Waking up in Vegas

by Natasha Preston

  “That’s as much as you can hope with Wren.”

  “Hello. I’m right here!”

  Mum laughs again, and Brody gives her a guilty grin. If she wasn’t so happy to have her three kids home, she might have seen what that expression really was and called him out.

  “You’ll be happy to hear that your son slept with many people. Your eldest daughter, too,” I tell her.

  Turning her nose up, she replies, “Wonderful.” We’re almost at the front door now, and Mum adds, “Emma? Really?”

  Brody and I both chuckle. “Okay, not as many as Luke, but they both put it about. You should be proud, Mum.”

  “I never know what to feel in these situations. The mid-twenties version of me is very proud, but the mother…”

  “We can leave it there,” I tell her, kicking off my shoes as we get inside. “I really need a shower.”

  “You know where it is, Little Wren,” Louise says.

  I love Brody’s mum, but I’m not loving her use of Little Wren. Neither is Brody. He winces at the nickname I’m sure he will never use again.

  “I’ll eat first, I think.” I’m hungry enough to force something down. I just hope my stomach doesn’t reject it.

  “The plane food?” Mum asks.

  “Was bearable,” Brody says. “Wren drank their bar dry.”

  I slap his chest and instantly regret it. Yanking back my arm, I bite my lip as electricity flows up my arm. His eyes darken.

  “That’s my girl,” Mum says, missing the fleeting moment between Brody and me.

  She heads into the kitchen with everyone else.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “Don’t change how you are with me, Wren. I couldn’t stand that.”

  How can I not when everything has changed? Brody is legally my husband, and we have to navigate this new, fragile territory while not letting it affect our friendship. Or all of the friendships built and entwined between our two families.

  Twenty-One

  Brody

  I rub my stinging eyes. I didn’t manage to sleep on the plane or the past few nights.

  Everyone is still at my parents’ home, but I need to make an excuse soon and leave. After a shower and sleep, I’m sure things will be clearer. I’ll be able to call Wren, get her to my apartment, and start the first stage of the divorce. Which I’m sure is contacting a lawyer.

  Of course, I don’t need her with me to do that, but she wants to be there.

  I’m surprised really. I would have thought she would give anything for me to tell the story and for her to stay in the background. We’re going to, undoubtedly and understandably, be judged by the lawyer, even if they don’t voice it.

  Good thing I don’t care what a stranger thinks of me. Wren, on the other hand, will likely get embarrassed.

  Covering my yawn with my hand, I stand. “I need to take off,” I say.

  Wren’s eyes are on me in a heartbeat.

  I hope she doesn’t think she’s coming to mine now.

  “Okay, love. We’ll see you at the weekend, right?”

  Nodding, I hug my mum. “I’ll be here. Later, everyone.”

  I grab my suitcase and head out of the door. My car has been left in my parents’ drive, so I can get home by myself.

  As I’m throwing my case into the boot, Wren calls my name.

  Groaning, I look up. She’s alone.

  “Not right now,” I tell her.

  She wraps her arms around herself. “Later?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll text you.”

  She frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I sigh. “I’m tired; that’s all.”

  “We need to get this sorted, Brody.”

  “And we will. But right now, I’m exhausted, and it’s not going to make much difference if we call a lawyer today or tomorrow morning.”

  Biting her lip, she narrows her eyes at me.

  “Wren, everything is fine. Come over tomorrow after nine and we’ll make the call, okay?”

  With a nod, she replies hesitantly, “All right. See you tomorrow.”

  I turn without another word and get into my car. I’m not angry with her—not really. I just know that I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now. I don’t want to have to explain what happened again.

  My apartment is only a few miles away, and traffic is light, so I make the journey in five minutes. I grab my case and let myself in. The place is cool and eerily quiet. For some reason, you can tell that I’ve not been here. And not just because it’s tidy because, generally, I’m quite tidy.

  I dump my bag in my room where I pick up a clean pair of boxers and head for the shower. After being on a long-haul flight, I feel gross.

  Ditching my clothes on the floor, I turn the water on in my large shower and step in. Hot water cascades down my body, and I tilt my head up, letting it hit my face. The glass screen steams immediately.

  With my eyes closed, my mind conjures Wren.

  She’s smiling up at me, her plump bottom lip captured between her teeth, crystal-blue eyes peeking through long lashes.

  I groan, feeling her soft skin against mine.

  Leaning back against the cold tiles, I reach around and grip my cock in my hand, wishing it were her fingers curled around me. Wren is impossibly beautiful and sexy with a smart mouth and no inhibitions in the bedroom. The perfect woman, and I didn’t even know it until I married her.

  I pump harder, thinking about the way she writhed beneath me. The sound of her breathy commands and how she moaned my name against my mouth when she came around me.

  My hips jerk wildly as I tilt my head up, and the orgasm comes out of nowhere, hitting me like a freight train.

  My lungs inflate on a deep breath. I open my eyes and shake the water out of my face.

  Great. Now, I’m coming as fast as I did when I was fourteen.

  She’s fucking ruining me.

