My eyes flutter open for the second time in as many hours.

"I sure picked a good day to get drunk," I say to the air.

Carla surprises me by replying. "You really did not. Divya has been beside herself all day worrying about what happened to you. One minute you were with us and the next second you were gone and any attempt to call you just went to voicemail. We really were about to call the police when you fell through the door."

"What happened?"

"They say you were dehydrated. Probably from the alcohol and then walking too far in the heat."

"I didn't even walk that far."

"Your friend said you came from The Golden Sphinx Hotel and Casino. That's like a twenty minute walk, Bianca."

"Is not."

"Look, only one of us is hungover, B. And it is."

"How are you not hungover?"

"Water, friend. Try some."

I press the clear glass of room temperature water into my lips, liquid relieving my parched tongue and throat.

"What happened to the ring I had on?"

"That piece of costume jewellery?" She scoffs. "I put it in your purse for you."

"It's not costume jewellery. I know diamonds, Carla, and it's real. Whoever's ring it is, I need to find them. I need to give it back to them." An attempt to sit up just makes the room spin again, but at least this time it is less than it was before. "I can't keep it, Carla. It's way to expensive. I need to figure out what happened."

"Whoa, there, cowgirl. We have to get some food in you first. And more water. Doctor's orders."

"Fine. Food and water. A quick apology to Divya and then we figure this out."

"Yeah, of course." But she won't look me in the eye. "Except, well, Divya might have something to tell you first."

What does she know that she's not telling me?

I don't get the chance to ask her before she shoves a plate of food in front of me and drops my freshly charged phone into my lap. "I have to go for a minute and make sure everyone knows you're okay, alright? The call button on the ancient phone here will connect you to reception if you need anything. Please stay sitting down until I get back. I don't want to have to call any more doctors for you today."

I mimic marking an x across my chest just above my heart. "Promise."

"Good. I'll be right back. Eat."

The toast she gave me is dry, but I don't have the energy to open the butter sitting beside me or spread the jam across the darkened bread. Somehow, it is soggy and burnt at the same time.

This is my penance for getting drunk. It must be.

Somewhere in the middle of my sour orange, my phone lights up with a notification. The prospect of eating the solid oatmeal sitting in front of me is the opposite of appetizing, so I take the risk and flip my phone over to see the notification.

Which turns out to be several notifications. First, a reminder that my ex is getting married to a freaking supermodel. And second, some pictures from our drunken night last night.

Divya looks really happy, though, so I guess it's all that matters.

Flipping through the pictures, I can relive the part of the evening I remember, complete with my quick dress change in the middle of the evening.

And that's when it gets blurry.

Me and the girls dancing to the Dolly Parton impersonator. She's rocking it.

A hot guy someone must have hired to strip for Divya in our hotel room.

Flipping through the pictures has me even more confused. If we were in our hotel room, how the hell did I get to Enrique's room?

My phone camera beckons like a shooting star. It might have the answers social media does not. Hopefully.

My phone is playing dirty tricks, refusing to open the app until I consume another bite of my delicious toast.

When it finally opens, I almost choke on the offending breakfast.

No way.

The room grows hot and the ring burns a hole in my purse.

It's me. It's me in a veil next to Enrique. Both of us holding a shot glass dressed in wedding gear.

But there's no way we actually got married, right? This must be some kind of a joke or a coincidence. Maybe we went to a wedding themed bar.

In the end we just drank too much and fell into the same hotel room. I woke up fully clothed. I'm sure it's fine. It's just a coincidence I have a diamond the size of Texas in my purse.

The pit in my stomach isn't from the disgusting food or the dehydration. It's from the growing realization that there is no alternative. And the final pictures confirm it.

Us, hair all askew, signing our names on the line.

I got drunkenly married in Vegas?

There is no way I, Bianca Daleman, would ever get drunkenly married in Vegas.

I couldn't stand up even if I wanted to. The heat of the desert sun beats down through the air conditioned hotel, reaching me even in my secluded room. All attempts to slow my breathing are thwarted as I scroll through my phone. His number. His face. Our wedding.

This can't be legal, right? We didn't get married on a dare. There is no way I got drunkenly married in Vegas. It just isn't possible.

Except it is possible. Because I did.

I got drunkenly married in Vegas. There has to be a way out of this, right?

My panic attack is interrupted by the door bursting open to reveal Carla, Lorena, and Divya stumbling into the room.

"Oh my gosh we thought we'd lost you," Lorena coos, rushing to my side and kissing my forehead. "I seriously thought you were going to die."

"You did not," Divya says, turning to me. "Well, maybe she did. But it's only because she worries too much."

"I worry just enough, thank you. Who saved you from that stripper?"

"What?" I sit up, and this time the room only spins a little. I quiet my tired brain with a sip of water. "What happened with the stripper?"

This is why I don't drink. You miss too much.

"Oh my gosh, B. It was hilarious, so—"

"Lorena, we aren't here to talk about strippers. When I find out who sent them, I will kill them. But until then..." She takes a deep breath and sits down beside me.

All eyes are on me and the intensity of the stares start to boil the air. "Is this an intervention or something? I only got drunk once. I have no desire to do it again." The pounding in my head rebounds through my whole body, reminding me why.

"No. No it's not that. It's just..." Divya holds out her hand, letting her ring catch the unnatural light in the room. "I'm getting married."

"This is not news, Divya. We're here for your bachelorette party."

"No, I mean..." She sighs.

"She means she's getting married. Here. This weekend." Lorena cuts in. "Can you believe it?"

"Oh. That's awesome! Where are you getting married? Wait! We didn't even get you a dress yet!"

"Well, that's why I'm here. I was kind of hoping you girls would all come with me today to pick the dress out. And something for all of you, of course."

"Oh my goodness! Yes! What are we waiting for?"

"Bianca. We're waiting for you to be able to stand up without falling down."

"Right. Water?"

Their laughs fill the room and all I can think is at least this will let me forget the giant ring in my purse for a while. Pushing off the problem won't make it any worse, at least. 

~*~ Author's Note ~*~

Hey everyone! I'm having such a fun time writing these stories, and I've been reading some other amazing novellas that I'd love to share with you since I know how hard it is to find stories sometimes. The next chapter of Vegas Knot should be out by the end of the weekend :)

Loving the romance and humor? You'll want to check out Never Not Yours by amaro_valentin .

On the threshold of being forced to marry a woman he has never met, an overly-compliant viscount elopes with his charming yet poor fiancée; but when the road to marriage gets bumpy, he needs to be honest about what he truly wants in life before the woman he loves walks away forever.

ALSO! Why not check out the story I'm cowriting with you incomparable Amaro over on Camila_Ferrera , Telltale Tango.

Giselle Landry shows up to her first date in years, expecting to have a lovely dinner with the tall, dark and handsome man she’s been talking to online for months. Hunger overtakes embarrassment because a girl’s gotta eat. So, Giselle pulls up a stool at the bar to grab a bite and immediately strikes up a conversation with the handsome bartender, Feliciano Arias.But Giselle can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t really know the man behind the tattoos.