She straightened, pushing back her hair and giving up for the moment on retrieving the errant panties.
“Look, I’m sorry I reacted badly. We need to talk about this and what our options are,” she said in what she hoped was a friendly tone.
“There are no options. We’re married,” he said simply.
“Now, Brendan,” she began.
“Brandon,” he corrected.
“Right. Brandon. The thing is, I don’t want to be married.” Wait. Was she lying to him? She was kind of dreaming about it, but she didn’t think it’d actually happen for a few years. She always planned on a two year courtship. Not a two hour one!
He crossed his arms. “You don’t want to be married? Seriously?”
“You knew I was drunk.”
“So was I.”
“I don’t want to be married. Not to you or to anyone else. I’ll be happy to give you the ring back and tell the press and whoever that I was drunk. I’ll even claim I tricked you into it. I just can’t stay married to you because—because no. Absolutely not,” she said definitively.
There. That ought to give him the clear picture of what was going on.
“It was your idea,” he countered.
“Somehow I doubt that, but even if it was, it was a crappy idea and one we need to undo as fast as possible,” she said, “I have work on Monday which is like the day after tomorrow. Can we get a divorce or something on a Saturday or is it a business hours only scenario? Reno! Reno is famous for divorces!!! Let’s go to Reno!”
“I am not going to Reno,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“Hey, this is serious. Can I go to Reno alone and get the divorce? I need to find my phone and look it up. I have to get the number for the, like, Ministry of Quickie Divorces,” she said, scrambling for her clutch and finding her phone.
When she entered the passcode, she was faced with a picture of the two of them at a jewelry store, a diamond ring, a steamy kiss. It stopped her in her tracks. It was worth about nine thousand words right there. The people in that photo were happy. They were happy, and they were burning the place down with that kiss. She felt a tightening low in her belly, a tug of lust from the memory alone. A faint memory of being held, clutched desperately and with passion. She felt her cheeks flush.
“It’s a little fuzzy, but I remember being at a club with you. I remember saying I didn’t want to let the bitch win,” she admitted.
“That would be my stepmother. She just filed an injunction to prevent me from using the company jet in the run-up to her taking full control of the corporation. So we’ll have to wait for my plane to get to Vegas later on.”
Marj had to admit he looked so damn sexy in the buff. He had a thick neck, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, rippling muscles, lean waist, and a powerful chest. She blinked and tried to pull her gaze away from him.
“Can’t you just send her a Snapchat of the marriage license and you giving her the finger?” she asked.
“As much as I like that idea, I think it could set us back legally, with respect to making the marriage appear genuine.”
“Okay, look, I’ll wait till after your birthday to divorce you. Is that fair? I mean, as long as you’re married by your birthday, that satisfies the will, right?”
“No. Six months minimum, a year would be better,” he said.
“That’s a long time. Did I know that when I agreed to it?”
“It was your idea to get married and, yes, you realized the time frame involved,” he sighed. “Clearly when you’re sober you’re much less agreeable.”
“Aren’t we all? I—look, could you put on some clothes? A lot of them. Because I can’t really think or argue very well with you dressed like that. Undressed like that,” she stammered.
He shot her that sly grin. “Fair enough. But you have to go shopping and I have a meeting. Rafael will be here for you in, I expect, half an hour,” he said.
“Why am I shopping? I have rent to pay.”
“You have a public appearance when we deplane in Manhattan at the private airfield. We’ve both posted on social media about the wedding. That’s the idea,” he explained, “so you have to get some clothes. You said something about wanting to go to the Forum stores. I’m going to take a shower.” He shot me a sexy little grin. “Care to join me?”
“Get in the shower with a perfect stranger?”
“Husband,” he corrected.
“No, darling. I have a headache.”
“Boy, you were much more spontaneous and fun last night.” He sighed. Okay, I’m taking my shower now.”