  I slam the button on the shower, and the water cuts off. I get out, and I feel only slightly better now that I’m not coiled like a fucking spring. But tomorrow, she’s going to knock on my door, and we’re going to be here alone, so dangerously close to my bed… and my sofa, countertops, wall, floor.

  I roughly rub a towel over my body and dry off.

  If Luke knew the way I was thinking about his youngest sister, he would kill me.

  When I’m dry, I pull on the boxers and head straight to bed. I stick the charger into my phone and get under the thin quilt. It takes me about five seconds before I feel myself drift.

  Four in the morning. That’s when I wake up. Time zones and jet lag are a bitch. Will Wren be awake, too?

  I could message her and see.

  But why?

  Shut up.

  There is nothing we can do until nine; no lawyer’s office will be open yet.

  Still, the urge to pick up my phone is overwhelming.

  So, I get out of bed and leave it on my bedside table while I head for coffee.

  My building is relatively small with only six apartments on each floor and only five floors. I like it though. The other buildings I looked at were too busy, and people would watch each other walk past.

  On my third floor, there are two couples—both professionals who work in the city and commute—an elderly lady, and two young families, who, thankfully, aren’t too loud.

  I don’t think any of them will hear me moving around my apartment at this hour. From conversations I’ve heard while out in the lobby, the family opposite will be awake anyway.

  I fill the kettle with water and prepare the mug while I wait for it to boil. Since I’m awake, I should research divorce lawyers, so I’m prepared when Wren arrives. She can choose which one she wants us to go with. Or maybe we’ll have to get one each. I’m clueless over here. Neither of us knows how this works.

  With my coffee made, I pull up my laptop and search. There are pages of results, but I narrow it down to four, all in the city. We’ll have to travel a little if we need to visit them
, but it’s better than someone in town seeing us.

  I’m not sure how we’d explain that.

  By the time it’s eight and I can text Wren, I’ve cleaned my already-clean apartment, unpacked and stored my suitcase, and washed a load of clothes from the trip.

  I’m ready for her. I feel stronger today. I’m prepared for a conversation neither of us really wants to have and prepared to get this over with.

  That is, until I open the door and see her.

  I take an involuntary sharp intake of breath, and my chest coils.

  Twenty-Two

  Wren

  I bite my lip as Brody steps aside to let me in. He’s wearing shorts and nothing else.

  Did he do that on purpose? He’s still on Team Sleep Together. And I can’t say that I’m wholeheartedly against it. Not that I can ever tell him that.

  We had one night of toe-curling sex, and that’s enough. If we go there again, where do we stop?

  I’m already married to the guy; there’s no need to push it.

  “Do you want a drink?” he asks, clearing his throat.

  Is he nervous?

  “Coffee would be great, but I’ll make it. Yours suck.”

  “What? My coffee does not suck.”

  Grinning, I reply, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

  Walking past him, I head to his kitchen and start making a drink for us both. I’ve not been in Brody’s apartment much, but I have no issue with helping myself.

  “How did you sleep?” he asks from behind me, watching me work in his modern white kitchen.

  I twist my head to look over my shoulder. What a normal question for him to ask. He’s never asked me anything like that before.

  “Better in my own bed, but I woke early. What about you?”

  He leans against the doorframe. “Same. I did a little research this morning.”

  “Don’t listen to the other women; you don’t need a penis enlargement.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m not going there. I’ve found four divorce lawyers. We each need one, so I’ll let you pick first. They’re all in the city.”

  “Wow, you really have done the homework.” I pour milk on top of the coffee. If you pour boiling water first, you burn the coffee and give it a gross bitter taste—something Brody hasn’t learned.

  “We want this over fast, right?” He raises his eyebrow.

  “Yes,” I reply. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tease. I do appreciate that you’re taking the lead here.”

  The whole thing gives me a massive headache whenever I think about it. I wouldn’t know where to start. It’s one of those things that is too big, so I pretend it’s not there.

  “I’ll fire up the laptop again, and you can see which one you want to call.” He hesitates for a second and then walks out of the kitchen.

  I sigh, and my shoulders drop. I have to choose a lawyer. Don’t they all do the same thing? I really couldn’t care less who represents me since I don’t want anything from Brody. There should just be a form we can fill in online.

  But then the lawyer or government wouldn’t make much money.

  Wait. How much is this going to cost? I didn’t even think about that. I have some savings, but I was kind of hoping I could use it to buy a house someday. Great!

  I finish up the coffee and take it through to the living room. Brody is sitting with the laptop on his legs. I put our drinks on the coffee table in front of the deep black sofa and sit beside him.

  “Okay,” I say, taking a breath. “Show me these people who will make a marriage disappear.”

  “Check out the four tabs.” He hands me the laptop and picks up his mug.

  I glance at the first one. Then the second. Third. Forth.

  They’re pretty much all the same, all boasting a high success rate and to have your best interests at heart. I can’t think that any of them really care, only pretend to while they’re cashing your cheques.

  Not that it matters as long as the end result is the same, I suppose.

