49. Wren
49
WREN
Waking up, I crack my eyes open but I quickly shut them again; the brightness is blinding. My mouth tastes like the bottom of a dirty ashtray, well, I presume this is what a dirty ashtray tastes like. There’s also a throbbing in both my head and between my legs, clearly I had a good time last night—if only I could remember the fun.
Lying here, I focus on my breathing but it’s hard because my stomach is doing somersaults. The jitters are not from my hangover, these are nervous and excited butterflies. Why am I excited and nervous while I’m hungover?
The events of last night are fuzzy. I remember dinner and then Simon and sitting in the lobby bar having a drink and then nothing. Clearly, I drank waaaaaaay too much and had a little fun between the sheets because as I stretch my arms above my head, my body hurts in that you had lots of energetic sex kind of way.
Opening my eyes again, I squint and look around. I’m in a hotel room but I have no clue how I got here. It’s also a different hotel room from the one we shared with Bradford and Fern but it’s just as stunning, waaaaay above my pay grade. Glancing around, I take in the decadence of the room and that confusion from before ramps up once again.
Where’s Stefan?
Shaking my head, I close my eyes and will myself to remember, but I’ve got nothing.
In frustration, I close my eyes and sigh. Lifting my hand, I rub my forehead and temple to try and ease the jackhammering in my brain, then I freeze.
My eyes fly open and when I pull my hand away from my face, my gaze focuses on my ring finger. I stare with laser focus at the metal band sitting on my left hand’s fourth finger. “That wasn’t there yesterday,” I mumble. I try and remember but I got nothing. I don’t remember anything from last night. “What the fuck did you do, Wren?”
Blinking rapidly, I stare at the glittering gold band and accompanying diamond ring. And holy diamond, Batman. This thing must be at least two carats and even though it’s on the larger side, it’s stunning, fucking stunning.
Lifting myself up, the sheet falls and the cool air of the air-conditioning pebbles my nipples and I shiver. Quickly I pull the sheet back up and climb out of the most comfiest bed I have ever slept in. Padding over to the windows, I pull the curtain open. My eyes widen, again, when I see the Vegas Strip before me. “I’m still in Vegas,” I mumble, stating the freakin’ obvious. The view this morning is different, the Bellagio fountains are now across the road and I’m staring at the Bellagio Hotel behind the fountain. “Why am I in a different hotel?”
Shuffling over to the sofa, I drop down on it and just like the bed, it’s soft and comfy. The sound of the electronic lock on the hotel room door beeps. Turning my head toward the sound, I wait to see who enters and when I see who it is, I smile. “Phew,” I hiss, it’s not some crazy stranger. I wasn’t abducted.
The sound causes him to lift his head my way. He smiles at me in a way that takes my breath away, and then he utters three words that shock the ever-loving shit out of me. “Good morning, wife.”