side to make the screen go dark, “but we’ll fix it. We’ll get an annulment, and in time, they’ll all forget. It won’t take long for you to go back to being the dependable doctor.”
“If it were only that easy,” she said, fixing her glassy eyes on me. “You’re a man. The world forgives your mistakes and boneheaded decisions. Women in my position are held to a higher standard.”
Though I had no right to argue with her on that point, she needed to see that everyone made mistakes.
Before I could come up with a reasonable response, she was actively crying again. “My d-dad,” she stuttered. “His health is so fragile, and God, he will be so disappointed. How could I make such a terrible decision? I’m a selfish bitch.”
I hated seeing Willa cry, but the way she spoke so harshly about herself made the protective instincts inside me flare.
“We had fun and got carried away,” I said, keeping my tone soft. “It’s not a good look. I get that. But it’s not a tragedy—”
She raised her head, her eyes sharp and her face fixed in a glower. “Maybe for you. Everyone expects the worst out of you.”
Shit.
Her words hit me like an arrow to the heart.
I’d thought we’d bonded. I thought she could see past the reputation that had been haunting me. I’d opened up and shared things I’d only ever told my therapist. I’d hoped that maybe she thought I was more than an irresponsible fuck-up.
But she was just another person for whom I’d never be good enough.