Now that I was back at the Peppertree, it almost felt as if nothing had changed. Upon walking into the resort with my suitcase, I went straight upstairs to my suite, got cleaned up, put on my usual casual-professional style of clothing, pulled my hair back into a short ponytail, and got ready to get to work. Before heading downstairs to check in with my employees and do a walk-through, as usual, I decided it was probably a good idea to see what all I had missed.

I sat down at my desk and opened my email. There were several emails from the bank, from my lawyers. A couple emails from the Vegas chapel, with photos of the wedding. I had to laugh at one of the photos. I had the most panic-stricken look on my face as I clutched the cheap, last-second bouquet handed to me approximately fifteen seconds before I walked down the aisle. It was a pretty fitting photograph for the moment, since I had been both excited and scared out of my mind.

Then I sat down to check my work voicemail messages, wincing as I pressed the play button. I had a pretty strong feeling there were going to be some lengthy ones. I kept my cell phone number pretty private, only sharing it with friends and family, of which I had very few. The first messages were from confused employees, who had all received emails from the lawyers, as well, informing them that the Peppertree was coming under new management, and that their positions may or not be terminated or altered in the upcoming weeks. I cradled my face in my hands, my head pounding already.

“Fantastic. That’s just what they need. A lawyer cryptically warning them that they might lose their jobs at any second,” I groaned. For people so caught up with the nitty-gritty details, these lawyers sure seemed to lack common sense.

“Ms. Simmons, this is Lauren. I-I’m a line cook in the lodge restaurant, if you don’t remember me. I received a very worrisome email from someone named Jim Foster who says he’s an attorney,” sobbed one of the female employees from the kitchen staff. “It says I might get fired. I’m really confused and scared. Did I do something wrong? Is this because I spilled that wine on a customer a week ago? I promise it was an accident. I can do better, I swear. What’s going on? I asked Marco from the cleaning staff where to find you and he said you were gone. What does that mean? Where did you go? Everyone’s calling you but you’re not answering--”

Beep. The rest of her message was cut off. The next message began.

“Hey, Ms. Simmons. This is Marco Ruiz, and I’m calling because my staff are all freaking out over these emails the lawyers sent us. I’m sure it was probably just some kind of bad mix-up, but I wanted to talk to you and get the story straight so my employees can relax. Some of them are threatening to quit before you can fire them, but I’m doing my best to keep everybody calm. Please call me back as soon as you can. Thanks.”

Beep.

“Is it true? Haley, this is Kat. Please pick up. I heard something from one of the maids about you running off to Las Vegas with some guy? The guy who was staying in that special Presidential suite? She’s just making that up, right? I told her to stop spreading stupid rumors but she swore on her grandmother’s life that it’s true. And then I got that email from Mr. Foster and I got worried. Can you just answer and tell me what’s happening? Did the bank finally screw us over like you thought they might? Please answer me.”

Beep. I listened to about fifteen or sixteen messages, all from my employees, begging to know if their jobs were in danger and if I had absconded out of state. Just when I had finished playing through every painful second of recordings, there was a sharp knock at the door. I hurried across the room and opened the door to see a couple of the maids standing there with dubious expressions on their faces.

“So it’s tru.! You’re back from Vegas!” exclaimed one of them. The other, who was a little older, nudged her in the ribs.

“Tanya, we weren’t supposed to mention that,” she said through gritted teeth. Then, looking at me, she added, “Did you sell the Peppertree? Are we all going to lose out jobs?”

“No, Kendra,” I sighed. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Nobody’s losing their job, okay? Everything is fine. There have been some… legal changes, but nothing you all should worry about. I promise. Just carry on like normal, please.”

“But what about that awful email we all got?” chirped Tanya.

“That was a mistake on Mr. Foster’s part. I will definitely talk to him about that. He should not have involved all of you,” I assured her.

“But the newspaper this morning said some guy bought the Peppertree,” Kendra protested. “And it wasn’t a tabloid. It was the real news.”

“It’s complicated,” I told her. “It’s not what you think. Either way, it won’t affect you at all, I swear.”

“So you didn’t just marry that hot guy who was staying next door?” Tanya piped up, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. When had my own employees gotten so suspicious of me suddenly? My jaw dropped. How the hell did they know about that?

“Oh my God. That’s why you went to Vegas,” breathed Kendra. Her eyes went wide.

