Chapter Two
“SO… IS sex happening, or…?” is what Tad finally says.
Lewis is on his back, hands over his face. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex when we just found out we got married last night.”
“Well,” Tad says. And then, “Okay, I can see where it might feel a bit inappropriate.”
“A bit?”
“In my defense, I like sex.”
“That’s not a defense, that’s the human condition!”
“And I really liked sex with you,” Tad adds.
That shuts Lewis up. He pushes himself upright. Tad looks embarrassed. “I don’t do this very often, either,” Tad says.
“Marry strangers?” Lewis asks, but his heart is slowing down and his lungs are filling easier. This isn’t insurmountable. Divorce is a thing. And this is Vegas—it’s probably just as easy to get divorced as it is to get married, right?
Tad wrinkles his nose, and it’s very, very cute.
“I feel kind of funny about it,” Lewis admits. He can’t explain. It just… feels weird. Three minutes ago, this was still a hookup. Now they’re going to have to do paperwork and legal stuff, and Lewis feels ill, even though doing legal stuff is his literal job, and he just—it just. Doesn’t feel right. “I don’t think we should,” he says. After a second, he adds, “Sorry.”
He rolls out of bed. “I’m going to shower. I’ll just be like, five or ten minutes, and then we can figure out what we need to get divorced.”
Something flickers across Tad’s face, but Lewis refuses to consider that it might be hurt. You don’t get hurt about a divorce following a drunken wedding that neither of you remembers.
“I’m guessing we’ll have to start with the marriage certificate,” Tad says dryly. Maybe Lewis imagined the hurt.
Lewis’s head is pounding and standing up makes him feel sicker, but the shower helps. He’d like to stay in longer, but Tad probably wants to get ready. Or maybe they’ll go back to his hotel on the way to city hall, or wherever they have to go for the divorce? Are there divorce courts on the strip?
When he steps out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist—he should have brought clothes in—Tad announces from the bed, “We can’t get divorced in Nevada.”
“Very funny.”
“No, seriously!” Tad turns his phone toward Lewis, like he can read it from across the room. “Come here if you don’t believe me. Look. ‘In order to dissolve a marriage in Nevada, at least one of the spouses must have resided in the state for at least six weeks.’”
“Well, fuck that.” Hopefully, Lewis adds, “Any chance you live in Nevada?”
“I’d rather die.”
“Okay, well, it would help us out right now if you did.”
“Die?”
“No! Live in Nevada!”
“I don’t,” Tad says, scooting over in bed to make room. Lewis slides in next to him. Their legs press together.
“So where do you live?” Lewis asks.
Tad tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. Lewis’s eyes follow the movement. “Manhattan.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too!”
With an incredulous laugh, Tad says, “Really. That’s… hm.”
Nudging him, Lewis asks, “That’s what?”
A smile flits across Tad’s face. “Funny? A coincidence? Fate?”
“Not fate,” Lewis says. He doesn’t do fate anymore. If he keeps believing in fate, he has to acknowledge it has a hate boner for him.
“Fine. I guess we’ll get divorced in New York?”
“I guess.” Lewis thunks his head against the headboard. Pain ricochets through his skull. Fuck, he needs ibuprofen. “Wait, aren’t annulments a thing?”
“I checked that too. We’d have to prove we were so intoxicated that we couldn’t give meaningful consent.” Tad hesitates. “It’s just as easy to get a divorce, I think. Probably easier. Unless you have, uh, religious considerations?”
In another situation, Lewis might laugh about the idea of him being religious enough to care about having a marriage on his spiritual record. “No, that doesn’t matter. I just want to do whatever’s easiest. I can’t believe I got drunk married . And I don’t even remember it.”
“I’m sure it was lovely,” Tad says. “Maybe your friend Stacy took pictures?”
“I can’t believe I came to Vegas for my best friend’s bachelorette party and I got married.”
“Hey. It’s okay.” Tad brushes Lewis’s hair off his face, which feels intimate. And inappropriate. Because they might be married, and sure, they fucked last night, but they don’t know each other.
Not that Lewis moves away. He likes the feel of Tad’s fingers in his hair.
Tad stuffs his hand back along his side. “It’s not the worst thing two people have ever done. I don’t remember the wedding, but I remember the sex. It was good.”
“It was,” Lewis admits. Certain parts of him are regretting that he nixed a round two. Or possibly a much higher number.
If it weren’t for the Dating Break….
Ugh. But no. In an alternate universe, this is the start of something. An alternate universe where Lewis hasn’t spent the last ten years dating all the wrong men. An alternate universe where he isn’t a sucker who got cheated on.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay, let me think. First things first, we need the marriage certificate. I’ll get that from Stace, if you wanna stay here and figure out what we need to do to get divorced.”
Tad wrinkles his nose. “So I don’t get to meet your friend? Even though we’re married?”
“You met her last night,” Lewis points out. “And we’re not married for real.”
“The state of Nevada disagrees.”
