His hands on his belt buckle stilled as his gaze jerked to me. “What?”
“It’s the only thing that explains this.”
He shook his head, finishing with his belt. “That doesn’t explain this. First of all, no one in their right mind would marry two people who were incoherently drunk.”
I arched a brow. “We’re in Las Vegas, Max.”
“Even so, there would have to be paperwork, right? A marriage license. Marriage certificate.”
He pulled the ring from his finger and tossed it onto the pillow. I had no illusions that Max and I were going to have some great love affair. Still, it hurt a little bit the way he yanked the ring off and tossed it away.
Even so, he was right. I pulled the ring from my finger and leaned over to set it on the side table. That’s when I saw the papers. I scooted closer to the side table and picked them up, studying them. “Oh, God.”
“What?” Max rounded the bed, buttoning his shirt.
I held the papers up. “Marriage license and certificate.”
He snatched the papers out of my hand, and again the force of it and the look on his face made me flinch.
His gaze moved from the paper to me. “Is this some sort of joke?” He tossed the papers on the bed, much like he had done with the ring.
Incensed, I stood up, gripping the sheet around me even tighter. It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago, I was wrapped up in this man. “You think I did this?”
“The proof is in the papers, sweetheart.”
I was shocked at his derision. I wished I were fully dressed because I felt vulnerable in just the sheet. But maybe it was just as well because if my hands were free, I might’ve slapped him. “Your signature is on there as well, slick.”
He reached over, picking up the papers again, looking at the signature line. For a moment, he stood, looking utterly confused. The anger and accusation dissipated as he sank down onto the bed. “We’ll be able to get this annulled.”
“Being drunk doesn’t constitute being incapacitated to get an annulment in Las Vegas.”
“Sounds like you have experience with this.” A hint of his derision returned.
“This is Vegas, Max. I know about gambling and showgirls, but that doesn’t mean I gamble and dance.”
He set the paper on the bed and scraped his hand over his face again. “Not being able to read or understand what I was signing would be a reason to grant an annulment, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose, but I don’t remember reading or signing it either, and I’m not so sure that being too drunk to read and sign will work.”
He turned to look at me, and for the first time, I saw vulnerability in him. Like he was going to confess something he wanted to keep a secret. “I have dyslexia. It’s often hard enough to read legal papers when I’m sober. I can’t imagine I could do it drunk.”
I was no lawyer, but his reasoning made sense to me. I sat on the bed next to him.
He looked at his watch. “Fuck.” He turned to look at me. “I don’t have a lot of time before I need to catch my flight.” He shook his head. “I guess I could take a later flight. I can move my schedule around.”
“I’m not sure how to go about this in the first place. Why don’t you let me research and get whatever paperwork we need, and once it’s together, I can let you know? Maybe we can do this long distance and you don’t need to return to Las Vegas.”
He nodded. “But if I do need to be here, I can come.”
I hadn’t thought much about being married since I left the romanticism of fairy tales behind me when I was a teenager. But I never could have imagined that on my wedding day, my husband would be eager to divorce me.