The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

Traveling private is the worst. I’m officially ruined when it comes to flying commercial.

We get to the bottom of the steps on the tarmac in New York to find six blacked-out SUVs waiting. We all say our goodbyes like we’re never going to see each other again, and everyone peels off into their waiting vehicles. The first one is for Jules and Leo. The second for Bennett and Efa. The third for Fisher, the fourth for Jack, the fifth for Byron.

“The last one is ours,” Worth says, as he pulls up the handle on my carry-on he just brought down the stairs.

My heart starts to thunder in my chest. Ours? We’ve known each other days. When did anything become ours?

“I thought we could talk on the way back to Jersey,” Worth says, his tone relaxed.

“You’re inviting yourself back to my poky little apartment?” I ask.

“No, I was going to see you home and head back to the city.”

My stomach swoops at the thought of him leaving me, but I’m not sure I want him to stay either. I’m a confusion of feeling. I left New York having spoken to this man only once. Two days later, I’m coming back married.

This is ridiculous.

“Oh,” I say.

“Let’s not overanalyze this,” he says. “I have a car. You need a ride.”

I bite my cheek, but in the end I can’t resist. “Debatable after last night.”

He raises his eyebrows and I laugh.

“Can’t a girl make a joke around here?” He’s right, we’re sharing a car, not picking out china.

We head to the car and slide into the back seat. There’s a privacy screen between us and the driver, which makes me feel a little more comfortable.

As the car pulls away, Worth slips his hand into mine. The flip-flop feeling in my stomach quiets.

“I had a good time,” I say, wanting to break the silence but unsure what to say.

Worth pulls in a breath like he’s about to make a confession. “Me too.” He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “I like you.” His phone vibrates, but he ignores it. “What do you say we go to dinner this week?”

“You’re asking your wife to dinner?” How is it possible that I’m someone’s wife? I suppose it’s just a legal technicality, but it feels so strange. “To discuss a divorce?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I want to spend time with you. Explore this a little.”

“This?”

“Us,” he says.

That word again. Us. Us. Us.

“Explore things… in case we want to stay married?” I ask.

“Maybe,” he says. “I don’t have any definitive answers for you, Sophia. All I know is that I look at you, and I don’t want to look anywhere else. I like that you’re a ballbuster, but you seem unsure about a lot of things all the time. You didn’t want to get married, but you married me. You’re a mass of contradictions, but I feel drawn to you in a way I can’t explain. And there’s no denying the sexual chemistry. The way I see it, we don’t have to make a decision about anything. So let’s not. Let’s sit with this. Let things evolve.”

I sigh. He makes it sound so easy, but I have a thousand questions. What do I tell my parents? Or my mom and my brothers? Do I wear a ring? Do I tell people?

“We don’t need to tell anyone,” he says. “It’s no one else’s business. And then we live life.”

“And date?” I ask. He nods, like it’s the easiest solution in the world. “Exclusively date?” I ask. I don’t want a slot on this man’s roster if I’m actually married to him.

He looks at me for a beat. “Of course. Why would I want to spend time with anyone else, when I can spend time with you?”

Joy and relief surge in my chest. How does he always say the right thing?noveldrama

I give a little shrug. “Okay, then. Let’s date. Exclusively. But can we look at the options around an annulment? Just so we’re aware.”

He nods. “I’ll speak to my lawyer.”

His phone vibrates again, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a woman—someone he sees regularly or just to scratch the itch. The guy is gorgeous, rich, and kind. Any woman would want Worth. They’d be fools not to.

“Do you need to get that?” I ask. “I mean, I’m not going to get mad if you want to tell her you got married in Vegas.”

His eyes catch on mine and he turns the phone screen toward me. “My sister Avril. She called me in Vegas to tell me she’s been placed on academic probation, despite having an IQ of one-sixty.” He sighs. “So I gotta go talk to the dean or make a donation to something.”

“You do? Why?” I ask.

“So she doesn’t get thrown out of Columbia.”

“But why is that your problem?”

“Because Avril makes it my problem.”

His body has tensed since he started talking. I don’t want to push it, but I still don’t get why it falls to him to clean up his sister’s mess.

I squeeze his hand and the car stops. I realize we’re outside my apartment building. “You want to stay?” I ask him.

His eyes search mine as if he’s trying to find the answer. “I do,” he says earnestly. “I’m just not sure I should. I don’t want to fuck this up by pushing too hard.”

I laugh. “Worth, we’re married. Staying over is no big deal.”

Besides, I want him to stay. We can start talking about divorce tomorrow.