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Admittedly, I haven’t called anyone back yet. But when I see my mom calling for the seventh time, I know I can’t hold her off any longer.

You don’t ignore your mother…even when you really, really want to.

“Hey, Ma,” I answer.

“My baby boy. Is it true?”

My chest aches.

I’m an idiot.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Long story, but yes.”

“You’re married?” There’s more excitement and less disappointment in her tone than I was expecting.

“I guess I am.”

“Oh, Cash. Congratulations, honey. When can I meet the girl who finally stole my boy’s heart?”

I grind my teeth together for a beat. Hell, I just met her. And now I’m supposed to introduce her to my mom? How am I supposed to admit that nobody has stolen my heart when she sounds so excited? “You’re not mad that I did it without you there to witness it?”

“Mad? No. A little sad I missed out, but not mad. I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Yeah, about that…

Honestly, I don’t know if I’m happy. I don’t know what I am right now besides overwhelmed by the number of people I need to call back.

But I don’t want to admit that to my mom.

She’s firmly planted in the marriage is sacred column. She’d never be okay with me getting married because of a bet with West. But even I’m not entirely convinced at this point that the bet is why I did it. I can’t quite get a grip on what the fuck my motivation was if it wasn’t two hundred thousand dollars, though. Tequila, maybe.

“It sort of just happened. She was wearing a white dress, and we’d been drinking—”

“Oh, Cash. Don’t tell me this was some drunken mistake and now it’s all over the headlines.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” I hate lying to my mom. It’s exactly like that.

She’s seen enough headlines about me over the years.

I wonder if I can convince Ivy to just…I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m thinking.

If we can make this work for a year or so.

It’s a totally ridiculous notion. I don’t even know why the thought crosses my mind, but there it is.

I can’t. She’s a Bradley. She’s from the family that nearly cost me everything. And now I’m married into it? Her father’s a bigger mess than I am.

“Bring her home to me,” she says. “Let me meet her.”

“You know I’ll buy you a ticket to come down here any time.”

“And you know July in Vegas isn’t my preferred weather,” she shoots back.

I laugh. “Touché. It’s not mine, either.”

“I’ll come see you when next season gets underway, but while you’re in the offseason, I’d love to meet her. The photo online is, well…you two make a very handsome couple.”

“Thanks, Ma.”