Another step. Another thump. I looked around the room. Everything looked strange, and for the briefest moment, I didn’t know where I was. And then it all came back to me and with it all, a wave of nausea crashed through me like an unstoppable tsunami. I tried to stop it. I tried to cover my mouth and make it go away but . . .
I was so classy right now!Hunched over the toilet bowl, gripping the sides of it with my hands and wishing I had a third hand to hold my hair back. When it was all over, I flushed the toilet and collapsed onto the cold bathroom floor.
How much had I drunk last night?I lay there looking up at the ceiling as little pieces from the night before came back to me in bursts. Facemask man had been there. Wait . . . his name was Alex. Hadn’t there been a fire too? I raised my hand to my face and something caught my eye.
“What the hell!” I sat up straight and stared at my hand. There was a ring on it, on the ring finger.Had I gotten married last night?I crawled out of the bathroom in a state of panic. How? When? Who? Was it facemask man? Oh God, please tell me Réunion island wasn’t like Vegas and you could drive through and buy McDonald’s while an Elvis impersonator married you? That hadnotbeen in the inflight brochure!
I scrambled to my feet, walked over to the mirror and looked at myself. As if looking at myself like this might bring back memories of the night before. I could remember the bartender. I could remember us telling him our stories of woe, the fire, burning things, police and then . . . everything went blank. I stepped closer and scrutinized myself.What was that thing on my neck?I moved my hair away and looked at what seemed to be a giant mosquito bite. Had I gone bashing through the swamps last night?
My stomach suddenly growled at me. It screamed at me, begging me to put something in it other than tequila. So I had a shower, brushed my teeth—twice—grabbed some clothes that didn’t smell like smoke and tequila and headed for the breakfast area.
The food was spread out in front of me in colorful rows, and I went straight for the carbs. Croissants, bread and pastries and all the things I knew would absorb the remaining alcohol that I could feel lurking in the pit of my stomach. I was desperate for them! So desperate that I would have inhaled their sugary, floury goodness right in if I could have. I grabbed a table in the far corner away from everyone else, no need to inflict myself upon people and scare them, and sat down.
“Coffee?” A woman came up to me and asked as I’d just finished shoving the first of the custardy Danishes into my dry mouth.
“YES! Please.” I almost screamed this through a full mouth of crumbs. She looked at me like I was a little mad for a second and then rushed off to get the coffee. I hoped it would be strong. Very strong. The kind of strong where the spoon stands straight up. I went back to my carb fest and was just about to shove an entire croissant into my mouth whenhestepped into the room. I watched him. He looked fresh and clean and perfect. Like a newly cut bouquet of dewy spring flowers. A ray of warm bright sunshine, an effing rainbow arched across a once-stormy sky!Why did he look like that?
He glided effortlessly into the room with a smile on his face, nodding politely at people as he went.Was this my new husband?Just as I thought that, he caught my eye, smiled at me and waved.
Shit!What the hell had I done last night? I closed my eyes quickly, reaching deep into the dark recesses of my still-groggy mind, trying desperately to draw an image out, especially the one that would explain the rock on my finger, but couldn’t find a single one. When I opened my eyes again, Alex was sitting across from me. Still smiling.
“Hi,” he said, as if he was totally fine this morning. As if I had been the only one drinking.
“Hey,” I managed wearily.
“You don’t look great.” He looked at me and then reached up and put his hand across my forehead in a very medical fashion . . .oh wait, something was coming back to me . . . he was a doctor! A proctologist. He’d fixed my knees last night!God, that was sweet.Is that why I’d married him?
“Mmmm, I think I had way too much to drink,” I said.
“Me too.”
“You look fine, though.” I eyed him. He did look fine. In fact, he looked more than fine. Had he been this good-looking last night? Possibly another reason I’d married him? Had I fallen for the hot doctor bit and,oh shit, did we have sex? The thoughts whirled through my mind crazily.
“Here.” He pulled a handful of pills out of his pocket. “I brought them for you in case you needed them.” He dropped them onto the table. Pink, red, blue and a yellow and white one.
“What are they?” I eyed the colorful things suspiciously.
“Just a mix of vitamins and minerals. They kill a hangover, fast. You can trust me, I’m a doctor, remember?” He smiled at me. Killer smile.
“Okay.” I took the pills. Normally one shouldn’t take pills from a virtual stranger, but there was something about him that just set you at ease.
“So, great news,” he said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning in.
“What?” I asked, as I swallowed the last of the pills.
“I remember the kiss!” He held his hand up for a high-five and I stared at it blankly.
“Uh . . . what kiss?”
“You’re joking, right?” he said.
“No.” I shook my head. “To be honest, it’s all sort of fuzzy after the bonfire, uh, and why were we burning things on the beach, by the way?”
“Burn, baby, burn,” he said, and I shook my head. “The article in the magazine? How to get over your ex!”
“Aaaaah! Yes,” I said as I remembered writing Matt’s name on a serviette and burning it.
“It felt amazing,” he said.
