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Which is exactly what I should’ve told Thomas this morning.
Fuck off, Thomas. Go fuck yourself with your stuck-up, holier-than-thou, blue-blooded, one-percenter fortune that I want no part of.
But since I can’t say that to Thomas without fear of being fired, it would’ve been nice to at least check off ‘stand up to Kayla’ from my new to-do list that Leslie inspired me to start. A to-do list that will hopefully whittle down the problems piling up around me.
Like my bridesmaid dress that borders on pornographic. I tug my thin dress straps up for what feels like the bazillionth time, the cooling desert air on the balcony sending a chill down my deep-V neckline.
I should’ve asked to see the dress beforehand instead of opening the garment bag an hour before the wedding. Along with the sliver of hanging fabric was a note from Susan saying the dress will go perfectly with the sandals I chose. And if she meant they both have thin straps and show a lot of skin, then yes, they go together.
‘Alice.’
If it weren’t for the previously mentioned thin straps on both my shoes and dress, I would’ve jumped out of both of them at Thomas’s sudden appearance behind me.
‘Dear Lord.’ I press my hand over my exposed chest bone, my heart pounding just to the left of it. ‘Does that ridiculous tuxedo give you ninja stealth?’
Thomas glances down at his black tuxedo. Black, with a subtle blue sheen that when the light hits reveals the paisley pattern on the custom-cut silk. A blue sheen also set off by the blue suede shoes on his feet.
He should look like Liberace in mourning. Instead, he looks good enough to climb. Again.
My face catches fire remembering last night. Unhelpful.
When he looks back up, his uninjured brow is raised.
I tug my straps up. ‘What do you want?’
A weight settles in my stomach, remembering how he asked me the same thing just hours ago. I spent the hours before the wedding trying not to be sick whilst getting dolled up for the ceremony, and the two hours since it ended hiding from the deplorable Thomas Moore.
‘We can’t get an annulment.’
‘What?’ I think of all the romance novels I’ve read and movies I’ve seen. It all seemed so simple. Wake up married, get an annulment before lunch. ‘Is it because we slept together?’ I think I remember something about consummation being a sticking point. ‘Because I am fully prepared to lie under oath if needed. It’s not like I remember much anyway.’ See? I’m lying right now. Because I remember everything about the consummation.
But Thomas doesn’t need to know that. No one needs to know that. Not even the United States judicial system.
‘Let me clarify the previous statement.’ He peers down at me as he talks, back to his patronizing self. ‘We cannot get a quick annulment. According to my lawyer, these things take time. Paperwork.’ His lips purse slightly. ‘And a working knowledge of when and where the ceremony took place.’
‘Only in Vegas would they make it so easy to get drunk and married and so hard to get sober and divorced,’ I mutter, the rose-colored glasses I wore on my flight over here fully broken. Vegas, it would seem, is not my happy place.
‘Yes. That’s why I moved up my flight to tonight.’ His good eye narrows, his tone turning arctic. ‘I’m meeting with my lawyer tomorrow.’
My gut clenches. I would not want to be his lawyer.
Good, though. He’s leaving. I look over the balustrade at the crowd below swarming along the Strip. Maybe then I’ll be able to enjoy the small time left on my all-expenses paid vacation.
But the longer I look, the more the details blur. It grates on me, him moving up his flight during his brother’s wedding weekend. It highlights just how eager he is to dissolve our marriage. To get rid of me.
I turn back, glancing over his shoulders at the Lago’s balcony doors. ‘What about the reception?’
He follows my gaze. Once sectioned off to a private area of the restaurant, the wedding reception has now overtaken the entire establishment. Random hotel guests are now dancing with the wedding party – Bell and Chase quite happy to share their joy with strangers.
‘No one will miss me.’ He says it with his usual detached timbre, but I swear there’s something in his expression that belies his tone. But when I lean in, it’s gone with one painful-looking blink.
Must’ve been the neon light cast against his injured eye.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Kayla:
Talk when u home
