The sun beats down on my shoulders and I'm certain I'm going to burn, but there's nothing I can do except listen to his story and try to find a way to get inside as soon as possible.

"So, you came here for a bachelor party? That explains the Bond uniforms, then."

"Bond?"

"Yeah, James Bond. You know?" I mock the James Bond movie poster pose, but he doesn't even look at me.

"I know who Bond is. But why are you saying I was wearing his uniform?" He barely gets the words out before he realizes what I meant. "Oh, my God I didn't even realize. That's just like Josh to do that on purpose, too. So many of the pictures make sense now."

"Glad to be of service."

"So we were in the casino and my one friend was spending my money on slots, which is whatever, I didn't really want to play anyway and I left my cards in the room."

"Know how to protect yourself from predatory casinos?" I inquire, looking for any hint of something in his eye.

"You teach statistics long enough it sort of takes the fun out of the concept of gambling." He shrugs. "Well, anyway, apparently we got our drinks mixed up and I had a rum and coke which was pretty disgusting, but it's whatever again. Except given how little I could taste the cola, I'm pretty sure it was like a triple shot or something."

"Mistakes happen, right?"

"Well, I don't think it was a mistake that he ordered that, and I'm choosing to believe it was a mistake he gave it to me. Because if he gave me that disgusting thing on purpose I'm not sure we can stay friends. But yeah, after that the next thing I remember is waking up in my hotel room with, well, you were there."

"One drink did you in?"

"Not usually a drinker, so maybe? My friends say I had a few more after that but I'm really not sure. I just know I woke up and you were yelling at me and going on about how your friends should have hired a better actor."

"So you don't remember anything either?"

He shakes his head, looking down at the sidewalk. He can't possibly be telling the truth, but it seems like he is. And there's no way I'm getting anything else out of him right now anyway. "Well, that's the pits. How'd you figure everything out?"

"Your number was in my phone under an indecipherable string of emojis. And there were a lot of pictures. Like, so many pictures. Who the heck took those pictures?"

I never even thought to ask that. "I don't know, really. Did we take people with us? You're supposed to have witnesses when you get married, right?"

He shrugs. "I couldn't figure it out. I was hoping you might know, but it seems like it might remain a mystery. Unless we can figure it out together."

"Well, it couldn't have been my friends. They were all so shocked to see my ring and thought for sure it was fake because it's so huge and sparkly." And then I put together the giant rock in my purse with the fact that he's living off a teacher's salary, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to face him. "Oh, my God, do you want that back? That must have been more than your savings."

"Wow. Not even married three days and my wife's already trying to give back the ring. I really must have done a crappy job picking it out."

"It's not that, I just don't want to bankrupt you on a drunken wedding. Or any wedding, really. It's not worth losing your house over a shiny ring, no matter how long you've known a person."

"You won't bankrupt me. I'm fine. Keep the ring. You know, so it looks real." His eyes are playful, but I push down my inclination of what he could mean and keep walking.

I'm having trouble placing him right now, flipping from serious to playful on what seems like a whim. "I'll keep it for now. But the topic isn't closed."

"I haven't known you very long and I already know you well enough to confidently say that no topic is ever closed, is it?"

"No. Not really." I shrug. "So you were telling me about being a teacher. And how one rum and coke apparently sent you under the table. So we know you aren't an expert alcohol-drinker either."

He laughs. "I'm not usually, no. Kind of a long story. Please tell me I'm not going to need to drink for this wedding."

"I think we've both done enough drinking for the whole trip," I laugh. "I mean, you can if you want to, but it's not exactly a rule. Maybe the champagne if there's toasts."

"Maybe we can at least remember this wedding, right?" He pauses very briefly before shifting the topic. "So, tell me about your friend. I forgot her name, I'm sorry."

"Divya." I wait for him to nod before continuing. "She's been my friend since I can remember. Her parents moved in next door when we were kids and we used to play all the time when my mom would work. Her mom stayed home and cooked a lot of food I'd never had before. I still go over there for samosas sometimes."

"She's close with her family, then?"