Ugh.
Lewis drags himself up to get dressed. Tad grabs his phone. “You can use the shower,” Lewis says.
Tad glances up. “Thanks.”
Lewis doesn’t move. It’s hard to stop looking at Tad, sprawled on the bed. He really is beautiful. Beautiful and funny and fun .
But the Dating Break is in effect for good reason. Lewis has a decade of relationships that have ranged from meh to bad to prove that he sucks at choosing boyfriends. Getting so wasted that he can’t remember marrying someone is just another tick in the Lewis Sucks At This column.
“Okay,” Lewis says. “So, I’ll see you soon.”
“Mm hm.”
Lewis wets his lips and opens his mouth to say something—he just doesn’t know what. “Okay,” he says again and lets himself out.
“THIS IS a look,” Lewis says.
Stacy’s blond hair is somehow both clumpy and frizzy, and it’s also about three times the size of her head. She’s still in her pajamas, and she also still smells like tequila. “I hate how put together you are right now,” she says. Her voice sounds raw.
Lewis is only put together in comparison to her, but he’s not arguing. “Can I have the thing?”
Putting her hands on her hips, Stacy says, “Lewis Stephen Mancini-Sommer, how dare you refer to your marriage certificate like that on the weekend of my bachelorette party?”
“First of all, it’s just a piece of paper, second of all, it doesn’t even count, and third of all, you can’t go all rom-com with my life anymore.” He peers around her into the room. “Where is it?”
Stace has that look on her face she gets when she’s revving up to Full Romance Mode. “This is the best bachelorette party ever. My maid of honor found love!”
Trying to sidle past her, Lewis says, “Pretty sure hooking up doesn’t count as finding love.”
Not to be deterred—or pushed past—Stacy says, “It could. Plenty of people get married to a hookup. That’s how Alang and I met.”
“Alang and you are different,” Lewis says. “You were both ready to give up on dating apps and swiped right one more time, and you both only did it because your BFFs told you to give this one last person a shot.”
A disgustingly happy smile settles on Stacy’s face. “I know. It’s fate!”
That’s the annoying part. Or it would be, if Lewis wasn’t genuinely thrilled for his BFF. They used to go out and commiserate over how unlucky in love they both were. Then Stacy met Alang, and Lewis thought it meant he was finally going to find The One. Instead, he had more of the same shit relationships that peaked—or valleyed?—with Jonah, who stole his Pride Chucks after cheating on him with a guy from the gym.
“Tell me all about Thaddeus,” Stacy says.
“He goes by Tad, and that’s pretty much all I know about him.”
“Lewwwwis,” Stacy says. “Come onnnn. How was the sex?”
“None of your business.”
She covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh my god, was it bad? Did you have whiskey dick? Did you come too fast?”
“Can you just let me in so I can get the thing?” Lewis demands.
“Did he come too fast?”
When he gives her The Look, she holds out her pinkie finger. “Remember the pact.”
“We agreed the pact was nullified once you and Alang got serious.”
She pouts. “Don’t use lawyer words. Anyway, you’re not serious about Tad.”
“Can you just give me the piece of paper? We need it to get divorced.”
Stacy’s arm shoots out to block the door even more. Lewis isn’t going to push past her—this isn’t sixth grade and shoving each other to get to the good N64 controller first in Lewis’s basement. “ Divorced? ”
“Um, yeah.” Lewis gives her an incredulous look. “We don’t know each other?”
“You could try to make it work!”
“Stace. You’re clearly still drunk.” Maybe he can duck under her arm? “You got your rom-com moment. It’s not gonna happen for me. It’s definitely not happening right now. Tad and I made a mistake. We’re going to fix it.”
Her eyes get big and honestly, he’s too hungover to head her off. “Lewis, this is your fight against Fox Books. It’s your working at the L fare token booth. It’s your fake friendship with the prince of England.”
“Do you have a point or are you just listing rom-com premises?” Lewis asks.
She purses her lips. “My point is that you’re in your dark before the dawn, and you’re going to meet the love of your life. And what if it’s Tad?”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You can meditate over it on your retreat,” Stacy says triumphantly.
“Sure.” Lewis folds his arms over his chest and stares her down.
Finally, she sighs and goes to retrieve the marriage certificate. It’s creased but otherwise unscathed. Good. It would be just his luck if the thing was drenched with barbecue sauce and tequila, and no court would accept it because of that.
As she hands it over, she says, “I’d say congratulations, but you don’t deserve it. Where’s the Lewis who I cried with over Love, Actually and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days ?”
Lewis checks the marriage certificate again to make sure it’s the authentic article, like it may have magically become a takeout menu in the last five seconds. “He realized life isn’t a fairy tale when he got cheated on and his gayest shoes got stolen.” He gives her a kiss on the forehead. “Limo will be here at eleven. See you then.”
As he walks away, she lets out a squeal that echoes down the hallway. “Lewis!! What if this is your What Happens in Vegas ?”