Page 54 of Bound To Be Mine

“Diet Coke,” Mandy added.

The waitress didn’t look happy as she walked away.

“So,” Mandy said, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward slightly. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“About how we ended up here.” She gestured around the bar.

“Well, considering neither of us rented a car, it’s safe to say we didn’t drive.”

“No, I mean here. In this situation.”

“Me either. I hate that it’s a blank spot. Feels like a night I should have some memory of.”

“I don’t know whose idea the wedding was, and we probably never will,” she went on. “But something happened that night. Something that made two people who’d been snapping at each other all day decide to get married by the end of it.”

“Tequila,” I said. “Tequila happened. I imagine a lot of it.”

“I’ve been thinking. Why not retrace our steps? Find out what we were doing before the wheels came all the way off. See if any of it still applies when we’re sober.”

I looked at her. “You want to recreate our wedding night.”

“I want to understand it. There’s a difference.” She paused. “And honestly? If we’re going to convince people this is real, we should probably have some kind of actual foundation to work with. Right now we have a wedding neither of us attended mentally.”

She wasn’t wrong. I hated that she wasn’t wrong.

“How do you know it will work?”

“I don’t, but do you have any other ideas?”

I looked away from her briefly. Across the bar, someone was beginning an extremely confident rendition of a Bon Jovi song. I watched for a moment, then looked back at her.

“Wait, I know what you’re doing,” I said.

“What am I doing?”

“You expect me to get up there and humiliate myself again.”

“I don’t expect anything,” she said. “I’m just suggesting we retrace our steps.”

“I’ve only done karaoke drunk,” I said. “And I’m laying off the booze for a while. Possibly forever.” I looked at the stage and then back at her. “I’m not getting up there. Ever.”

She grinned. “I’ve already saved that video in case you work some Blackwell magic and try to make it disappear.”

“You and my brothers,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“You don’t have to sing. I have spent the day investigating. It feels like I’ve been on a treasure hunt. I think I found something.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me I jumped in the Bellagio fountain.”

“No.” She laughed. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t found video evidence of that—yet.” She pulled up another video and turned the phone toward me.

I didn’t recognize the setting at first. It wasn’t the bar. It was outdoors, nighttime, the bright glow of the Strip visible in the background but not immediately close.

Then I saw the horse.

And the carriage.