I sit up, realization smacking me dead in the center of my naked chest. “Fireball,” I whisper.
Stella and Greer both stiffen.
That one word . . . it holds all the weight in the world. They know my toxic relationship with Fireball, they’ve seen it firsthand. They’ve experienced the tantalizing take, take, take of the alcohol villain, never letting up until I’m strewn across the floor like a stack of potatoes.
“No.” Stella shakes her head. “Tell me that’s a lie. Please, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t drink Fireball last night.”
My hand goes to my throat in disbelief as I nod. “Copious amounts.”
“Cora! You know your volatile relationship with Fireball. What were you thinking?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I rub my temples. “I don’t think I was thinking at all.”
“Clearly, you weren’t because you got married,” Stella says, “on your divorce-cation.”
That’s pretty stupid.
In a calmer tone, Greer asks, “Do you know where you went? Maybe we can see if it actually went through. Maybe it was a fake marriage ceremony or something.”
I perk up from that suggestion.
“Maybe . . . but . . . ugh, I don’t remember where we went.”
Greer takes a seat next to me. “Is there anything on your phone that might be able to tell us? Any Google searches in the history, or pictures?”
“God, you’re a modern-day marvel when it comes to solving mysteries,” I say as I unlock my phone again. “My brother is lucky he snagged you.” I go to my Google search history first and the first thing I see is a link to a drive-thru chapel. I frown.
“What?” Stella asks, taking a seat on my other side.
I click on the link and up pops the picture of a white chapel with a drive-thru window on the very front. Recognition immediately seizes me.
“Oh God.”
“Is that where you got married?” Greer asks, a crinkle of distaste to her nose.
“I want to say no, but . . . God, it looks so familiar.”
“That’s horrifying,” Stella says.
“Not helping,” I shoot back at her.
“Sorry, but . . . seriously, Cora, a drive-thru? How could you even drive last night?”
Sweat breaks out on my upper lip. “We didn’t,” I answer as I go to my photos and spot exactly what I was afraid of. Swallowing hard, I hold my phone out to them. “We took an Uber.”
Clear as day, it’s a picture of me and Pike in the back of an old pink Cadillac convertible, an Uber sticker on the windshield in the far corner, our Uber driver with a huge smile on his face.
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” Stella whispers as she leans in closer for a better look.
Greer covers her mouth and does a horrible job of covering up her laughter.
“This isn’t funny,” I groan.
“I mean, it kind of is,” Greer says. “You got married on the day you were celebrating your divorce, but not only did you get married, you got married in a drive-thru in Vegas, an Uber driver being your mode of transportation. Now that’s a story.”
“I don’t want a story, I want . . . I wanted fun, not a colossal mistake.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Greer waves me off.
“Easy for you to say. Arlo isn’t your brother. He’s not going to jump down your throat about being an idiot.”
“No, he’s just my husband,” Greer shoots back. “But we don’t need to worry about him, because we’re going to handle this discreetly. We can get this whole thing annulled. It’ll be as if it never happened. Simple as that.”
“You mean, no one will know about this?”
Greer shakes her head. “No one. This will be in our little circle of trust. Just us three.”
I glance down the hallway, hoping we haven’t been too loud, and whisper, “You can’t tell Keiko, she has no idea what keeping a secret means, and she’ll annoy me to no end with her analytical side if she catches wind of what happened.”
“I would never tell her,” Stella says. “That’s just asking for a nightmare. This stays between us.”
“Perfect. Okay, so, I guess I have to . . .” I pause, my hungover brain working hard. “Wait . . . he said . . .” I pause again. “He was going to meet me at my place.” Right? That’s what he said? I’m not making that up?
“What?” Stella asks. “How does he know where you live?”