Chapter Five
“Mrs. Valentine!” a chipper voice chimed as I moved inside the front door, pretending to ignore the way the bell on it set off the sound of the Wedding March.
“What?” I asked, brows pinching.
“Mrs. Valentine,” she repeated with a big cherry-lipped smile.
Mrs. Valentine.
Well.
That made the world feel like it tilted off its axis.
But at least I knew Harrison’s last name now.
Not mine.
Not yet.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
The woman reached up, tucking some of her red hair behind her ear, likely not liking the look on my face.
But she made her smile stretch wider, even though it was no longer meeting her eyes.
“Are you here to pick up your package?”
“My… package?”
“Why, yes, Mr. Valentine splurged for our super deluxe package.”
“Super deluxe package?”
“Yes, of course!” God, how was she so chipper? “It included witnesses, a bouquet—though, you didn’t need that, not with that gorgeous one you brought with you!”
We brought flowers with us?
That was very premeditated, wasn’t it?
But, then again, so were the rings, if we’d gotten them before, not after, like I’d assumed.
I was hoping it had been a literal spur-of-the-moment thing, not something we’d discussed beforehand.
“And there was the videography and ten candid ceremony photos!”
Geez.
There was actual footage of this crime?
“You two were just in such a hurry to, well, anyone could guess,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eye. “And you forgot to look at the footage.”
“Oh, right. Actually, I need to speak to a manager. Or supervisor. Or… someone in charge. Immediately.”
“Oh,” she said, mouth going into a pout. Like maybe she knew what this was about. Like maybe this happened often. “Okay, well, Johnny isn’t in yet. But he will be soon. I could set you up to check out your footage while you wait, if you want. You two were so sweet.”
Her eyes actually went dreamy.
Had we been that cute?
Or was this woman just delusional about the ‘love stories’ that walked through her doors?
Either way, my curiosity was a little piqued. If I saw the footage, maybe it would knock some more memories free of the night before.
“Alright,” I agreed, sounding about as enthusiastic as I’d be about a root canal.
“Okay, come on, right this way. Oh! I remember that ring!” she said, coming out from behind the desk. “It’s even prettier than I remembered.”
She snatched up my hand to look at the ring for a moment before bustling forward toward the hall.
I followed, glancing at all the canvas prints on the walls, wondering how many of these supposedly happy couples were still married.
“Here we are,” the lady said, opening the door to an office and ushering me inside.
It was a small, tidy space with a desk empty save for the desktop computer.
I dropped down on one of the guest chairs as she moved to the desk.
“Okay. Let’s see,” she said, her long red nails tapping on the keys. “Valentine, Valen… there you are!”
She turned the monitor to me.
And there we were.
“Wait,” I said, zeroing in on myself. “I wasn’t wearing a black dress?”
That was the last thing I remembered: putting on the dress after hooking up with Harrison… then going down to the bar together.
But the woman in the picture I was looking at was wearing a white dress. A white wedding dress.
It was a simple one, something even a sober version of me might have picked out. It was white, sheath, with a V-neck and an ankle-length skirt. Nothing too fancy. But very clearly matrimonial.
“Oh, no, dear. You had the most lovely wedding dress.”
We’d stopped for rings and a wedding gown? How long had we been talking about getting married? And, more importantly, why?
“Here’s the mouse so you can click through it all,” she said, passing it to me.
The image she’d brought up was just of me. Me standing in a lovely rustic barn-type room with about twenty seats and an altar.
And I looked… really excited.
I reached for the mouse and clicked.
Then there was Harrison.
He wasn’t just next to me. We were melded together. His arms were around my upper body. One of mine was around his waist.
We were both looking at the camera.
And we were beaming.
My smile was big enough to make my eyes crinkle.
Another click.
There we were again.
This time, I was still looking at the camera. But Harrison? Harrison was watching me. With a look in his blue eyes that made my heart flutter.
I quickly clicked off that image.
But the next wasn’t much better.
We were gazing at each other.
My hands were framing his face.
And we looked, to any objective outsider, (and even me, who didn’t remember any of this), that we were a couple very much in love. Not practical strangers.
I sucked in a deep breath and clicked again.
It was just a few seconds later. We were in the same position, but our lips were locked.
I didn’t have a sudden memory of the moment. But I did have the memory of his lips, of how he brought me to shivers and butterflies with his kiss.
So I wasn’t surprised by how the version of me in the image clung to him, melted into him.
The next few images were us at that same altar, but with a man standing between us in a white suit with a cheesy heart-printed tie.
Then there I was putting a ring on his finger. Then him putting one on mine.
Then, of course, the kiss.
I was bent back halfway, seemingly kissing Harrison with everything in me.
Then there we were, beaming at the camera again, my hand thrust out to show off my rings.
Then I was swooped up in Harrison’s arms.
