The Marriage Mistake Page 3

  I start to make my way towards the sound of her cries, stumbling every so often over the copious wreckage littering the floor.

  By the time I make my way to the main room, I’ve gotten a pretty good idea of the damage.

  What the fuck?

  The room is fucking trashed.

  There are empty bottles and cans everywhere. Bedding that is definitely not from this room is strewn across the furniture along with food containers and trash.

  I can’t even begin to imagine what we got up to last night. I don’t know what I even did—apart from, apparently, Lock Williams.

  It doesn’t help that every time I try to remember, the throbbing ache in my brain stops my thoughts in their tracks. The taste of tequila is bitter in the back of my mouth. Tastes fucking bad. Really, really bad.

  I burst into the bathroom riding a wave of nausea and regret.

  And there’s Percy, bare-ass naked and handcuffed to the bidet.

  The first time I met Percy, we were at the same house party, unknowingly making out with the same guy all night. Instead of getting mad at each other about it, we just dumped our drinks on the asshole’s misshapen potato head and got Taco Bell together instead.

  We roomed together for a lot of college. I taught Percy how to binge drink and Percy taught me how to wax my muff.

  As it turns out, a good wax might be the only thing that will help Percy’s pube situation now.

  “Percy,” I say, taking it all in. “Babe. What the fuck?”

  She’s laid out naked on the floor, her voluptuous body on full display. Her arms are raised above her head, and I follow them to find that her wrists are clasped firmly into the silver bracelets of a pair of handcuffs.

  How the fuck?

  And she’s right—her pubes are pink. In fact, everything, and I mean everything, is pink, from the hair on her head to the lady-beard between her legs. Even her armpits threaten to blind me with their unnatural, neon glow.

  “Do I even want to know?” I say, still at a fucking loss.

  “I was just asking myself the same thing,” she whimpers, shaking her wrists for emphasis, rattling the metal and bringing my focus back to the more pressing issue at hand. “The handcuffs though, Sams? Please?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Usually you can get yourself out of those.”

  Percy’s shoulders slump tiredly. “Too tight this time. I’m losing my touch!”

  I take a deep breath. “Sure. Right. Hang on.”

  I lean over her to closer inspect the handcuffs. Lucky for her, they’re your run-of-the-mill sex shop cuffs. Nothing too tricky.

  I’m about to ask if she’s seen the key when I hear a snort from behind me.

  I grimace, knowing Lock is at my back before I even turn to look.

  “Damn, Sammi,” he chuckles. “I haven’t seen you in such a compromising position since…well, last night.”

  I actually feel a growl rising up my throat.

  “Can you just help me find the damn key?”

  “Sure,” he says, sitting on the couch with a grin that says he’s only here to watch.

  “Lock!”

  “Okay, okay.” He sweeps his eyes over the room. “Is that it?”

  I look where he points and feel my cheeks flush.

  Naturally, I’m standing right next to it.

  I bite my tongue to hold in my response, choosing to unlock a restless, squirming Percy instead.

  “Finally!” she shouts as the second cuff comes undone. “I thought I was gonna be stuck there forever!”

  So dramatic.

  I grab a sheet that’s been draped over a nearby chair, wrapping it snugly around my own naked form.

  The disappointment on Lock’s face brings a smile to my own. He’s like a puppy I’ve just taken a treat away from.

  I hand a sheet to Percy as well before taking a deep breath and surveying the room again.

  There’s an ominous-looking puddle nearby that I definitely want to avoid.

  In the corner sits a pile of ping pong balls that look forebodingly sticky. Totally not touching those, either.

  All in all, it’s a total shit show—and this is just the main room.

  Suddenly, I hear movement from behind the door to Becky and Liam’s room.

  It’s… chittering?

  What in the actual fuck could possibly be making that noise? Did we let a fucking animal in the hotel room? I’m scared to even discover the source.

  I really wasn’t expecting pink pubes before my Wheaties, but I was blessed with that sight anyway. What could be more outlandish?

