Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(24)

My hopes are all on the shoulders of this woman with the pale pink lipstick and giant Dolly hair.

“Did you get your certificate?”

I pull out the one from my wallet and show her.

“That’s it. All you had to do was obtain the marriage license and sign it. We file all the paperwork.”

“Everything is done, then?” I clarify. It’s what Tripp said happened, but it still punches me in the gut. Because this is the one thing I was sure of. If we didn’t file, we weren’t married.

“You should be able to look it up on the register, but there’s nothing further for you to take care of.”

“Thank you,” Tripp says quickly. “Come on, husband.”

I hold my panic in until we get back at the car. “I’ll fix it.”

“Would you stop saying that?”

“But I will. Oskar’s right—I’m a dumbass, and I never should have made you do this.”

“You didn’t—”

“Leave it up to me.” I don’t need him to tell me this isn’t my fault when I’m the one who came up with the idea. “You won’t have to do anything. I’ll drop you home, and we’ll both do whatever we need to in order to stay in Vegas, and then when we get the okay, I’ll do the paperwork and you’ll be free of me.”

“Did I say I wanted to be free of you?”

“Free of this marriage. It was a mistake, but we’ll put it behind us, and everything will go back to normal.”

“Everything?”

“We’ll be making ex-husband jokes before you know it.” My voice goes its squeakiest yet, but I force myself to give him an easygoing smile. “See? We’ve got this.”





Ten





TRIPP





We’ve got this, Dex said. He’s a liar. Unless by this he means a PR nightmare, an awkward friendship, and a clusterfuck of emotions I don’t want to deal with, then yes. We’ve totally got this.

Dex is adamant about setting things right, so even though he keeps telling me he’ll fix it, that I won’t be married to him for long, the constant reminder that us being husbands is ridiculous and needs to be “fixed” doesn’t sit right in my gut.

I never wanted to get married. Marriage, to me—and to Dex—has never meant anything. But there’s something in the way he says it that’s like nails on a chalkboard.

I could never be married to you.

I don’t want you.

He has never said those words, but when I hear, “This was a huge mistake,” I can’t help but take it that way.

My head knows it’s because he’s straight, but my heart likes to pretend logic doesn’t exist.

We’re not supposed to go out or draw attention to ourselves, but Dex is not himself. He’s kind of avoiding me, and I get the impression it’s because he feels guilty about the marriage being real. He wouldn’t let me take any of the blame, so now we’re in this weird place where we’re supposed to lie low, but he isn’t staying at my place or wanting to even see me. He claims he’s busy finding out how to get an annulment.

I don’t know what’s worse. Spending time with Dex and drowning in unrequited feelings or not seeing him at all. And this was my point to the other guys in the Collective.

I’m bored without Dex. And lonely. And this is why I’ve never told him about my feelings. Because it will drive him away. I have plenty of friends I can hang out with, but it’s different with him. No matter how many people are around, without him, that loneliness is constant.

Normally, when Dex stuff is getting me down, I go out and hook up, but I can’t do that. Not when I’m married. If it gets out and there’re photos of me and some guy or he speaks out saying he was with me, that will be even worse for PR.

When the buzzer for the building sounds, I run to my monitor, hoping it’s Dex coming to see me.

I’m mildly disappointed when I see Dex’s and my sisters on the screen, but I could do with the distraction. I let them in and then go to my front door, waiting for them to arrive on the elevator.

In our family, I got the recessive red hair gene from our Scottish ancestors from way back when. My sister, Sienna, has strawberry blonde hair, and Phoebe’s blonde hair is a shade lighter than Dex’s.

Our sisters look more related than Dex or I do to either of them. They even have matching sympathetic stares when the elevator doors open and they catch sight of me.

“My brother is an idiot.” Phoebe’s welcoming words make me laugh.

“No, he’s not.” I step aside to let them in.

Sienna hugs me on her way past. “Are you okay?”

I glance at Phoebe. “He told you we got married, didn’t he?”

Phoebe gasps. “You whaaaat?”

“I don’t believe your fake shock for a second.”

“Okay, fine. He did. And then I told Sienna. And that’s why we’re here.”

“To offer some really helpful advice and shower me with sisterly love? I mean, technically, Phoebs, you’re my sister now too.”

They both step toward me, those pitiful looks still across their faces. As they get closer, I anticipate a group hug, but instead, they both slap me upside the head like Oskar and Ezra did on vacation.