20. Lavinia
TWENTY
LAVINIA
I take a quick shower, which involves scrubbing my skin raw, and feel more human when I step out and dry myself.
I don’t have the energy to do anything to my hair other than put in some anti-frizz and curl cream, hoping it does the job.
I apply moisturizer, sunscreen, and concealer and I’m good to go.
It takes me roughly thirty minutes and even though each minute is precious, I needed a shower to wake myself up.
“I can’t be married, Jules,” I say. The panic’s set in. I may be a romantic at heart and might have dreamed of my wedding, but now that it’s happened, I’m not so sure I want it.
What do you mean I have a husband? I’m just a girl. I can’t be someone’s wife. What was I thinking saying yes to Josh? I hate him for leaving me at the altar, but at least I don’t have to be married.
Jules hooks her arm through mine as we walk down the hallway to the elevators.
“It’s okay. We’re going to find Roman, and you’re going to get this thing annulled and it’ll be like it never happened,” Jules offers soothingly.
This thing. My marriage.
I swallow, and nod. She’s right, of course she is. Roman doesn’t want to be married any more than I do. He’s said it repeatedly, he doesn’t believe in the concept of marriage.
We go up to his floor and knock on his door. There’s no answer.
“He’s gone! We’re too late!”
“Hang on,” Jules says. “You have his number. Just message him.”
I take a deep breath and nod rapidly. I’m so glad she’s being my voice of reason because I’m pretty sure that little voice inside my head jumped from the train and abandoned me. Why else would I have married Roman Maddox of all people?
I take my phone out from the pocket of my dress and message him.
Lavinia
Where are you? We need to talk.
His message comes almost immediately.
Roman
Downstairs in the casino.
I show the message to Jules, and she nods, leading us down to the casino.
Except the hotel casino is huge and I’m one loud noise away from a panic attack.
We’re never going to find him before he has to leave and then he’ll be gone for six days and I’ll remain married to him and what are my parents going to say when they find out and how is Drew going to react when he finds out and if this gets out I’ll be labelled a certain way because the world hates women and it hates successful women more than anything else and?—
“There you are, Mrs. Maddox.”
My thoughts slam into a wall and scatter. Roman is standing in front of me, a truly devastating smile on his face, his hair curling around his forehead.
Memories of last night flash before my eyes. Dancing with him in the club, pressed against a wall in a dark corner and riding his thigh as he whispered the dirtiest things in my ear, laughing about something as we walked down the strip, kissing him again and again, as if I had every right to.
Oh.
My heart slams against my chest, my palms growing sweaty. I start to smile back, and Jules pokes me in the side.
“Stay strong,” she whispers. Right. I’ve come for a reason and that reason is not to lose myself in Roman’s eyes.
“Why are you not panicking?” I demand. “We are literally,” I stop and look around to make sure we can’t be overheard, and whisper, “ married . To each other.”
Roman holds out the cup holder in his hand on which he’s carrying three iced coffees. He’s also carrying a bag of something that smells delicious and is making my stomach rumble.
“I got coffee. Lavender and oat latte, right?”
I nod mutely, taking the cup from him. How did he know that? He remembered my favorite ice cream flavor from when we were children, but I can chalk that up to having a good memory. I’ve never ordered a coffee in front of him, that I can remember.
“How do you know what kind of coffee I like?” I ask.
Roman shrugs, his cheeks turning a faint pink as he looks at Jules and gives her one of the other coffees.
“I know what you like,” he says unhelpfully.
“Oh, of course. I was with my fiancé for two years and in all that time, he never got my coffee right, but you somehow know without having to ask me. Stalker.” I mumble the last part under my breath.
I know he follows me on social media but even if I posted my coffee order there, it wasn’t in the last eight months.
He pauses mid sip, holding my gaze. “What you’re saying is, we’ve been married for less than a day and I’m already a better partner than the man you were with for two years?”
“We’re not doing this right now.” I shake my head. “I’m hungover, I feel like I’m going to throw up, and waking up married is not all sunshine and flowers like I thought it would be.”
“You thought marriage to Josh was going to be sunshine and flowers? Did you even know him?”
I take a sip of my coffee, and the cold is enough to ease my headache a little. I choose to ignore Roman’s comment about knowing Josh because apparently, I clearly didn’t know him.
“How did this happen?” I wave my left hand in front of his face as I continue to sip my coffee.
I’m curious because I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember. While I remember having a great time with Roman, laughing and dancing, the orgasm , I can’t remember what led to us getting married. I can’t remember how we got black out drunk.
“You said you wanted to have fun because you were tired of being ‘boring and predictable’.” He doesn’t use air quotes, but I sense them. Jules is standing quietly next to us, listening to the discussion intensely.
“Yeah, I meant get a haircut, try a new ice cream flavor, have a one-night stand. Not get married!”
