Waking Up Wed

Thankfully, she’d unpacked yesterday afternoon and had left her toiletry kit on the bathroom counter. She pulled the fluffy white hotel robe off the hook and double-knotted it around her waist. After running a brush through her hair and securing it into a tight ponytail, she scrubbed her face clean. She brushed her teeth much longer than the American Dental Association recommended, knowing she was stalling for time.

Just as she rinsed out the last of the toothpaste, a knock sounded at the bathroom door. “Uh, Kylie?”

Great. He was still out there. She needed to get rid of him ASAP so she could get down to the business of figuring out just what in the world was going on around here.

“I just found some papers on the dresser,” he said through the locked barrier between them. “I think we may have a little situation.”

* * *

Drew’s head felt as if mortar rounds were ricocheting inside his skull. The marriage license trembling in his normally steady hands looked real enough, but his hazy eyes could barely make out the words. He looked at his watch. Oh nine hundred. He needed to pick up his nephews in less than twenty-four hours. His twin brother’s eight-year-olds were waiting for him at his parents’ house in Boise.

At least he was now dressed and could face the unexpected crisis that had barricaded herself in the bathroom with a little decorum—unlike the behavior he must’ve exhibited last night. He’d found the last of his clothes strewn about as if a bomb had detonated in the hotel room. He was usually so neat and took care with his clothing. Of course, he also took care not to overindulge in alcohol or marry women after knowing them for all of five hours.

Clearly, he wasn’t himself.

For the past ten minutes, he’d been trying to remain cool and controlled while simultaneously racking his foggy brain for details on how he’d ended up in bed with the beautiful woman. Thankfully, she’d run into the bathroom. He hoped she would get dressed because, even for a man who’d sworn off women, there was only so much temptation he could handle.

Yesterday afternoon, the building anxiety and uncertainty about becoming his nephews’ legal guardian while his brother deployed on a top secret mission this summer had swelled to an all-time high. It didn’t help that Drew was suffering from jet lag, having arrived fresh off the cargo plane from a military base in the Middle East. To top it all off, he was about to embark on a new assignment as the staff psychologist at the naval hospital near his hometown. It was a trifecta of pressure he hadn’t been expecting.

He shook his head. Regardless, all the compounding mental and physical effects weren’t an excuse for what he’d done—if only he knew what exactly that was. He’d counseled numerous soldiers and sailors about the healthy and effective ways of handling stress stateside after returning from war. He was pretty sure that getting drunk and marrying the first woman he met wasn’t one of his usual recommendations.

Drew remembered introducing himself to Kylie at the cocktail lounge in the casino yesterday before the rest of the wedding party arrived. He’d been eager to see his buddy Matt Cooper, who was marrying Kylie’s best friend, Maxine Walker. In fact, Drew had indirectly introduced the bride and groom when he’d coerced Cooper to participate in a military pen pal program with Maxine’s son.

Yesterday, emotions had been running high for everyone. For Drew they’d been coupled with the unknown anxiety of what awaited him at home.

Kylie had been so friendly and so easy to talk to. As a psychologist, Drew was accustomed to listening to other people’s problems and giving guidance or counsel whenever necessary. But he’d never been the one on the couch, so to speak, and wasn’t used to venting his own feelings. She’d made a joke about him needing a drink to loosen up, and he’d thought, What could one glass hurt?

He eyed the neon-green oversize souvenir cups shaped like slot machines and then ran a hand over his aching head. What could it hurt, indeed? Those deceiving fruity concoctions packed a punch he wouldn’t soon forget.

He stared at the Hitched in Reno photo tossed on the nightstand and wondered how many souvenir cups it had taken for him to get so loopy that he’d thought saying wedding vows before God and a couple of character actors dressed in silver miners’ garb was a good plan.

But he looked beyond the Boomtown theme of the photo of him in his starched jeans and Kylie in her miniskirt, noting the matching smiles on their faces. They may have been three sheets to the wind, but they looked genuinely happy. Almost blissful.

He’d attended his share of weddings and, while many were joyful events, some had been clad in scandal or anger or forced circumstances. In this picture, though, he and Kylie were looking at each other with such unadulterated elation, he went through his catalog of memories to recall if he’d ever seen a couple look as happy on their wedding day as he and Kylie had.

He’d always had an idea of marriage in the back of his mind and knew he’d tie the knot someday. His father was a minister and often preached about honoring the vows of marriage. Maybe because he was old-fashioned or maybe because of his religious upbringing, Drew knew that when he finally settled down, it would be only once. In fact, right after graduate school, he’d thought Jessica could have potentially be the one. He’d wanted to take his time, draw out their courtship, because he needed to be positive that they were perfect for each other. Turned out Jessica hadn’t liked waiting for his decision.

