Back at home, I’m serious, busy, and have no time to have lunch outside of the office. I have no desire to date and I definitely do not practically beg a woman to give me a chance.
But here I am.
Fixated on the woman that I drunkenly married during a blackout. Asking her to hold out on wanting to get divorced and saying that a long-distance relationship can and will work, despite my past and the unknown.
What our future holds?
Fuck! Who knows.
The last time that I dated a woman, we were both workhorses as I just got named partner and we would occasionally get together to eat a lunch or fuck. I’m not completely sure if that can be called a relationship, but the past few years have been busy.
But here I am, sitting on this woman’s couch, after eating the most delicious meal that I’ve had in years and wanting nothing to do but get to know her better.
Who the fuck am I?
My hand is on her knee and we’re sitting close.
She’s resting her head on her hand and has a happy smile on her face.
“So, tell me what brought you to Vegas that weekend?” I ask her.
“My friends and I have wanted to do a girls weekend trip for a little bit. We just never had our schedules line up. But then once it did, we jumped at the chance. What about you?”
“My buddy’s bachelor party, you know, the typical excuse for a bunch of guys to go there. Most of us went to college together, so in a way it was like a reunion, even though half of them, I still see on a regular basis.”
“Do you drink as much as we did that night?”
“Not at all. I will have a drink usually after getting home from work, but there’s no blackout drinking like that night.” I reply shaking my head.
“And you don’t remember anything from the night?” She leans in.
“I’ve had glimpses here and there, but not vivid details. I had glimpses of you and possibly what we did, but your actual face was never really that clear. At least, until I had seen a photo of you.”
“And you got one from a private investigator, one you hired because you lost 24 hours of your life?” She grins.
“It was haunting me. I’m glad that I did, receiving a copy of our marriage certificate out of context would have been shocking.”
“You got one too?” she stands up and rushes down the hallway, then returns with an envelope.
“Yeah. We requested that the chapel file it.” I tell her matter of factly, just as my PI told me.
I look it over and smile.
“So, a marriage in Vegas is true and binding? I mean, we’re married, for real?” She asks as if she still can’t believe any of this has happened.
I nod and try to change the subject, so I can lengthen my time with her.
“So, Mrs. Addison, I can go back to my hotel, or we can watch a movie?”
“I haven’t changed my last name,” she tells me, “what kind of movies do you watch?”
“I’m cool if you want to keep your last name, I’m not a total dick and I really don’t have a preference. I watch documentaries and some random true crime shows on Netflix.”
“We got married while wasted, I think the married thing is still fresh and yes, if I did get married, I would hyphenate or keep my last name for sure. I can get down with a thriller, that’s a little true crimey.” She replies and I’m enjoying the two topics we’re covering.
“Darling, whether you believe it or not, we’re married. It’s legit.” I hold up the marriage certificate and then get an idea, “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go for a drive, are you up for that?” I ask.
She looks at me for a long moment then nods.
Moments later, I’m starting the car with a general idea of where I want to go, but I still ask her to type in Venice Beach into the navigation. Once we’re on the road, I casually rest my hand on her knee and she does nothing to push it away, she even leans toward me, with her knees pointed in my direction and her elbow resting on the center console as she looks out into the early evening.
Once I navigate through traffic and find parking, I offer her my hand and we walk together toward the beach, past the tourist shops on the boardwalk, past the outdoor gym and before we get to the sand, I direct her to a bench and we pull off our shoes. I roll up my jeans and offer her my hand again. She takes it without hesitation, and we walk across the sand stopping at the water’s edge.
I drop my shoes beside my feet and take a deep breath.
“Care to sit?” I ask her.
“You’re going to get sand everywhere.” She drops her sandals and drops to the sand.
I follow suit and sit as close to her as I can.
I drape my arm over her shoulder and pull her into me naturally. She doesn’t pull away, even leans into me.
This moment, the smell of the salt in the air, the sounds of waves crashing and seagulls flying overhead, and the texture of the sand between my toes. I want to remember this moment forever, as we relax into one another’s embrace.
“I want you to come to Seattle. I’ve seen you in your element, I would like for you to see me in mine.” I say to her, looking out over the water.
“Are you as carefree as you have seemed to be here? I wouldn’t have pictured you in jeans or wanting to sit on the beach. Based upon your job and all.”
“I can occasionally be casual, but work is mostly suits and not as lax. I will admit my place overlooks the bay, and while it’s a great place, I don’t take part in visiting much of what Seattle has to offer. Part of me feels us getting married that weekend was part of the plan for me, somehow. To let loose and to ease up on the working myself to death. I love what I do, but I also have noticed that I don’t take the time to enjoy my time when I’m not at work.”
“Since you work a lot, does that mean that you don’t make time for relationships?” she asks pulling apart but still sitting beside me looking out to the horizon.
“Not as much time as I should. I think that I’m understanding now that I have been greatly lacking in a few areas of my life. I have you to thank for that.” I say playfully, bumping my shoulder into hers.