"She is, but it's difficult sometimes. Her family was hoping she would have a more traditional wedding than she and Raj want. I think they'll come around, but it's a little complicated. I had to make her promise to call them."

"How'd you convince her to do that?"

"I promised to call you." I laugh before realizing I've said too much, but he takes the whole thing in stride.

"A true broker of peace my wife is."

We wait for a car to pass before crossing the street and sliding through the air conditioned door of an ice cream shop. Finally the feeling of burnt lobster begins to leave me. I am not built for these scorching climates. I'm built for rain. Or snow.

"Is it as strange for you to hear 'my wife' as it is for me to say it?" Enrique asks, interrupting my thoughts.

"Probably more so. I was starting to think I'd never get married. And I was okay with it, I thought. But now here I am." I wave my hand around as though showing off the ring that is currently buried in my purse. "I guess I should put the ring on if I want that motion to have any effect. Or if I want people to believe we're married."

"Could I see it again?"

The shop is mostly empty, but the elderly couple in the corner is watching us from over their chocolate milkshakes.

"Yes, you could see it again," I say, reaching into my purse and unzipping the small pocket that has been keeping the ring safe since I got it off my finger. "It's really lovely. You did a good job. I mean, if you bought it. We didn't steal the ring, did we?" I don't know why my brain jumps there, but it's a little unnerving that neither of us remember how we came into possession of the extremely expensive piece of jewellery.

"No, we didn't steal it. You think I didn't check my bank information to figure out if the whole wedding thing was real? That's the second thing I checked!"

"What's the first thing?" I ask, handing him the ring.

"The first thing was..." He clears his throat and lowers his voice, leaning in so closely I can feel his breath on my neck but can still barely hear the rest of his sentence. "The first thing was to make sure I was still wearing pants."

The laugh that escapes me is vulgar and loud, drawing the attention to the two employees who had been in the middle of a heated debate over whether the mint chocolate chip was low enough to warrant replacing. I try to cover it with a cough, and everyone in the shop pretends to accept that, but we all know that's not what happened, and the blush creeping into my face is proof.

Reaching up, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear that was already tucked behind my ear. "Sorry," I laugh to try to lighten the mood. "It's funny because it's the same thing I thought when I woke up in your room. If it's any consolation, I don't think anything funny happened. If you discount the fact that we got married, I mean."

"Could I?" He holds out the ring like I'm supposed to know what that means.

"Could you what? Buy me more food? I won't say no."

Clearly I've said the wrong thing, because he rests his face in his hands. "Could I put the ring on your hand?" He asks the whole question this time and I have no answer.

"Is that something people do?"

He nods. "Who knows if I'll ever get another chance at it. And I've always wanted to do the whole thing, you know? Kneel down and offer the girl the ring."

"Save it for somewhere more romantic, then," I reason. "I mean, we're going to like six cool places for pre-wedding festivities. I'm sure my friends would actually die to see 'my hot husband' propose to me."

"I'm your hot husband?" he asks.

"Yes, that was the important part of what I said."

"I'm your hot husband." He repeats it with a smile and pockets the ring, stepping up to the counter and ordering some ice cream before asking me if I want anything. I cannot believe he just pocketed my ring!

My ring. 

♤ ♥ ♤

Author's Note: Well, then. Bianca learns a little bit about how her husband became her husband and they're both as confused as ever. Hopefully they can figure some things out in the coming chapters. Convincing people they're married is going to be a little tricky if they don't intend to walk around with the marriage certificate around their necks... they can't do that, right? 

I'll be back with the next chapter next week! 

While you're waiting... zoe_grimm 's Out of Order starts with a hilarious premise and it only goes up from there... until it doesn't. The elevator, I mean. Because it gets stuck and then things for the characters get a little... well, why don't you go read it?

When Logan Corbett shows up late to work over a forgotten power cord, he fears his career is done for.

But when he shares an elevator ride with his new boss, Callum Dawson, also heading to the meeting late, Logan wonders what other secrets lie under his mysterious and standoffish boss.