Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Wilder
I wake up with the urge to piss and am so disoriented, I can't see where I am. Reaching for my phone on the nightstand, I'm confused when I can't find it like usual.
Shit, I must've lost it at some point last night, or rather, this morning when I stumbled into my room. However long ago that was...
The clock says it's after seven but I don't remember coming home last night.
Wouldn't be the first time.
Since I can't use my flashlight, I blindly crawl out of bed. I trip over random shit on the floor and smack my toe.
"Fuck..." Hopping on one leg, I keep going until I find a door.
My eyes are barely open but the bright light causes me to close them completely. I feel around for a lightswitch to turn it off but can't find one.
It's not until the door closes behind me, I realize I'm in the hallway. A second too late.
"Dammit." I smack the back of my head against the wood, but I still need to pee, so I walk to Waylon's room and knock.
Looking down, I notice I'm only in my boxers and knock again, desperately needing him to wake up before someone sees me.
But he always did sleep like the dead.
Exhaustion takes over, so I slide down the door and wait. They'll eventually have to get up for breakfast.
“What the fuck? Wilder!” Waylon's booming voice wakes me from my nap.
Opening my eyes, I smile in relief. “Hey… finally .”
“What the hell are you doin’ out here?” he asks and then I notice Harlow standing next to him with a concerned look on her face. She's still in her pajamas, so I'm not sure how they knew I was out here if they weren't on their way out.
“I forgot my key,” I explain, trying to get to my feet.
“This ain’t your room,” Waylon tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me up “Where’s your phone? It says your location is like on the roof or something.”
“I dunno, I lost it,” I mutter. “And I lost my key, so that’s why I came here.”
I have no idea where I put it last night because I have no memory after we left the cowboy-themed bar. We drank...a lot.
Oh fuck . Delilah. Where the hell is she?
“You wanna tell me about this?” Waylon grabs my left hand, revealing a brand-new wedding band on my ring finger.
“Oh shit…” My eyes widen, staring at it and wondering how the hell that got there. “Who’d I marry?”
If it's who I think it is ? —
“Jesus Christ,” Waylon mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “My ex-girlfriend, you fucker.”
Harlow snickers.
“ Delilah ?” I need to hear him confirm it because there's no way she'd agree to marry me if we were sober.
“Yep,” he says.
“Fuck…she’s gonna kill me, ain’t she?” I scratch my head, contemplating what the hell I'm going to do now.
“Oh yeah…” Waylon shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I might as well start writin’ your eulogy now.”
Waylon finally lets me inside to use the bathroom.
"How'd y'all know I was out here?" I ask once I've washed my hands.
"Your wife called in a panic because she woke up and you were missin'," Waylon explains.
I can't help smiling at him calling her that.
"Get that dopey look off your face. She's gonna murder you."
"You don't even know if this is my fault. We were both wasted," I defend. "I just don't remember it."
"That doesn't explain why your location shows on the roof..." Waylon says, looking at his screen. "Oh wait, it moved."
Harlow glances over, tilting her head. "It's apparently flyin' over The Strip."
"Great." I blow out a frustrated breath. "Gonna need to go buy a new one before we leave."
Waylon's gaze lowers to my left hand. "I think you've got bigger problems than that right now."
My chest tightens. "Did she seem mad?"
"She's textin' me right now." Harlow's tense expression doesn't give me a good feeling. "She's waitin' for ya."
I suck in a deep breath and slowly blow it out. "Alright, tell her I'm comin'. Wish me luck."
"Good luck, brother-in-law!"
Waylon chuckles.
When I make the walk of shame to my room, Delilah's standing in front of the open door, blocking the entrance.
Her arms crossed tightly over her chest and the scowl etched on her face makes it painfully clear how pissed she is.
“Hi, hubby ,” she deadpans.
"Mornin'." I grin and then cup her face to lean in for a kiss, but she jerks back before I can touch her lips.
I step into the room, letting the door close behind me.
"If you're gonna yell at me, can you do it after I've slept a few more hours?"
She shoves me before I can pass her, then waves her left hand in my face. "How the hell did this happen?"
"I was hopin' you'd tell me..." I shrug, scrubbing a hand through my bedhead. "I don't remember anythin' after we left that cowboy bar. We took those last shots and then?—"
"You asked if I trusted you and I stupidly said yes!"
"So why're you yellin' at me? For all I know, this was your idea."
She rolls her eyes, folding her arms again. "This has your name written all over it."
"Not gonna deny that but still, if we got married, you would've had to sign the license too. Are you sayin' I forced you to do that too?"
Her arms drop to her side. "No. I found that on the dresser."
Walking over, I grab it and read it over. Sure enough, two signatures.
"Oh shit, we went to the Little White Wedding Chapel.” I breathe out an amused laugh.
Delilah stands next to me, reading it over again. "Oh God, I remember what else you said."
"Do I even wanna know?"
"You asked if I wanted to sin with you in Sin City and then after we left the hotel, we walked to the chapel."
Oh fuck, she's right. I remember that now.
And then I told her to let me prove marriage wasn't a bad idea.
"Oh and here's the receipt." She picks it up from the floor and her brows raise as she scans over it. "Looks like you sprung for the deluxe package."