After that, he’d vowed not to enter into any relationship—even a sexual one—with a woman without ensuring she was marriage material. He’d thought taking a break from women would be a simple test of mind over matter.

But now his self-imposed rule was being seriously tested as it never had been before. He looked down at the wedding photo and the attractive redhead in the too-tight outfit and too-high heels. Not that Drew believed in stereotypes of any kind, but Kylie didn’t look anything like the spouses of some of his esteemed colleagues. He remembered thinking she was stunning when he’d met her yesterday, even if her attire was not what one would describe as conventional. Then, this morning, when she’d dropped her sheet and he’d seen her in all her womanly glory, he’d had a difficult time looking away.

Despite his promise to himself, he struggled with the same carnal feelings that most people did. But up until now, he’d been able to control his emotions. Besides, living in battle-ready military installations around the world for the past few years had limited the potential for temptation, as his social interactions with single women who weren’t wearing unisex camouflage had been few and far between.

Yet Kylie’s style and personality were so animated and so colorful, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

The water in the bathroom shut off again and he braced himself for her to exit. They would have to come to terms with what they’d done.

The door opened and she held her freshly scrubbed face high, but even the oversize bathrobe couldn’t do much to diminish the endowments she’d been blessed with.

She leaned against the door frame, her green, makeup-free eyes squeezed tightly closed. “Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.”

“If you think I’m going to tell you that this wedding picture was just a joke, then I won’t tell you that.”

“How do you know?” She squinted one lid open, and he handed over the very official-looking marriage license. Sign, sealed and delivered.

She was a smart woman. Drew couldn’t recall how he knew this, but he remembered thinking it at some point last night. So he remained quiet and let her come to the inevitable conclusion.

“Wow.” She sank down to the floor, her long, shapely legs exposed as her knees poked through the gap in the white terry cloth.

He’d learned early on that to have effective communication with people, he needed to reach them on their level. So despite the queasiness in his own stomach, he gingerly lowered himself to floor beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wanting to comfort her. “I don’t know how it happened or why we did it, but it looks as though we’re married.”

She cupped her head in her hand while holding the license in the other. Her eyes traveled over the paper repeatedly, probably looking for some loophole or some hint that it wasn’t legitimate. Unfortunately, Drew knew they were staring at the real deal.

“But how can we be married when it says our only witnesses were two people who signed their names as Pistole Pepe and Maddog Molly?”

Drew handed over the wedding photo. “I think that guy with the long beard and miner’s hat is Pistole. This snarling woman holding the blue flowers like yours must be Molly.”

“God, my maid of honor was an overweight saloon girl with a missing tooth.”

“Maybe we should try to focus on the more important facts,” he suggested.

“Seriously? How can you not be worried about this?” The arched red brow made him think she didn’t like his suggestion. “You got totally wasted last night and forced a complete stranger to marry you. Who the hell knows what kind of fornication we committed in that bed right over there? Yet now you have the nerve to tell me that none of that is important?”

“Okay, let’s recap. One, I’m a doctor. A clinical psychologist, to be exact. My job is to look at the big picture.”

“But you’re performing the wedding. Don’t you have to be a preacher to do that?”

“Uh, no. Anyone can get certified online to do that. I owed Cooper a favor and he knows I hate public speaking.”

“Well, that explains that mystery.” She let out a sigh, then leaned her head back so quickly, it thunked against the wall.

“Can we get back to the current situation?” He waited for her to nod before continuing, “Two, I don’t think it’s in anybody’s best interests to keep a running tab of potential sins. Three, I might have been somewhat intoxicated, but judging by the smile on your face in that picture, I think we can safely say that nobody forced anybody to do anything last night. Four, I’m pretty sure that whatever might or might not have happened in that bed last night wouldn’t be considered fornication if we were technically married.”

Drew was a patient man, but he didn’t know if the woman collapsed in front of him was willing to listen to reasonable logic. How would he? He didn’t know her from Adam. Or Eve. But he did know that if Eve had looked anything like Kylie Chatterson, Drew didn’t blame Adam one bit for taking a bite of that cursed apple.

“I’ll concede points one through three,” she finally said. “But since you’re not a minister, then you’re clearly no expert on what might or might not constitute fornication.”

Wait, now she was annoyed that he wasn’t a minister? The lady needed to make up her mind, because he couldn’t win this game. “Are you an attorney?”

“No, I’m a CPA. When you talk in numbers to me, things make better sense.”

Drew would have to store that knowledge away for future use. “Listen, I’m just as confused and overwhelmed by this whole thing as you are. But I know that we have to keep our heads clear and our words civil if we’re going to get through this.”

She nodded, but her confused eyes still sought answers. “How can you be so calm? This can’t be great news for you, either, but you’ve yet to freak out.”

“Job hazard. I’m in the business of keeping calm when everything around me is blowing up. Literally.”