“Why me?”
“Because, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have known that there was a deficiency in any of my life.”
“Oh wow, that’s a good line.” She smiles gazing ahead at the water as it breaks on the shore.
“I just thought of it myself, so, my question, you never answered, will you come to Seattle, maybe next weekend?”
“About that, I don’t know if you are aware, but I likely make a significantly less amount of money than you do, and I don’t just have expendable money to take last-minute trips. I plan out trips well in advance, like months in advance.”
“I realize that, and I’m prepared for it. Like you said, I make money, and considering the fact that I do not want to wait months to see you again after my week here is up, I will happily fund your trips to Seattle.”
“Sounds like a business transaction and so one way. Tell me, what is your plan here? We fly to one another every other weekend? You pay for everything, all the gallivanting—that just seems unfair.”
“Let’s play it weekend by weekend. I have to start driving back home on Sunday, to be back in the office Tuesday morning. How about this, a true test to any relationship is a road trip, any chance that you can take Friday and Monday off of work?”
Chapter Ten
“This one time I partied with the Mayor watched him fall off a stage drunk, get back to like a pro and then partied the rest of the night with Kool And The Gang!”
PEYTON
His question shocks me.
Hell, everything that he’s said to me since meeting him has shocked me.
He wants to date or get to know me. He doesn’t want to immediately put an end to whatever this is. This accidental marriage.
And now, he wants me to be in Seattle.
I’m not entirely sure if I could take the time off so soon, but every
part of me wants to say yes.
“I just got this new event that I need to start, I don’t know if taking a four day weekend would be the smartest option right now.” I finally say.
“What if I told you that I can help you out with that?” He asks with a mischievous smile.
“I’m not following,” I look over to him.
“What if I told you that I know the company who likely hired yours, or at least I have an idea of a few companies who may have hired you?”
“What?” My mouth drops open and my head swings his way.
“I suggested your company to a few of my clients as I was meeting with them this week. You know what I do, right?”
“You buy and sell companies.” I reply robotically.
“In about 90% of the companies that I work with, they are looking to throw events after their final steps of the takeover, it’s a rebranding or relaunching of the new company. Since now, I know someone specifically in that business, and especially here in LA, I can refer these events to your company.”
“Are you the reason why I was named as the planner for the one that I was assigned?” I ask, feeling my anger boiling.
I don’t need any handouts and I definitely do not need him interfering with my job.
“Not at all. I introduced myself to the owner, your boss as a heads up that I was hoping to send business his way, said that I was a friend of yours and you mentioned that your company does corporate events. I swear, that’s all. I told him that I would like to partner with him by letting my clients in the area, know about what you guys offer. And that’s all I did. I only said your name with the introduction. I didn’t say anything else.” He holds his hands up.
“But you talked to my boss.” I push away from him and stand up. I begin to pace on the sand in front of him. He stands up and halts my movements by placing his hands on my arms. He bends slightly to look me in the eyes.
“I did. I felt that it was professionally important to give him a heads up. I should have called him before I mentioned your company, but luckily, he was thrilled with the references. I swear to you, I did it with all honest intentions. I didn’t think that doing so was doing something forbidden.”
“And you told Mr. Frederick that you know me?”
“I said that we’re friends, I didn’t think that it was my place to tell your boss that you got married, I don’t know the relationship there.”
“When did you talk to him? Was it as soon as you came down here? When your PI reported back to you?” I need to know if expanding our company is because of him.
“The other day,” he replies immediately.
“And you’ve never talked to him before this?”
“Not at all. Why?” He looks confused.
“We went to Seattle a few weeks ago for a conference. While we were there, we looked at office property. I didn’t know how the two would connect.” I shake my head, not fully understanding what my train of thought was.
“Wait, you were in Seattle?” His hands drop, and he stands up straight as I nod. “And you were aware that we—about me?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think to maybe find me? I know that you’ve looked me up, you knew the address of my building.”
“I did. But what was I supposed to say, ‘hey, I’m your wife and it’s nice to meet you?’”
He smiles but doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I ask him.
“You just said that you’re my wife,” he shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Well, yeah. Remember, we have the marriage certificate.” I roll my eyes.
“All night, you’ve been adamant on avoiding the fact that we’re married, and you just now said it.”
“Ugh, Max. Can we just go? The beach sucks right now.” I say crossing my arms over my chest. I feel frustrated and I’m sure I’m over reacting, but I just need a moment and getting away from the beautiful beach, where we shared a pretty great hug, I just don’t want to tarnish this memory right now.
“No. We’re not done. Why didn’t you come and find me?”
“I was scared. I thought that because we had gone as long as we had between Vegas and when you showed up, that you couldn’t care less. That you wouldn’t be interested, and that well, the fairytale of being married to someone like you would have been over just as quickly as it started.” I look down as I bury my toes in the sand. “You were the hot guy in a tux, I wouldn’t have ever spoken to you if my friends didn’t dare me. You are out of my league. I guess, you would have thought that I was some crazy chick.”