  I cross the room and cautiously open the door.

  Becky and Liam are both naked, bodies twisted into various uncomfortable-looking positions on the bed. They look like a couple of dirty contortionists who fell asleep during an act.

  Spread out on the comforter beneath them has to be something like a million dollars—or at least, a million Thai baht.

  But that’s not what I’m stuck on. Jumping up and down on Becky’s naked ass is a fucking monkey.

  Yep. A monkey. A tiny, vest-wearing monkey at that.

  He’s absolutely adorable, and I can’t help myself.

  “Awww…”

  The monkey stops mid-celebration, turning to meet my eyes.

  He stares for a single second before bringing his attention to Liam’s pile of clothes in front of him. He madly stuffs something into his tiny monkey vest.

  “What do you have there?” I ask in my sweetest voice, walking around the bed as I do.

  He chitters back, still stuffing away.

  I round the bed, stupidly making little clucking sounds in my mouth.

  What attracts monkeys?

  When I see what he has, though, all I can do is gape.

  Sitting on the floor by the bed is even more money!

  And this little asshole is stuffing bills into his vest.

  “Hey, monkey!” I yell, reaching for him. “Stop it!”

  He grabs one more bill before making a run for it. I chase, thumping all across the room before he climbs up the closet door, turning and perching to watch us. An evil little smile sprouts up on his face.

  That little thief.

  Becky and Liam stir in the commotion. Tangled limbs pull free as they sit up, looking around in confusion.

  “Sammi?” Becky croaks.

  “Where’d all this come from?” I ask, balling a fist of money up to wave at them.

  They exchange confused looks, Liam’s shrug serving as my only answer.

  Great.

  I turn to leave, but instead slam face-first into Lock’s chiseled chest.

  I glare at the Australian flag looking back at me, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Could you fucking move?”

  He chuckles at me in response. I fucking hate his sexy laugh.

  “Sorry,” he says, not looking sorry at all, “I just thought after last night, you wouldn’t mind being close to me.”

  Again with last night.

  I push roughly past him, banging my shoulder on the doorway as I do. I’ve had enough of his fucking comments about the night he remembers that I don’t.

  “Come on, Sammi,” he coos. “You couldn’t possibly have forgotten everything about last night.”

  I don’t even grace him with a response.

  He’s right on my heels as I march across the hotel room/ “I guess it’s okay if you did,” he persists. “I can always remind you.”

  I stop abruptly, feeling him collide into my back as I do.

  Whipping around, I point in the general direction of the exit.

  “Out.” I say, teeth gritted.

  “Aw, come on!”

  I stretch my arm further, trying to make my point…pointier.

  “OUT!”

  “But I’m naked!” He groans, hands waving over his body to accentuate his state.

  I don’t even blink, staring hard into his green eyes in a way that, I hope, brooks no further argument.

/>   Finally, he drops his gaze, growling as he heads for the door.

  I try not to watch his ass as he goes, failing miserably.

  He turns the corner, and I hear his feet padding down the entry hall.

  The door opens, hard.

  “Oh, Sammi!” he hollers in his best singsong.

  “What?!”

  “You might wanna do something about this.”

  There’s a chuckle in his voice that tells me I most definitely do not want to do something about that. Whatever it is.

  Then the door closes.

  Apprehensively, I follow in his wake.

  What now?

  Halfway down the hall, I find Mysti May.

  She’s spooning what appears to be Bangkok’s answer to Celine Dion, wig and all.

  On the floor beside them rests a large Buddha head, roughly severed at the neck and looking about as good as I feel.

  Yeah. That seems about right.

  I don’t even try to contain my laughter this time. Great bursts of lunatic giggles erupt from my throat.

  On a morning of complete and utter insanity, this might just take the cake.

  I continue laughing as I make my way back down the hall, hearing Mysti and her new friend groan behind me.

  What the fuck happened last night?

