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“My dad decides a lot more than my travel schedule,” I reply.
She nods.
“How much of last night do you remember?”
“After the High Roller, not much.”
“We went on the High Roller?”
Hannah studies me. “How much doyouremember?”
“Not much.” I clear my throat, glancing at the clothes scattered on the floor and then back at her. “Did we have sex?”
“I don’t think so.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Based on what?”
“Based on the size of your dick. There would be… aftereffects. I’m not sore.”
I smile as soon as she saysaftereffects. “You looked.”
“You stared at my boobs for several minutes, so I think we’re even.”
“They’re great boobs.”
“Thanks. I grew them myself.”
If anyone had told me I’d be on the floor laughing after discovering I’d married a stranger who’s been with my brother, my response would have been,You’re insane. But here I am, doing exactly that.
Hannah stands. “I have to go, or I’m going to miss my flight.”
I stand too, wincing when my head protests the movement. “You can’tleave. We have to—”
“I’m well aware we’re in a fucking mess, Oliver,” she says, picking her phone up. “But I have to go. I have to be back in LA by tonight. We’ll both need to hire attorneys and figure out how to get divorced or an annulment or just light that thing on fire and pretend this never happened.”
“Fine.” She’s right. There’s nothing we can do to fix this imminently. “Give me your number.”
Hannah rubs a palm across her face. “I don’t know it.”
“What? How do you not know your phone number?”
“I just got a new phone, and the company screwed it up and gave me a new number too and I suck at memorizing…” She exhales. “It doesn’t matter. Just give me your number and I’ll call you.”
I hold a hand out for her phone, and she waves the black screen in my face. “My phone isdead. Write your number on something.” I glance at the piece of paper I’m still holding. “You can’t write your number on that!”
“I don’t have anything else!” There’s a pen with the hotel logo on the desk next to the couch, but no pad of paper.
I find my pants on the floor and pull my wallet out, hoping to find a receipt.
A playing card advertising a magician falls out. As soon as I see it flutter to the floor, I remember attending the show last night. Hopefully the rest of my memories aren’t far behind. I hate being caught off guard, and that’s basically all that’s happened this morning.
I grab the playing card and scribble my number on it, then hold it out to Hannah. “Seriously?” she asks.
“It’s that or the marriage certificate.”
She rolls her eyes and takes the card. “I’ll call you on Monday.”
“Okay.” I feel awkward all of a sudden. Waking up with a woman is a strange experience in itself. Discovering I’m also legally linked to her isn’t simplifying anything.