When she bursts out laughing, I'm taken off guard from the scowl she was just wearing.
"We picked out rings there..." She waves her left hand again, reading over the paper as she paces the room. "Pretty pricy ones too."
"Only the best for my wife."
Her smile drops, clearly not amused by me calling her that.
"Too bad we're returnin' them."
Before I have the chance to argue, she rushes to the bed and picks up her phone. "Wait, they gave us a link for the photos. I remember puttin' it in my notes app."
"Hold on. Go back. Why would we return the rings?"
"Um...because we're gettin' this annulled as soon as possible. I'm not keepin' a ring when we drunkenly got hitched."
I scratch along my jawline, trying to figure out how to slow her down and talk about this without freaking her out.
"Oh my God!" Her palm covers her mouth as she stares at her phone screen. "It should be illegal to allow people this drunk to get married."
Curious, I sit next to her and look. Sure enough, photo after photo of us posing with bloodshot eyes and dopey smiles. "Jesus Christ."
I can't help but laugh because it's clear as a cloudless sky we weren't in our right minds. But I don't remember feeling that drunk at the time. Those tequila shots must've caught up to me before I realized it.
"It's not like we didn't talk about marriage..." I begin, which by the look on her face, is a bad place to start. "Maybe we give it a shot before rushin' to get it annulled?"
"Are you outta your damn mind? You're still drunk, aren't you?" She looks more intently at me.
"No," I say offended. "We're datin', so it's not like?—"
"We've been datin' for like two minutes! Wilder, you cannot be serious." She pins me with a look of disbelief. "We can't jump from being friends to havin’ a few hot make-out sessions to then becomin’ husband and wife. That's... insanity !"
"Why not?"
" Why ?" she deadpans, then holds up a finger. "We haven't even had sex. We don't live together. We haven't even gone on a real date—unless you wanna count walkin' me down the aisle," she says dryly, continuing to put up more fingers. "We already have targets on our backs at home, so?—"
"This'll give them somethin' else to talk about for a while." I shrug. "Who cares."
"I care, Wilder! Stayin' married when neither of us were ready in the first place is a recipe for disaster. Marriage isn’t supposed to be temporary."
"Agreed, it's forever."
"We're not ready for that level of commitment."
"I am," I blurt.
"Wilder, be serious."
Instead of continuing to argue with her, I get down on one knee and grab her left hand.
"W-what're you doin'?" she stumbles over her words, and I grin at the faint blush covering her cheeks.
"Delly..." I begin, licking my lips while trying to calm my racing heart. "I know this is quick, and you think we're going to fail, but if you give me thirty days to prove that I can be the husband you deserve, I promise not to let you down. If—for whatever reason—you still wanna get it annulled after that, then I won't fight you on it. But please, give me the chance first. Let me show you how great we can be together."
"Wilder..." she whispers my name, swallowing hard. "I don't wanna hurt you."
"Nothin' could top meetin' you for the first time and then havin' to see you with my twin brother. That's a level of pain I wouldn't wish on anyone."
Her eyes water, but she tries to hide it by closing her eyes and tilting her head back.
"It's only a month, baby. Move in with me and let's give this a real shot."
"Move in with you?” Her eyes pop open. “What about Mattie?"
"Well...as much as I like your roommate, I think squeezin’ the three of us in my bed might be a bit snug."
She playfully swats my chest. "I don't wanna leave her hangin'. She relies on me for half the rent and bills."
"I wasn't gonna charge you to live with me, Delly."
"Why not? If we're married and livin' together, shouldn't I be responsible for half?"
"It comes outta my check before I even see it. Plus, even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't let you pay anyway. And just to further prove that I want this with you, I'll cover your expenses so Mattie doesn't have to worry. Hell, I'll pay for both of yours."
"You don't have to do that."
"I wouldn't mind either way. Whatever it takes for you to give me a chance..."
She bites her lower lip, contemplating in silence, and I wait while the carpet digs into my bare knee. But I'll stay here for as long as it takes for her to decide.
"One condition."
"Done."
"You haven't even heard it yet." She laughs. "We continue to date like normal. Just because we're married doesn't mean I'm expected to be in the kitchen cookin’ dinner every night or doin' your laundry."
I smirk. "I've seen your apartment, so I wouldn't expect that anyway."
Her snarky glare has my smile widening.
"Yeah, well...it's been a rough year."
"I get it..." And I do. After losing her dad, I saw the spark leave her eyes. "Let me do those things for you. That should be my job, as your husband , to help you through your grief, make sure you're eatin’ and have clean clothes, and whatever else you need me to do."
She looks at me skeptically. "You can barely do those things for yourself."
"But for the right person, I'd put in the time and effort to do it for them. And in case you've been livin' in a fish bowl for the past nine years, that person is you."
"You're really serious about this?"
I nod, squeezing her hand. "Yes. I wouldn't have asked you to sin with me if I wasn't."
Her eyes roll but the grin on her face tells me she loves it. "Okay."
"Okay?" I blurt loudly, needing to make sure I heard correctly.
She sighs, nodding. "I'll give you thirty days."
I jump to my feet and this time when I cup her face, I crash my mouth to hers and she doesn't push away.
"And you get one chance! One," she says firmly in between kissing me.
"That's all I need, baby."