  My laughter finally dies off when my phone rings.

  I make a mad dash for the coffee table, tripping and stumbling over god knows what along the way.

  Eggs. Shit.

  I slide my finger quickly across the screen, ignoring his call. I definitely can’t deal with him right now. Not until I figure out what the hell happened here.

  I’ve been so busy playing catch up, I’ve completely forgotten that he’s flying in tonight.

  In a few short hours, Eggs will be here, completely clueless and ready to get hitched. We’ve got lunch scheduled for this afternoon. Then the wedding ceremony tonight. And sometime in between all that, I’ll need to show him and the rest of the team my award…

  Speaking of which…

  Where the fuck is my award?

  I scan the room with my eyes.

  Of course, it’s nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 4

  Sammi

  7:04 PM FRIDAY

  I’m still feeling high from the applause. So much hard work, so many hours in the lab, all leading up to this moment.

  I clutch my award tightly to my chest.

  Definitely never letting go of this thing.

  The IMBC is a big deal. Not just for me, but for Marine Biologists worldwide, so I’m feeling more than a little proud.

  The room is packed to the brim with scientists. More than one of whom has clearly taken advantage of the open bar.

  Not me. Tonight, I’m keeping my wits about me.

  I learned my lesson in Vegas: Sammi Brighton and tequila are not good friends.

  I see the gang at a table up ahead and jog over to meet them.

  “Tada!” I say, holding the award out for their inspection.

  It’s met with a small chorus of applause and ‘Woo-hoo!’s.

  It feels great to have them all here.

  It almost makes up for the fact that Eggs is missing it.

  In terms of fiancés, Eggs is nothing if not practical. If he could be here, he would, but he can’t. That’s part of what makes us such a great match—we get each other, and we don’t get emotional about it.

  We share the same values, and that’s what really matters in a relationship.

  I’ve never been big on the ooey gooey notion of love. You don’t choose your future based on butterflies or fireworks. Like all good decisions, you choose it based on numbers and facts.

  Eggs and I have exactly the kind of relationship that I want. It’s logical, calculated. It makes sense.

  Which is why I realize that he wouldn’t miss my award without a good, solid reason. It’s comforting—even though it would be a lot more comforting if he were here. This means a lot to me, and I wish I could share it with him.

  He’s not the only absentee, though. There are a few co-workers I wish had made it as well. My team specifically, all busy with tasks of their own.

  Makes me feel a little bad for even being here. They’re all out in the field with their noses to the grindstone, and I’m schmoozing it up in Bangkok while my contemporaries all applaud my efforts.

  Some of my disappointment must show on my face, because Percy lays her hand on my shoulder, drawing me away from my thoughts.

  “Stop looking like such a wet fucking monkey,” she says. “Eggo Humpdick will be here tomorrow—and then soon enough you’ll be Mrs. Eggo Humpdick.”

  “Humpdork, more like,” Misty rolls her eyes. “Y’all nerds are perfect for each other…but I’m glad that it’s just us girls tonight.”

  I look pointedly at Liam, who shrugs.

  “Please. He doesn’t count.” Becky chimes in. “Do you, babe? You can borrow one of my dresses if you’re feeling left out.”

  Liam just chuckles and shakes his head. “Love, that’s very sweet of you, but you know I don’t have the legs for it.”

  “Besides,” Percy says, “without Eggs here, we can talk wedding!”

  They’re all smiles at that.

  I guess they have a point. Eggs isn’t the type to sit around and talk about the wedding all night. It’s nice to just have the girls sometimes.

  Well, the girls and Liam.

  We all sit around the table, and Becky launches into it.

  Weddings are a reflection of the couple, so ours is understated and practical.

  That being said, I’ve still let Becky have some fun with it.

  “It’s going to be gorgeous,” Becky says. “I’ve got everything handled. Even the weather is going to be perfect! Best little beach wedding ever. Like, totally.”

  I smile at her. She really gets going once she’s in her zone.

