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When I pick up the egg, he says, “Oh fuck no. I’m going to vomit just watching you.”

I crack the egg, separate the yolk, and add it in. I swirl it for good measure, hold it up like I’m giving a toast, and then shoot it down.

He definitely looks green as I swallow just as the Keurig beeps, and I grab the cup and take a sip of the scalding hot liquid to chase down the flavor.

“I feel better already,” I admit.

“Is it because it induces vomiting?” he asks.

I laugh. “No. It really works.”

He holds up a hand. “I’m good.”

“Enjoy your well-deserved hangover.”

“Well-deserved?” He gives me a look like my words hurt.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, man. Fuck you for what you orchestrated. I didn’t even realize it really happened until I saw the ring and all the missed calls and put two and two together. Ivy and I haven’t even talked about it yet.” I shake my head. “It’s all so…”

“Fucked. I’m sorry, man. I mean, I’m not sorry that it’ll take the headlines off me for a while, but I’m sorry you ended up married.”

“Who ended up married?” Ashley demands, walking into the room. She walks over to West and hugs his arm like they’ve been together for ages, not like she was a one-night stand. He may have a bit of an issue shaking this one off.

I can’t help but think he’s got it coming.

Maybe we’ll get the two of them married the next time we hit the town.

But first…we have to figure out what to do about the wedding that took place last night.

CHAPTER 13: Ivy Maddox

Too Soon

His bathroom is incredible, and his body wash smells like him.

I wish I could remember what happened last night.

I vaguely remember saying something about how it would be so funny if I got married before my brothers, who are all recently engaged or whatever. It feels like half my night is gone, though. I didn’t black out, and I don’t think I got sick…but I drank a lot more than I’m used to drinking.

I feel okay this morning except for the pounding headache. My stomach is a little off, but it’ll be fine.

I remember him kissing me. I remember it was magical. But somewhere after that is when things start to get hazy.

All I know is that I need to get to the office by nine thirty, or it’s just further evidence that I’m not grown up enough to be able to handle my shit.

It’s proof Everleigh was right—that I shouldn’t go out to a club at ten o’clock on a work night. I may be in my early twenties and able to shake off a hangover faster than everyone else who’s older than me, but that’s not proof that I’ll act responsibly.

And the ring on my finger makes me think I didn’t act responsibly last night.

Snippets of the night keep coming back to me, and while I haven’t looked at my phone yet to see if we have evidence somewhere, deep down I already know the truth.

And I’m not sure what to do about it.

We haven’t talked about it yet, but we can’t stay married. Obviously.

Still…if my siblings find out what I did, it’ll be more parenting from all of them. Little Ivy making drunken mistakes. Oh, that’s so Ivy. She’s so inexperienced and young. She’s not mature enough to go out drinking in Vegas. One of us should’ve been there supervising her.

Maybe they’re right.