GRIFFIN
Iblinked. And blinked again. Sheesh. Where was I and why was it so freaking bright? Had I fallen asleep on the surface of the sun?
I was in a hotel room.
Oh, I was in Vegas. For The Standard. So yeah, basically the surface of the sun.
Then I remembered why I was inthathotel room.
And who I was with.
And what we’d done last night.
I broke into a grin.
Wait until Cash hears about this.He’s not going to believe I married Juliette Serrant.A laugh rumbled in my chest.
But it died on my next thought.Mom’s not going to believe it either. Or Dad. Granny. Gramps. The entire family will think I’ve lost my mind.
Oh well.They’ll get over it.
They’d have to. We were married. It was already done. When they met Jules, it would be irrelevant anyway.
They were going to fall in love with her, just like I had.
Maybe we’d call this morning. No—FaceTime. Theycouldn’t be mad once they saw her. All my mom would be thinking about were the beautiful grandbabies we’d give her.
Giddy and ready for the day, I rolled over to wake my wife with a good morning kiss…
But she wasn’t on the other side of the bed.
Huh.
The only evidence she’d been there at all was the indent her head had left in the pillow.She’sprobably in the shower.I sat up and stretched. Her dress was still draped over the chair.
But her bag was gone, and I didn’t hear the water running.
Did she leave? Why would she take her bag?
My throat tightened.
Hadn’t Aunt Tally disappeared the morning after Uncle Ashton married her? He said he woke up alone, just like this. What if Jules was in witness protection like Aunt Tally had been?
At that thought, my rib cage felt too tight for my lungs. There was no way. Two people in one family? The odds were insane.
Weren’t they?
Or maybe Jules was a runaway bride. Like that Julia Roberts movie. Only worse. She didn’t run before the wedding; she ran after. Just seduced men, married them in Vegas, and disappeared. And what if she never divorced any of them? Would that make me a polygamist?
Wait, that wasn’t right.
If a woman married more than one man, it was called something else. Oh, polyandry. So that would make me a polyanderer. No, a polyandrisser? A polyanderator? Whatever. The wronged party in a polyandry situation.
Could I be arrested?
My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by Granny Dupree’s scolding voice in my head:See, these are the things youfigure out about a woman if you wait longer than three days to marry her!
I heard a click on the other side of the door.
