He nods. “But you go first.”

“Okay.” Hmmm … What to tell. What to tell. “I like warm, sunny days. They always make me think of musicals, which makes me want to skip and sing. And usually I do.”

“Okay, sunny days are good. Got it.” He considers what to tell me. “I hate the taste of strawberries.”

“Are you kidding me? Strawberries are amazing.”

“No way. They’re too sweet and too sour at the same time. And they’re soft, but the black things on the outside are crunchy,” he argues passionately. “It confuses my taste buds. Seriously, either be one or another, not both.”

“Okay, I guess no strawberries and champagne on our honeymoon then.” I wink at him then tap my finger against my lip. “Okay, here’s one. I once ate a piece of chewed gum on a dare.”

“Um, okay … That’s a little weird.” His eyes are wide. “Whose chewed gum was it?”

I shrug. “I found it on a public restroom floor.”

He dry heaves, covering his mouth. “Okay, give me a moment to process that one.”

“It was strawberry flavored,” I say for no apparent reason. “And, if you think that’s gross, then you should probably know that I once dropped my driver’s license in a toilet at a club and reached in to get it out.”

He coughs again, shakes his shoulders, and blinks a few times. “All right, moving on,” he says after collecting himself. “I’m terrified of peacocks.”

“Why? Their feathers are so pretty and majestic.”

“Do you know how easy it is for a small child to get surrounded by them and not be able to find his way out because he’s scared out of his damn mind?” he says, getting worked up. “And no one can find him for over an hour, and he keeps trying to scream for help, but the damn peacocks keep screaming over him. And they sound like a human crying for help. It makes no sense, because they’re birds. It’s like they knew I needed help and wanted to torment me.”

I struggle not to laugh at how intense he’s gotten over birds. “Did that happen to you?”

He nods, his expression dead serious. “At a petting zoo when I was four. My parents couldn’t find me for over an hour.”

“Aw, you poor baby.” I pat his head. “If it makes you feel any better, I once got stuck in a slide at a park, and my friend had to call 911. It was so embarrassing. The police showed up and everything.”

“I’m sure kids do stuff like that all the time.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t a kid. It was two years ago, and I was only wearing pants.”

His forehead furrows. “Why were you only wearing pants?”

I shrug. “Because I declared it was no shirts Friday and that anyone wearing a shirt should be forced to make-out with No Pants Wearing Willie, this guy who lived in the park by my apartment, who was always trying to sell us paper mâché penises.” When Evan gives me a baffled look, I add, “What? I was drunk, okay? And No Pants Wearing Willie was actually a pretty nice guy when he wasn’t being a total pervert.”

Evan grows silent for a tremendously long time, and I start to worry I’ve scared him off, but then he finally smiles. “I’m afraid of fish. And people that have fish mouths.”

“What are fish mouths?”

He puckers his lips, leans forward, and gives me a hickey on my neck. By the time he pulls back, we’re both laughing like lunatics.

After that, things get a little hazy, but I have the faintest memory of Evan and I laughing through our vows while standing in a chapel with a bedazzled jeweled ceiling, and “Careless Whisper” by George Michael playing in the background.

I scramble to get my clothes on then tiptoe out of the bedroom, banging my shin on the way out. The hall is way too crowded for it being so early, and I end up doing the walk of shame while hugging my shoes to my chest. Once I stumble onto the elevator, I blow out a breath as I slide to the floor.

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe I got married last night.” I shake my head at myself. “And in a chapel that had candy canes lining the aisle and an officiator dressed up like Santa.”

“It happens to the best of us, honey,” a middle-aged woman in the elevator with me says. “Don’t worry, though, getting it annulled is as easy as putting on pantyhose.”

For me, pantyhose has never been easy to put on—the whole slipping your legs into skin tight material while trying not to rip the thin material never seemed to work for me. But I am curious …

“How many times have you done it?”

“Six,” she answers. “I almost stayed married to the fifth husband, but then he bought this furry bear costume and told me it was a fantasy of his. I was cool with wearing the body part, but that mask …” She shudders. “It was just too sweaty and smelled like broccoli.” She sighs as the elevator comes to a stop. “After I couldn’t go through with it, things were never the same between us, and I had to let him go.” The doors glide open, and she steps off. “You take care, honey. And remember, no matter what happens, there’s always husband number two and three and four—” The doors glide shut, cutting her off.

A breath escapes my lips. Holy shit, is that where I’m heading? To fleeting marriages, annulments, and bear costumes?

“No … no, no, no.” I lower my head into my hands. “I can fix this.”

I just have to go back to Evan’s room and tell him last night was a mistake.

Chapter 12

I can’t go through with it. And not just because I’m a big fat chicken.

I keep replaying Evan’s proposal in my head, how I was nice to him when no one else was. From what I can remember, he was pretty emotional about it.

Then I start to worry that maybe he doesn’t even remember marrying me. By the time I make it out of the elevator, I’ve psyched myself out. Instead of going back to Evan’s room, I go to mine. Thankfully, Emersyn is in the shower when I sneak in, so I’m able to pack my bags and hurry out without crossing paths with her.

I wander around the city until Carrie Lynn texts me, wondering where I am. I’m not even sure how she got my number and how hers is entered in my phone, but my bet is I did it sometime last night and just can’t remember.

Carrie Lynn: The schedule says we should be driving home by now! Where are you?

Me: Sorry! Went shopping and lost track of time!

Then I give her my location so they can come pick me up. I’m so nervous I have pit stains by the time the SUV parks beside the curb. Evan starts to get out, but I dive into the middle seat and slam the door.

“I want to hold my bag!” I shout in a panic, hugging my bag tightly against my chest.

“Okay?” Carrie Lynn stares at me with a perplexed look before drawing her oversized sunglasses over her eyes and slumping back in the seat. “I don’t care what you do, just as long as you don’t yell like that again. I’m so hungover.”

Her friends all nod in agreement then put on their sunglasses.

From the passenger seat, Emersyn dubiously eyes me over, and I swear her gaze lingers on the ring on my finger.

I subtly tuck my hand behind my bag, wondering if she knows.

“Are we good to go?” Evan asks as he slides back into the driver’s seat without so much as glancing at me.

Hmmm … Maybe he doesn’t remember. Or maybe he does, and he’s just playing it cool, unlike me, who sputters, “Yeah, we’re good! Totally cool. You and I. Just like the weather. Did you know it’s seventy-two degrees out right now and sunny? It’s perfect for skipping. And singing.” I shake my head at myself. Get a grip on yourself, woman! He’s only a man!

Evan glances over his shoulder at me, appearing confused. “Um, thanks for the weather update, I guess.”

Um, okay … Maybe he really doesn’t remember. At least it doesn’t seem that way. And now I’m the one who’s going to have to break it to him that he’s hitched to a crazy girl who blabbers a lot, is very scatter-brained, and once got stuck in a rotating door for ten minutes. Great.