during the night. I certainly had enough brain cells to ogle, which I did unabashedly.
“Katy posted a photo of our wedding on Facebook and tagged me. Looked like we were saying our vows.”
Liam paused as he slid his shirt on, covering all the lean muscles I’d had the fortune of memorizing. “How did she even get a photo of us?”
That was a thought. Against my better judgement, I opened my phone again and looked more closely at the photo. “Looks like it was taken from the seats. So, she snuck the photo. Bitch.” It held none of the heat I felt.
“Well, fuck.”
“Yeah.” I rolled to my back, not caring how filthy the hotel carpet likely was. I stared up at the ceiling. “How am I going to explain this to my parents and my brother?”
My phone rang again, and I flipped it over without looking at it.
“That’s a good question.” He ran his hand down his face. First thing in the morning Liam looked good. He looked haggard in a sexy way—if that was even possible. “What do you want to do?”
“Honestly? I want to turn off my phone and pretend that Katy didn’t post a photo of us—a contraband photo at that—and do anything except deal with this.”
Liam crouched in front of me. “It’s a good idea, in theory. But your family has seen a photo of you marrying a man they don’t know. They will need some reassurances from you, so they don’t have the police hunt you down for a wellness check.”
“Ugh, why do you have to be so sensible?” I groaned again. “What do I even say to them? ‘LOL, jk, didn’t get married. See ya in a few days’?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Why not? It’s straight to the point. Also, untag yourself from Katy’s photo, to limit the exposure.”
“I’m going to block her,” I said with energy I didn’t know I possessed, tapping over to Katy’s profile and untagging myself. I’d never been so happy to block someone on social media.
Then I clicked over to my texts. My mom’s took precedence, mostly because she’d sent me four texts alone.
Mom: Tori, are you okay?
Mom: Who is that man in that photo on Facebook?
Mom: Please, answer your phone!
Mom: Don’t tell me you got married.
I rolled my head back and forth, as if limbering up would be needed to respond to the barrage of messages before me.
I settled on something brief.
It was a joke. I’m not married. Still single. I’ll be in Vegas a few more days. Talk soon. Love you.
Brief, and cowardly. It wasn’t that I was afraid to explain away the photo. I just didn’t want to get on the phone with my mom, to listen to her cry about my dad.
Speaking of him, I saw his messages and decided not to even bother. Mom would tell him, I was sure. I sent a similar message to Hollis and then James’s message was next.
James: Jesus Christ, Tori. You’re a trainwreck.
If the circumstances had been different, I might have replied to that with something witty and equally condescending. But I didn’t feel like cracking jokes at his expense.
Sometimes. See you in a few days.
It was even more brief than the message to my mom. The phone rang as I started to type out a reply to Bekka—and it was Bekka herself calling me.
“I’m so sorry,” she said the moment I said hi.
“It’s not your fault.” I pinched the skin between my eyebrows. “When are you and Lauren heading to the airport?”
“In about thirty minutes. Are you still in the hotel? Want us to bring your stuff to you?”
“No. I’ll come get my luggage.” I’d have to figure out what to do after that. “Sorry I missed breakfast.”
Bekka barked a laugh. “You didn’t miss it. Trust me. Katy kept us up all night moaning and vomiting. She was feeling pretty sorry for herself this morning.”
“Good.” It gave me little comfort, though. The damage was already done. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
After hanging up, Liam leaned over me and helped pull me to my feet. “You’re going back to your room?”
“I have to get my stuff and then figure out what I’m doing next.”
“Besides the broad plan of staying in Vegas?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my knuckles under my eyes. I didn’t have clothes, I realized. Just this oversized shirt I’d borrowed from Liam. I’d have to change back into the cocktail dress and do a pseudo-walk of shame back to the room.