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“I love you, too, sweetie. Don’t forget you were there for me every step of the way when I found out I was pregnant with a stranger’s baby.”
“The love of your life disguised as a stranger.”
“Yeah, that. Now, talk to me.”
Where could she start? Her friend didn’t know about the twins. Didn’t know Bex had a long-term girlfriend. Neither did I, the fucker. Didn’t know the band had broken up.
“Shit went down last night, so I gave them their space and wandered around Vegas. I’d left my purse and wallet on the bus, so I was stranded.”
“Stop.” Micky exhaled into the receiver. “You were stranded in Las Vegas?”
“No, I know. I was going to call you.”
“Oh, no, bitch. You hear me loud and clear. You are never stranded. Do you understand what I’m telling you? I don’t care where you are. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of giving birth. You do not walk this Earth alone. I am always here. You don’t have a wallet in Vegas, you call me immediately. You don’t wait to see what might happen. You call me, and I make sure you have a hotel room, food in your belly, a person to talk to, and a plane ticket home. You get me?”
“I totally get you.” Della straightened. “I should’ve called you.” The effort to stand wiped her out, so she slumped again. “But I didn’t. So, here I am.”
“Okay, you were stranded, and then what happened?”
“I just don’t remember.” She tried to bring the hazy images into focus. Someone had brought her purse. Was it a man or a woman? “I know we got a drink.” She had a faint image of a packed bar, lots of laughter. A soaring feeling of happiness. “Well, lots of drinks.” Come on, think. Zero-in on the face of the person you’re talking to. “I’m too hungover to remember anything else. My brain feels soggy.”
“Where are you right now?”
She glanced at the crystal chandelier, twin vanity units, and matching standing bathtubs. “A very fancy hotel.”
“And what are you wearing?”
“Under this robe, I’m butt naked.”
A memory hit. She was storming away from Bex, unstable on her heels. He grabbed her arm, yanked her to him, and kissed her.
Excitement burst in her chest.
His arms had banded around her, his hands flat on her back, holding her tightly. He’d held her with a need so powerful it shook her even then, hungover in the shower stall of a hotel.
And that kiss. God. He’d been shaking. There’d been a moment when she’d pulled away—scared of what was happening—and they’d just stared into each other’s eyes. She’d wanted him so badly her body had gone hot and liquid.
When they’d kissed again, she’d burst into flames.
“Della?” Micky asked softly. “Are you okay?”
“I kissed him. Van.” Micky didn’t know about Bex.
“You—wait, so you married your boss?”
For one moment, she believed it was true. And it was the most glorious moment of her life.
But then she remembered. “No. It’s not him.” Because she’d slapped him.
She’d slapped Bex right there in the middle of a fancy bar at the Bellagio.
And then, she’d stormed out.
“I left him. And I don’t remember anything after that.”
“Okay, first things first. You need to get your clothes and get out of there. Meanwhile, I’m going to grab my laptop. Because if one party can file for an annulment in Vegas, then this is all just one bad night.”
“Yeah, okay. I feel like a bus plowed over me, but I’m awake now.” She got up. “I’ll get my stuff.” And stepped out of the stall.
