Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Or anything at all except a ton of poker chips.
I pressed my forehead to my door and let out a whimper.
“Been there,” someone said as they passed.
Okay.
It was okay.
I could fix… all of this.
But first… coffee.
CHAPTER FOUR
I walked up to the cashier, dropping a pile of my chips in front of her.
She took pity on my evident misery and kept her voice low.
“How do you want to cash out?”
“Cash, please,” I said, mentally ticking one thing off my list.
Cash.
Then coffee.
Food.
Phone.
Lawyer.
“There’s a great café right down there,” the cashier told me after she finished cashing me out. She nodded behind me.
“Bless you,” I said, getting a knowing smile from her.
Each step felt like it sapped more energy as the chimes from various slot machines made my headache ramp up again, the sounds like icepicks to the brain as I passed.
Despite there being no windows in the casino, everything felt too bright, making my eyes narrow.
As I passed through the bar in the lobby, my stomach rolled at the scent of liquor flowing so early in the morning.
I was never drinking again.
My gaze slid to the side, looking at the tables.
And for just a second, there was a flash. A memory from the night before, all blurry around the edges, but there.
Standing at the blackjack table with Harrison’s body right behind mine, his hand draped possessively around my waist, his face pressed to the side of mine.
“I suck at blackjack,” I admitted, voice bright, cheerful, but not slurring, not drunk. Maybe, at that point, just feeling good.
It wasn’t a lie.
I had absolutely no luck at a blackjack table. I’d lost many thousands trying to get better. To no avail. I didn’t even try anymore.
Except, it seemed, the night before.
The memory tightened, sharpened into focus. Cards being dealt, decisions being made.
Then, the dealer announcing, “Twenty-one.”
I’d… won.
“You must be good luck,” I told Harrison, turning my head and accepting a quick, sweet kiss from him.
“Ugh,” I grumbled, forcing myself to keep walking through.
Some part of me wanted to bury my head in the sand, let the whole night before fall away to oblivion.
The other part knew that remembering might help put the whole thing in context. Or, at the very least, reassure me that the wedding was the only mistake I’d made.
I made my way into the café, mentally grumbling at the line, but finally, finally getting a large cup and moving to a table where I all but fell into the seat.
The coffee was hot—blessedly so—burning just enough on the way down to pull me back into my body. The too-sweet sugar and caramel exploded across my taste buds, a little moment of joy in a rough morning.
For just a moment, nothing else mattered.
Not the unfamiliar hotel room.
Not the ache behind my eyes.
Not the heavy, unsettling weight of my mistakes.
Just the warmth spreading through my chest, the steady comfort of caffeine working a quiet miracle.
The panic that had been circling me since I’d opened my eyes softened a bit at the edges, retreating just enough to give me space to think.
Coffee didn’t fix things, I knew that, but it helped make them feel just a tad more survivable.
I finished my cup and got another to go, knowing it was going to be a day that required caffeine constantly circling my bloodstream.
Then I made my way to the front desk.
“Could I possibly use the phone?” I asked. “I can’t find mine.”
“Of course,” the man said, giving me an understanding smile.
And, God, I hated being a Vegas cliché.
But there was no mistaking it.
So I reached for the phone and plugged in my number.
“What…” I said when my ringtone sounded from somewhere behind the desk.
The clerk reached under, pulling out a phone in a familiar black and red case.
“Oh, thank God,” I said, practically lunging at it.
That was two things off my list.
Next up?
Food.
After food, I was reasonably sure I could handle the lawyer and all their uncomfortable questions.
I made my way through the casino, ignoring all the many options for food.
I’d eaten at just about all of them in my day. None of them offered what someone dealing with a major hangover needed.
Grease.
All the deep-fried greasy goodness.
That was the only thing that worked for me.
So I made my way out of the casino and nearly cried at the desert sun pelting down on me.
On a grumble, I made my way back inside and up, stopping at the sunglass store, grabbing a pair, then making my way back down.
“Why is everything a pain in the ass today?” I grumbled to myself as I made my way back outside.
Fast food was never hard to find, and the scent of greasy fries met my nose as soon as I let myself inside and made a beeline for the counter.
I guess I could be glad that I’d slept in because the menu had shifted to lunch, and I ordered myself a large fry, a burger, and a large box of nuggets. The milkshake? That was purely for comfort.