Roman raises a shoulder in a shrug, motioning around us. “This is Vegas, and you rolled the dice. You should have been clearer about what you wanted. It’s like a genie; you never know what you’re going to get when you make a wish.”
“Figures my genie is a man, and not Christina Aguilera.”
Jules snickers next to me.
“If that’s the status quo, no wonder I don’t compare,” Roman says. “Wait, were you planning on having sex with me last night?”
I will myself not to blush. “Actually, I meant that guy who asked for my number on Fremont Street. He was cute.”
Roman legitimately growls at me.
“Oh, calm down. You’re a hockey player, not an alpha in an Omegaverse novel.”
Jules chokes on her coffee.
“If I was, I would have scent marked you by now,” Roman says.
Jules’s choking gets worse, and I thump her back as her face starts to turn red, tears streaming down her face. Roman quickly grabs a bottle of water from a passing stranger and uncaps it, handing it to Jules. I keep massaging her back until her breathing evens out and her face isn’t red anymore.
“Maybe we should get a move on,” Jules croaks.
“Right.” I swallow and turn to Roman. “We can get this marriage annulled and it’ll be like it never happened.” My voice squeaks over the word marriage and I clear my throat. I look at Jules for support and she nods.
“About that…” Roman trails off, titling his head slightly.
No, no, there’s no about that. I’m trying really hard not to shut down and panic.
My immediate response right now is to find out where I went wrong.
What did I say or do last night that led to this?
How did I mess up? I should have stopped drinking after we left the club.
I should have listened to Drew and stayed put.
Ugh, I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing with my brother.
This is all my fault and now I have to solve it without anyone finding out or I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. And I can’t think of an answer while standing in the middle of a casino with the constant noise from the slot machines and cacophony of people worsening my headache.
I don’t notice a large group walking by us and someone bumps into me. He continues walking but Roman reaches out an arm and grabs the back of his hoodie, yanking him back.
“Watch where you’re going,” Roman hisses. “That’s my wife you bumped into.”
The man, he can’t be older than 21 or 22, looks at me, and my cheeks flush. Why did Roman have to say it like that?
“I’m sorry,” the guy says hastily.
“Don’t worry about it.” I grab Roman’s arm and urge him to leave this random guy alone. The last thing he needs is to get into a fight off the ice and over something so miniscule.
Roman releases the hoodie and when the guy turns to look at him, his eyes widen slightly. “Hey, aren’t you?—?”
“No!” Roman snaps.
Taking my hand, he tugs in a different direction, and I go only because I don’t want an audience to our conversation.
I look over my shoulder to make sure Jules is following us.
The guy from before looks confused as he joins his friends, and I hope no one believes him when he says Roman Maddox called someone his wife.
“What were you thinking?” I ask. “If he tells someone it can be a big problem for us.”
“Right, about that,” he says again.
“Please stop saying that,” I request.
“There’s no about that, ” Jules adds. “You made a mistake. I’ve already found three lawyers back in Boston who can get this resolved ASAP.”
Roman looks at Jules and then me, expressionless. He’s not agreeing with Jules. Why isn’t he saying that we’ll get this marriage annulled?
“Roman, we agreed. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” I remind him.
“It’s Vegas, Vin, not an alternate universe,” Roman replies. “I guess I lied when I agreed to that because there’s no way one night with you was going to be enough.”
My heart flutters and the thing is, I don’t want to forget about us either. I thought when we go back to Boston, we can see what this thing is between us. But now we have wedding rings hanging over our heads and a marriage certificate burning a hole in my pocket.
I can’t be the girl who gets married in Las Vegas on a whim. My whole life I’ve done what everyone’s expected of me. My parents never received a complaint from my teachers or coaches.
I got good grades, I did my chores without complaint, I didn’t break curfew, I didn’t go to parties. If I tell someone I got drunk and married in Vegas, they’ll think it’s a joke. Not good little Lavinia Callahan fucking up.
“Can we speak in private?” Roman asks.
“We are in private.” I look around us. We’re in a corner of the casino that is mostly empty. The nearest slots player is four chairs down and they have this glazed look in their eyes as they keep rolling, a cloud of smoke hanging over their head. I doubt they’re paying us any attention.
Roman looks pointedly at Jules, who stares back unblinking.
“Oh, you mean Jules. I mean, I guess? But I’m going to tell her everything anyway unless you’re about to tell me something incredibly personal,” I say.
Roman inhales deeply and the paper bag that he’s still holding crumbles in his hand. As if remembering its existence, he looks down in surprise and then holds it out for me. I take it and peek inside. It’s a donut. Why does he have to be so sweet?
I can’t make my brain and my heart align because my brain is telling me this is a mistake, and my heart is gleeful because we married our crush.
“I don’t think we should get an annulment right away,” Roman says. “We might be able to help each other.”