The last image was of him carrying me and kissing me at the same time.
“Oh,” the receptionist said when the front door chime sounded again. “I’ll be right back. I just need to see who that is.”
I gave her a nod, then clicked the mouse one last time.
Then there we were.
But not in image form.
In video.
My heart froze, then tripped into overdrive as I watched myself walking down the aisle.
Steadily.
No tripping, stumbling, or veering off to the side. I didn’t look nearly as drunk as I hoped I would be to make a decision like that.
The videographer panned away from me to take in Harrison instead.
And he looked… enamored.
There was a flutter in my chest that I tried to ignore as I watched us stand at the altar, all smiles and hand-holding.
The minister started his spiel, but it wasn’t until video-Harrison was reaching into his pocket that another memory surfaced.
I could almost feel the ring sliding up my finger, could feel the weight of it, the coolness of the metal. And, finally, the sweeping feeling in my chest.
Almost as if…
“Mrs. Valentine!” a voice said, making me jolt back upright in my seat.
One last glance at the video showed me saying “I do” to Harrison. Then he reached for his wrist for a quick second before he bent me backward and kissed me.
Turning, I saw the man from the video.
The minister.
And, I figured, Johnny.
The manager.
He was in a tan suit this time.
And his tie was full of lipstick kisses.
“I heard you wanted to speak to me,” he said, coming into the room, turning the monitor, and taking back the mouse.
“Yes,” I said, sucking in a deep breath to try to bring some order back to my nervous system that felt a little fried from looking at the evidence of our wedding.
“I’m assuming you aren’t just here for access to your photos and videos.”
“I am not.”
I reached my hand into my bag, grabbing a handful of five-thousand-dollar coins and stacking them up on the desk.
“What’s this?”
“I was thinking that the chances you submitted the paperwork for my supposed wedding today are slim. If the paperwork just so happened to… fall into the shredder and those image and video files got corrupted…”
Johnny’s gaze slid to the stacks of chips. It was a lot of money. I could see him calculating just how much.
But he didn’t have that light in his eye I expected when he looked at me again.
“I’m afraid there are procedures, Mrs. Valentine.”
“Sure, but there are ways… around procedures,” I insisted, stacking more chips, wishing I’d gone back to my room to get the rest of the ones hidden in my boot. I’d put every dime I had down on this if it made it go away.
“What you are suggesting is illegal.”
“What should be illegal is allowing an extremely intoxicated woman to get married. That certainly seems like something she shouldn’t legally be able to consent to.
For God’s sake, if I was too drunk to legally consent to consummating this marriage, then I definitely couldn’t consent to entering into it. ”
“I assure you, everything was done legally. As you can see, we have photo and video proof that you were quite willing, one might even say overjoyed, to be married. Once the ceremony is performed, we are legally obligated to submit the paperwork.”
Hope deflated in my chest.
They probably dealt with hysterical and enraged people every day. People who were drunk when they said Yes too.
He wasn’t going to be swayed by my emotions.
And the money didn’t seem even the least bit tempting either.
My jaw quivered, and I had to fight to blink back the tears that flooded my eyes.
“Look, Mrs. Valentine, there are plenty of people who regret this decision. Luckily, this city is full of attorneys who can… make it all go away.”
“Not without a trace,” I snapped, swiping my chips back into my bag and storming out of the room before I cried in front of the bastard.
“Can I get a copy of these?” a newly familiar voice said as I moved out of the office.
Then there he was.
Harrison.
Casually leaning over the reception desk, looking at something on her computer.
Our wedding images and video, no doubt.
“You bastard,” I snapped, storming over toward him.
“My lovely wife—” he started as he straightened.
I shoved my hands into his chest, making him go back a step, his brows raising.
“How much did you pay him?” I snapped.
“Pay who?” he asked, brows pinching.
“Him.. them!” I said, flinging an arm back toward Johnny and the woman. “How much did it take?”
“For the wedding?”
“To make it so they wouldn’t make this go away.”
“As I was just telling the lovely Mrs. Valentine, no matter the enticement, once the ceremony is completed, we must file the paperwork.”
“Enticement,” Harrison repeated, gaze only for me.
“Is this what you do?” I asked, too hungover, too frustrated, too emotional for this conversation. My voice was getting high, pinched. “You’re so rich that the whole world is boring, so you get your rocks off by forcing women into—”
My voice caught.
Tears pricked.
There was no more fighting this.
I had to get away.
Get myself back together.
I turned to storm off.
But Harrison’s hand reached for me, wrapping gently around my wrist.
“Layna…”
There was that soft voice again.
I couldn’t stand it.
I yanked my hand free and stormed outside.
I pressed the sunglasses on my face so no one could see I was fighting off tears.
Then I turned back in the direction of the lawyer’s office.
One way or another, this was going to be done by the end of the day.
Then, well, then life could go back to normal.