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Iwoke up in stages, by painful degrees.
First came a soupy awareness of pain, the start of a headache pulsing behind my eyes. I wriggled away from it, chasing my dream.
Next came light, sound, a dim sense ofmorning. Sun through the curtains. Birdsong below. I groped for my pillow and pulled it over my face. My guts rumbled unhappily, and I swallowed back bile.
That was when I heard a low, ragged sigh. My first murky thought was, it was my stomach. Then I heard “shit,” and my cobwebs blew loose. I sat up fast, my watch banging against the headboard. The sound startled Lacey, and she bolted up with a shriek.
“What are you doing? Get out of my bed!”
“Sorry, shit, sorry. I didn’t know—” I staggered upright and blundered away, pinballing off the bedside table. From there, I slammed into the edge of the dresser, sending a sharp bolt of pain straight through my hip. I made it as far as the door, then it hit me.
“Wait a minute. Lacey?”
She grunted.
“This is my room. See, there’s my suitcase, and my phone on the—”
“Oh my God,Eric.” Lacey threw off the covers. She patted herself down, her torso, her hips, and tugged her skirt down to cover her thighs. When she looked up, her eyes were wide, stricken. “My God, did we…?
I peered down at myself, hung over and bleary. My pants were still on, and my shirt and my jacket.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Unless we dressed again after. Which, given the state of us, I can’t see that happening.”
Lacey hunched over and hugged her knees to her chest. “Ugh, I don’t feel good. How much did we drink?”
“Don’t know, let me check. Should be on our bar bill.” I fumbled my phone awake and searched for my bank app, but a text alert popped up and got in my way. When I swiped it aside, two more took its place. I squinted to read them, and my knees turned to rubber. The room spun around me, and I clutched at the dresser. I had to be dreaming, or it was a joke. Me and Lacey, no way. We wouldn’t. Wecouldn’t. They didn’t just let you—
“Eric? What’s wrong?”
I made a strangled sound. “Uh, nothing. Nothing.”
“Then why are you— oh, hold on. That’s my phone buzzing.” Before I could stop her, Lacey scooped up her phone. I watched as all the blood drained from her face, then rushed back scarlet, an all-over flush. Her jaw dropped, her cheek twitched, and she let out a squeak.
“We’re… we’re married? God, that’s my mom.” She tapped on her phone screen. “Mom? Mom, don’t cry. It’s not real. It’s gossip. Mom. Mom.Mom!”
I could hear her mom shrieking through the tinny phone speaker, no words I could pick out, just dismayed cries.
“We can’t be married,” I said. “You can’t do it that fast. There’s paperwork, blood tests…”
Her mom squawked. “Is that him?”
Lacey squinched her eyes shut. “Yeah, Mom, but listen. None of it’s real. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m going to find out, and youknowI’d invite you if I really got married. You’d be front and center, my matron of honor.”
“Damn right I would. Go tell themthat. Tell them none of it counted without your mom present.”
“I’ll tell them,” said Lacey. “Talk later, okay?”
Her mom was still talking, but Lacey hung up. She stared at her phone screen, her lips a tight line.
“Is that right about blood tests? Needing a license?”
“Yeah. I don’t know. Hold on a sec.” I was gaping at my own screen, at a TikTok clip, a JUST MARRIED limo pulling up to the Seaview, cans rattling behind it, rosettes on the roof. I half-tumbled out of it, then turned to help Lacey. She spun into my arms, radiant. Beaming. Her hair caught the moonlight, a silvery halo.
“Mrs. Harper,” I said.
“Mr. Harper.” She giggled.
I leaned in and kissed her on her forehead. Red heart emojis bubbled all around us. The clip looped back to the start, and I swiped it away.
