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Fuck.How had I forgotten to take it off? Did Sophie see it? If she had, she would have said something.
“Okay, I’m ready.” Sophie hikes her tote bag onto her shoulder as she enters the room.
Piper’s doing some kind of calculation in her head. Her face moving through the stages of questioning to understanding as her brows lift and her jaw drops.
“Oh my God, Griffin, did you get married last night?”
* * *
After twenty minutes of questioning from Sophie, she and Piper finally got on their way to LA. Piper promised me she wouldn’t speed even though they were definitely going to be late for their three o’clock check-in time.
I’ve received ten text messages from Sophie since she left. Mostly all variations of questioning how her boring, predictably routine brother could have accidentally gotten married to a stranger last night.
Sophie:Were you drugged? Held at gunpoint? The details aren’t adding up. Text me our secret code if you need help. Also, were you going to tell me if Piper hadn’t seen your ring?
Griffin:I’m okay. No drugs or guns. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.
I exhale forcefully. The words are easier to type than to say.
Sophie:I could never be disappointed in you. You’re my hero. Even Superman had kryptonite to contend with.
As I read her text, Sophie’s words ease the tightness in my chest a little. And I have to smile at her use of the kryptonite analogy. It’s exactly what I thought about this morning when I woke up next to Emma. That the universe had found my Achilles’ heel; a spirited, extremely sexy, yet vulnerable woman that I couldn’t resist wanting to protect.
I need to talk to someone other than Sophie. A guy that can understand the situation. Someone who has ended up in a similar situation before.
I tap his name and the line rings twice before he picks up.
“So how does it feel?” Chad asks in lieu of a greeting.
“How did you find out?” I respond.
“Find out about what?” he asks.
I pause. “What are you talking about?”
“How it feels to be done with the revue. Your last night. How does it feel?”
“Oh, right. Good.”
“Kenny said you went out last night. That’s different.”
“It was the last night.”
“I’d say I’m sorry I missed it, but I haven’t missed Vegas clubs in years.”
Chad has been sober for three years, and while he attests that he can still have fun without drinking, like me, he prefers a quiet night in. Chad’s a few years older than me, and he’s seen and done everything you can imagine, including drunkenly marrying a woman after a club appearance five years ago. This makes him the perfect person to talk to about the situation with Emma.
“We went to Vibe,” I say.
“Not the worst place to go.”
“Emma, the woman that I did my hot seat dance for, was with us.”
“No kidding?” he asks.
“Dallas was pursuing her hard and I wanted to watch out for her.”
“I don’t condone violence, but please tell me this story ends with you punching Dallas in the face. His black eye will heal in a few weeks, but the legend of you knocking him out will live on forever.”
