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One of the girls?
She held it up to her ear as the elevator pinged and slid open silently. Her stomach revolted at the backdrop for the freaking elevator. White lace and twining fingers. Of course there were gold bands on their damn fingers.
Like the heavy gold ring Michael wore.
She bent at the stomach as the world fuzzed again.
You will not be sick. You will not be sick. You will not be sick.
“Mama. We miss you mama. Hurry home soon mama. Pop Pop doesn’t read Thomas right, but we had fun anyway. Miss you Mama.”
“Okay, let me have the phone, Axlsaurus.”
Her little boy laughed. The laugh that forever pulled her out of a bad mood. The laugh that made everything okay. Her dad cleared his throat.
“We can’t wait to see you. We had a great time at the picnic and he had his first campout with the kids. He had terrible food, but he was a riot. We’ll definitely have to try that again. Okay, sorry. Just let me know what time your flight comes in and we’ll come get you. Bye honey. Say bye!”
“Bye!”
Then the line went dead.
She wasn’t even aware of going all the way down to the lobby. The phone call had completely distracted her. She slapped their floor number, but not before a group of ladies got on with her. She tried to text Jinx and Ivy, but neither of the girls replied.
“Card.” She curled her fingers into fists, squeaking when her borrowed shorts slid low on her hips. She was a hot mess and she needed her girls. Surely someone had to be in their room. It rang and rang, oh and rang so more. No answer. “Fuck.”
The older lady’s eyebrows shot up and the younger girl beside her snorted.
“Sorry. No room key.” She hauled the borrowed shorts back up to her waist, bunching the material at one hip.
She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
She could do this. She was a capable woman. She juggled three jobs and a kid. This was cake dammit. So much cake. She’d go back downstairs and get a new room key and go back to her room and pack. Then they’d get everything sorted and she could just chalk the whole weekend up to an indiscretion. A story for when she was old and gray.
Guess what? I actually married a stranger in Vegas for three minutes. Isn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?
Best story ever.
All she needed to do was get out of the elevator. As they flew by the fifteenth floor, she slapped the button for eighteen. When the doors opened, she sprinted across the marble floors to the other bank of elevators on that level. Michael was about five hundred sizes bigger than her.
How could his pants be so freaking big on her? He was lean dammit.
She remembered curling her arms around his tight middle last night. So muscular and perfect.
Whoa. Where did that memory come from?
Gah. Not to mention that morning he’d been walking around the hotel room without a stitch on. Mouthwateringly tight everywhere, even if he was a complete asshole.
She hauled the cargos up again and bunched the material around her fingers. Something snagged on the oversized T-shirt she was waring.
The ring.
She stopped in the middle of the shoppers rushing around her.
She’d drooled over the ring on this level. She twisted her hand free to stare down at her dream ring. Figures it would be the thing that brought her world crashing down. For God’s sake it might have been one of the lesser expensive rings, but it was still sapphires and diamonds. It still had a four digit price tag.
Maybe even more.
She swallowed down the flood of spit.