  Truthfully, though, I’m more excited about the honeymoon.

  I know that a working honeymoon isn’t for everyone, but I can’t wait. Studying the migration patterns of hammerheads with Eggs? Paradise.

  Who could ask for more?

  We pass around appetizers as we talk.

  Flowers, music, food—Becky’s got it all worked out.

  I’m glad she’s got the reins on this one. Honestly, I can’t see myself focusing long enough to put it all together.

  “So that’s that!” she finishes, displaying a huge smile as she looks around at the group. “Sound good?”

  “Sounds great, Becks.” I was definitely zoning out for a big chunk of it, but I’m sure it’s wonderful. I trust her way more with this than I’d trust myself.

  “So now we just need to decide what we’re doing tonight,” Mysti chimes in.

  “Tonight?”

  “Mhhm.” she says, mischievously waggling her eyebrows.

  I know that eyebrow waggle all too well.

  “No,” I tell her, wagging my finger right back. “Hard no. Absolutely not. Not tonight.”

  She looks at me like I just kicked her puppy, “What?!”

  “You know what happened last time! We’re not going anywhere but back to the room.” I can’t believe it even needs to be said. After Vegas, I thought we all knew better.

  “Oh, come onnn,” Mysti whines. “When are we ever gonna be in Bangkok again?”

  I look to the rest of the group for support, sure that I’m not the only one thinking clearly.

  “She’s got a point.” Percy says.

  The traitor.

  I shoot her my best e tu glare.

  “I’m not saying we go crazy,” she continues, holding up her hands, “but what’s one drink gonna hurt?”

  The others nod in agreement. I’m totally outnumbered.

  Still, I shake my head. Hard.

  “NO. No way. When have we ever had just one drink together?”

  “But you’re getting married!” Becky pipes up. “We have to go get a drink. We’ll keep it tame
, Sammi. Scout’s honor.”

  I know damn well she was never a girl scout.

  Just as I know that this is a terrible idea. For some reason, whenever I get around these three, I damn near lose my mind.

  I shake my head again. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

  Mysti groans from across the table.

  “Look,” Percy says, all business now, “nobody wants a repeat of Vegas. That’s not gonna happen. We just want to have one last drink with you as a single woman. One teeny little drink. What’s the harm in that?”

  Fucking temptress. No wonder she has billionaires eating out of her hand around the globe.

  Any other time, I can resist her. When she uses her serious voice, though, it’s so hard to argue.

  “Fine.” I say, dramatically hanging my head in defeat. “Fine, fine, fine.”

  I hear them cheer. Not my intended reaction.

  I snap my head up, “ONE. DRINK.” I accentuate the statement by holding a single finger up. “One. Okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. One drink. No more.” Mysti says, sounding wholly unconvincing.

  “I’m serious.”

  “We know!” Percy says.

  I push my chair back and stand.

  Not a moment later, Becky’s tiny hand clasps around mine. I barely have time to grab my purse, before I’m being dragged toward the exit.

  “Aw, cheer up,” she says. “Everything’s perfect. It’s gonna be great.”

  I mumble under my breath. Something vague about terrible friends.

  “What?” she asks.

  “I said, one—”

  “One drink! WE KNOW!”

  She drags me out into the humid air, my heels clacking against the sidewalk.

  I remember thinking, once again, that this is a bad idea.

  It’s just one drink, though. One fucking drink—for real this time.

  I mean, how bad can one drink be?

  Chapter 5

  Sammi

  10:37 AM SATURDAY

  One drink, I said. No big deal, I said.

  What a lie that turned out to be.

  The way my head is pounding makes me feel like I drank all of the tequila in Thailand. And I’m pretty sure the aftertaste of it all will linger for a damn month before I can taste anything else besides tequila.

  Let me tell you: as much as I love tequila, I might have to switch to something much less dangerous in the future. Like cocaine or meth. At least then, I’ll remember everything.