Quickie

“Oh, right.” I give him the address of my apartment on the Eastside, and off we go. The familiar skyline of New York passes me by as we drive from Queens to Manhattan, and the comfort of being home lulls me. I doze on and off as we drive, only coming back fully awake when Simon stops driving in front of my apartment building.

Simon opens the door for me, my suitcase already in his hand. I don’t argue as he carries it up the three flights of stairs and wishes me a good night. I think I say good night to him, but I’m so tired that it probably doesn’t sound like English. I can barely keep my eyes open. The events of the past day have taken it out of me completely, and I can barely find the strength to take off my shoes as I flop down onto the bed and slip peacefully into darkness.

The ringing of my phone wakes me the next morning. I sit straight up, confused for a second about where I am. I’m in my apartment, still in the Marchesa sundress, which is probably ruined from me passing out in it. My phone is ringing from the other room, still in my purse where I dropped it last night. I retrieve it just as it stops ringing. I have enough time to see that it’s a call from my mother before the battery goes dead. Not surprising, considering the past couple of days. I grab my charger and return to my bedroom, booting up my laptop on my desk while I plug the phone in.

My ring catches my eye while I wake up the computer, and I hold out my hand to examine it. I didn’t really want to seem preoccupied with it while Will was around, but it really is gorgeous, and it does look exactly like something I would pick out if given the choice. One diamond in the swirl of other, smaller diamonds for an ethereal and non-traditional look.

Well, now that I have some time to myself, it’s time to do some research on my brand new husband. I pop open the search engine and enter his name. Wilcox Herrington. Thank god I can call him Will. Also, thankfully, there aren’t any news stories about our Vegas marriage. If my family had found out through the news I think I would be disowned.

Everything else is just like he told me. The newly minted CEO of Emerald Enterprises, taking over from his father. One younger sister, mother deceased. There aren’t many personal details, he hasn’t done many interviews, and the ones I find are mainly about the business. But in everyone he has that same charisma that I’ve seen in him. There aren’t any news stories about scandals or tabloid photos of him with women. All in all, it seems too good to be true.

My stomach growls and I grab a bowl of cereal from the kitchen. I haven’t heard from him since last night, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing. This morning I know for sure that Will is right. There is something between us. I feel a pull toward him that I can’t explain him, and I miss him even though we’ve barely been apart, or even together.

The phone pulls enough battery to turn on, and the chime of a voicemail sounds immediately. It’s my mother, telling me to call her right away. I’m in the process of calling her back when the phone rings in my hand. Not shockingly, it’s her.

“Hey, Mom.”

She doesn’t sound pleased. “Why didn’t you answer before? I left you a couple of messages.”

“Sorry,” I say through a bite of cereal. “My phone died. It just came back on.”

“You know what I’ve said about keeping your phone charged.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I just fell asleep last night without plugging it in.”

“Well, all right. How are you holding up?”

“Surprisingly okay,” I say. I married one of the richest men in the world while I was blackout drunk, and he doesn’t want an annulment, oh, and he’s scorchingly hot. It’s tempting to tell her just to see how she would react. “The girls and I had a really good time, and I think it was a good idea that we went. To…you know, get my mind off of things.”

“So you’re back in the city?”

“Yes.” I’m wary now. My mother rarely asks where I am unless she has somewhere she wants me to be, and the tone in her voice tells me that she’s about to ask for something.

“I was wondering if you could come out to the island this afternoon to help with the party?”

I shake my head, trying to remember if I was told about a party or if that’s another thing that was swallowed up by my night of drunken madness. “What party?” My mother is silent, and my stomach drops. It’s not a good silence. “Mom, what party?”