He steps in front of me and pulls my hand into his.
“Never. I mean the jury is still out on the craziness, I think we need to continue to get to know one another. But never, would I have turned you away. It doesn’t matter whether or not your status in life is the same as mine to be with me. I want to determine that factor. I want us to determine that together. You’re beautiful. Any man would be a fool to turn you away. So, yes, Peyton, if you haven’t gotten it yet, I’m interested. And I would have loved it if you came to my door and told me that you were my wife.”
He takes my breath away as he bends, and his mouth covers mine with one hand cradling my jaw and the other wrapping around my waist pulling me against him. My arms dangle at my side before my body fully reacts. I move my arms around his neck and melt into him.
Into his kiss.
MAXWELL
“Bornnnnnn to be wiiiiiiiiilllllllld!” Peyton sings off-key as I cruise up the freeway.
She head-bangs and plays the air guitar as she moves her hips in her seat. After the beach the other night, and once I calmed down and gained some perspective, we relaxed into a comfortability with one another.
She’s not shy of the fact that she can be a goofball, she knows that she sings horribly, but does it anyways, and even though her friend Quinn warned me about Peyton’s lack of remembrance of charging her phone—I did receive a text from her roommate saying her phone was dead and to have Peyton to call her. I am fascinated by her and liking every little bit of what I’m learning about her.
We’re almost to Seattle, just passing the state line into Washington and she’s kept me entertained the entire trip. She’s begged to drive throughout our drive, but a gentleman always drives his lady around. Each time I’ve told her that, she would protest by sticking out her lower lip and crossing her arms over her chest, pushing up her tits in her tank top and making my mouth water.
I don’t know how my last minute thought of her coming home with me was made possible, but I’m not going to question anything.
Her boss gave her a few extra days off and set her up with a few more viewings of properties while in Seattle for their possible office expansion. The thought of her company opening up where I am excites me, but I down play my feelings of it as we’re still a fresh relationship. Plus, I don’t want to jump to conclusions about it being her who comes to Seattle to run the space.
“Oh my God! I think I can see the space needle!” she yelps.
“We’re still several hours out, I think you are seeing things.” I smirk.
“Then what’s that?” She asks pointing to something in the distance.” I follow to where she points and laugh.
“That’s a cell phone tower.”
She slinks into her seat and mumbles an ‘oh’.
My hand rests on her thigh as we continue to drive. She starts to sing again, she tells me made up stories, and she even exhausts herself and nods off. I pull into the garage of my tower and slip into my parking space. I cut the engine and turn to her.
I lightly shake her shoulder, “hey sleepy-head, we’re here.” I say.
She slowly wakes, blinks rapidly and sits up.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“I’ve taken you to an undisclosed location, where I plan to chop you up into pieces,” I grin, “we are in the parking garage of my building.”
“What time is it?” she unbuckles her seatbelt.
> I open my door and slide out of the front seat just as she does the same.
“It’s almost dinnertime, speaking of which; we’ll need to order something. What are you in the mood for?” I open the trunk and pull out our bags.
“I could eat a horse, so whatever you want is fine with me.”
“Liver and onions, it is!”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she places her hands on her hips playfully.
“I’m not going to lie to you, but I eat out a lot. Half the time, I’m not even home. So, I’m well versed in takeout.”
I wheel her bag with my duffel resting on my shoulder and I point in the direction of the elevator banks. We ride the elevator to my floor and enter into the foyer of my home. She walks into my space, past the wall separating the living room from the dining room, and straight ahead to look at the view. The clicking of nails across the kitchen floor alerts her attention to a furry creature approaching her.
“And who is this?” she asks bending down to greet Scout.
“My best friend, Scout.” I say proudly.
She pets him for a few minutes and then stands again to look at the view.
Peyton stares at the sunset over Elliot Bay as the lights to the Big Wheel glitter across the water. She walks quickly to the floor to ceiling window and presses her hands against the glass. She pushes away and quickly turns to me with her hand over her mouth and eyes wide.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to touch the glass,” she says.
I prowl toward her, wordlessly. I leave my expression neutral and back her up. I bracket her body between my hands as I press my palms against the glass.
I lower my head and I brush my nose against the delicate skin of her neck. She inhales as I reach her ear and gently bite her ear lobe. After a light tug, I release her and my hand grazes the side of her body.
“You can dirty up my windows all you want.” I whisper against her lips.
I press my lips against hers, with my tongue grazing across hers as she returns the kiss. Her hands wrap around my neck as she pulls me into her. With our bodies pressed against one another, we continue to make-out against the glass of my home. Until I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes dilated with passion. She’s breathless and wordlessly grabs my hand and walks over to my couch. She pushes me to a sitting position and sits astride me as my hands immediately fall to her hips.
What Happens In Vegas Page 7
