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“Right, a piece of paper or something.”
I crawl to the end of the bed, gingerly standing up. I’m wobbly, holding onto the wall as I make my way over to grab my purse. My head is pounding and I want nothing more than to crawl back in bed and sleep off this hangover.
We need to figure out what happened last night, though.
“Ugh, I haven’t had nearly enough coffee,” I grumble as I dump my purse out on the dresser.
Alexander is still standing by the bed, his eyes locked on the ring on his finger. The look on his face catches me off guard.
I’d figured that he would be freaking out, angry, panicked, demanding to know how this could have happened. Instead, he’s almost calm.
He must still be drunk.
I don’t see any papers in my bag, just my wallet, some lip balm, a package of peanut butter M&M’s, and some receipts.
“No marriage certificate or whatever it’s called.”
I flip through the receipts as Alexander finally joins me.
“But I can tell you where we were last night.”
I pass him the receipts and watch as he scans them.
“They’re all from the same stretch on the strip, so we must have gotten married around there.”
He nods then winces and I giggle, then wince.
“We can retrace our steps,” he whispers.
“Yeah, but first I need a shower and another two pots of coffee.”
“I’ll order the coffee. You shower first.”
I stumble toward the bathroom, snagging my coffee cup off the bedside table as I pass.
I crank the water as hot as it will go and slowly strip, sighing as I step beneath the water. I’m sure that I stand under the water for way too long, but surprisingly, Alexander doesn’t yell through the door telling me to hurry up.
He must have fallen back asleep.
Lucky.
It isn’t until I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself that I realize I didn’t bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with me.
I stare at the pile of clothes from last night, but I’d rather walk out in a towel than put the same dirty outfit back on.
I tighten the towel and open the door, stepping out with the steam right as Alexander starts to walk back into the bedroom.
He runs into the wall instead.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” I ask, rushing over to him as he rubs his head.
“Yeah. Coffee is here,” he says, pushing past me in a hurry and rushing into the bathroom.
He slams the door shut and I stare after him, wondering what his problem is. The scent of coffee is calling my name, though, so I try to forget about my cranky boss and head out into the living room to grab another cup.
I down it quickly and pour another before I head back into the bedroom and hurry to get dressed. I pull on a white dress before I look down and change my mind. The only other clean clothes I have are a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a black, flowy tank top.
I groan, pulling the jeans up and have to pause to down the last of my coffee before I button them and finish getting dressed.