  “Erm, I’ll go with her,” I tell Brody.

  He looks over and nods. “Okay.”

  “Who are you picking?”

  “The first one. You’re right; I don’t make good coffee.” He takes another sip of the decent drink I made.

  “I know. Do you want to call first?” I ask him.

  He hums. “After the coffee.”

  He still hasn’t put a top on.

  I put the laptop on the table and pick up my drink. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Usually, when people get a divorce, they hate each other and rant to their lawyer on their own.”

  “Yeah, well, they’ve usually had a life together to get pissed off with each other.”

  Taking a sip, I nod. “At least this won’t be messy. I just want it over, so there’s no cloud hanging over us. I want things back to the way they were.”

  “Nothing has changed, Wren.” His eyes are firmly on the wall opposite us when he says those ridiculous words.

  “Brody?”

  “Don’t, Wren. Things need to stay the same.”

  “But they have,” I say. “I mean, besides the glaringly obvious fact that we had sex. We never had sex… with each other anyway.”

  “You think sex means something has changed between us forever?”

  “How can it not? I still remember you naked. Hell, sometimes, I think I can still feel you inside—”

  “Stop right there!” he interrupts, raising one hand. “If you’re not up for a repeat, you’re not allowed to mention it.”

  My heart flies. “Why? Does it turn you on?”

  His eyes narrow. “Wren,” he warns.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I promise not to mention it again.” I cross my racing heart with my free hand.

  “Why do I not believe that?” Brody puts down his now-empty mug and picks up his phone to call the person who will represent him.

  I sit in absolute silence as I listen to him explain our situation.

  Wincing, I hold my mug up. This is so shit.

  “Yeah,” he says. “I understand. That’s what they said at the courthouse. No, we have nothing to split. She definitely won’t want anything from me. Yes, I’m sure.”

  His solicitor is asking if he thinks I will go after half of his house, as if I think signing a piece of paper entitles me to anything that Brody has worked for. People do, I’m sure. Though they have usually walked down the aisle sober and planned a life together.

  Brody wraps up the conversation after what feels like three hours.

  Hearing all of the details from him has left a bad taste in my mouth. I swallow the metallic-tasting lump and pull my feet up on the sofa.

  Hanging up, Brody blows out a long breath and drops his phone on the table.

  “You okay?” I ask him. “That sounded intense.”

  “I think I’ve forgotten everything she said already. She’s emailing some stuff, and I’m going to meet her next week.”

  “She wants you to protect your apartment. I would never try to take anything from you.”

  The side of his lips kick up. “I know. I told her that.”

  “I heard, but I thought it was important for you to hear it from me, too.”

  He dips his head in a short nod. “Thanks.”

  “Emma has been impossible. She came into my room at six this morning, asking how I’m dealing and how I feel.”

  “Is she still pissed at me?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. But she’s angry with me as well. She says she’s not, but every time the subject comes up, her eye does that twitchy thing.”

  “She shouldn’t be angry with you,” he says.

  “Don’t start that. You’re not some monster who forced alcohol down my throat and made me walk down the aisle.”

  I wanted to. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be married to Brody. Now, I want nothing more than to not be married to him.

  Twenty-Three

  Brody

  Wren hangs up the phone and tu
rns to me. “She sounded… I don’t know… not shocked. Impressed, maybe. I think I’m her first drunken Vegas marriage.”

  “I think that’s safe to assume.”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “Sounds like it’s going to be pretty straightforward. Soon, I’ll be your ex-wife.” Her eyes widen. “No. Ew. We’re never to use that term again. I don’t like that.”

  I don’t like that either. It makes us sound middle-aged. I’m going to be an ex-husband. Somehow, that seems worse than being Wren’s husband.

  “Well, I think I need a drink.”

  “We’re not on holiday now. If you day-drink, you have a problem.”

  “Wren, I clearly have a problem.”

  “But not a drinking one yet. It’s a slippery slope.” She folds her legs on the sofa. “I guess I should leave soon. There’s nothing more we can do until we’ve been to our appointments.”

  “Will you take Emma to yours?”

  “I’m not sure. You know how she is. I might ask Fliss.”

  “If you want to continue the weird, I’ll come with you,” I offer.

  Laughing, she tilts her head back and lies against the cushions on the sofa. “Could you imagine?”

  “I’m serious, Wren. I don’t mind. This isn’t your conventional divorce.”

  “If you go with me, I go with you,” she says. “Their reactions will be funny, and we might as well enjoy this.”

  Shaking my head, I lean back and swing one knee up on the sofa. “You’re on.”

  With a smile, she cheers, “Yay.”

  God, this is so comfortable when it absolutely shouldn’t be. We were perfect in bed and now out of it.

  “You want something to eat?” I hear the words leave my mouth and cringe inwardly.

  She really should go. I really shouldn’t want her to stay.

  “You’re going to cook?”

  “I can cook.”

  “Okay. Surprise me.”

  “This is no restaurant; you need to earn it.”

  Groaning, she stands with me. “Fine. What am I burning?”

  “Nothing. You’re making the coffee again.”