“How romantic,” gasped the younger girl. Kendra scoffed.

“Romantic? Vegas? Please,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. Then she looked right at me, realizing her mistake. Her face went pale. “Oh God. I’m sorry. That was such a bitchy thing to say. I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay,” I laughed. “A Vegas wedding isn’t particularly romantic to me, either, but between you and me… we just couldn’t wait much longer. You know?” I said, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Both girls looked utterly enthralled, full to bursting with the fresh, hot gossip I had just granted them.

“Holy crap, you did marry the hot guy,” Tanya squealed. “Good job, Ms. Simmons!”

“Yeah, congratulations. We were all drooling over him when he was at the restaurant,” giggled the older girl. “I guess we shouldn’t talk about him like that anymore, though, since he’s your husband now. Swoon.”

“Mmhmm. Yep. My new husband,” I agreed. I nodded and forced myself to smile even though I was starting to feel awfully guilty. These poor girls were romanticizing the hell out of a situation they knew nothing about, but I couldn’t tell them the truth and risk shattering the illusion. It was better for everyone if they believed the cover story about Chase and I just being so head over heels in love that we needed to get married right away. Never mind the exchange regarding the Peppertree and an heir to the Hawthorne legacy.

“So now that the cat’s out of the bag, can we talk about it with everyone else?” asked Kendra. Her eyes were gleaming with excitement. I decided to throw her a bone.

“Sure. Go for it. Just make sure it doesn’t distract from work, okay?” I told her.

Now that I had listened to all my work voicemails, I figured it was high time to turn my personal cell phone back on. I had turned it off when we were en route to Vegas and kept it off because, to be quite honest, I was not looking forward to all the concerned phone calls I would inevitably be receiving. And sure enough, as soon as I plugged in my phone and turned it on, the screen flashed and the whole thing vibrated for about six solid minutes with text messages and missed calls.

“Wonderful,” I mumbled to myself. I grabbed a little bottle of over-the-counter pain medication and popped a few pills. My headache was already raging, and I knew turning on my cell phone and opening myself up to the ridicule, curiosity, and possible anger of those close to me was absolutely going to make it worse. There were about twenty text messages from my mother and ten from my best friend, Beverly. I read through them and my heart nearly stopped when I saw that she had sent me a link.

I clicked it and a story on an online news site pulled up. “Oh my God,” I breathed, staring at the headline.

“I am so screwed,” I muttered, scanning through the article.

The news story focused mainly on Chase, since he was much more famous than my family was. I was grateful for that. Chase was accustomed to his name in the papers. I was not. At least, not these days. When my father was still alive, we were fairly well-known in our region of Colorado, but nowadays I was more or less a nobody, and I rather liked it that way. Of course, now that my name was associated with Chase’s, things were sure to change.

I was no longer just the unfortunate daughter of Geoffrey Simmons, I was the mysterious new wife of America’s most eligible bachelor, Chase Hawthorne. I gulped, realizing that I would have to brace for the inevitable jealousy and cruelty people can hurl at the girlfriends and wives of attractive, wealthy, well-known men. It was going to be a lifestyle change, for certain. I only hoped I could learn how to handle it.

My cell phone started ringing at top volume and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Geez,” I mumbled. “Why am I so damn jumpy?”

I reached to answer it, almost afraid to look at the caller ID.

It was my mother. Of course. With some hesitation, I answered the call.

“Haley Marie Simmons,” she greeted me grimly. She enunciated every syllable of my full name, which was never a good sign. “Where in the world have you been?”

“I’m sorry, Mom. Things have been really crazy lately and I had to turn off my cell phone for a while, but I promise I wasn’t avoiding you,” I rambled quickly.

“Then why would you turn off your phone?” she asked, the coldness in her voice replaced by what she was really feeling: worry. “I was worried sick, sweetheart! I was thinking something horrible must have happened to you because why else would you ignore my calls that way? You scared the life out of me. You know I worry about you all the time, especially after what happened to your father. Accidents happen all the time, honey, and I just thought maybe something awful happened to you.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” I assured her.

“Oh, I know that now. Beverly sent me a link to this news article on the Internet all about how you got married to some guy,” she told me. My heart sank. Uh oh.

“Well, about that.”

“At first I thought it was just some dumb practical joke,” she interrupted. “But then I started reading the article and it dawned on me that I recognized the name Chase Hawthorne. He was your boyfriend back in college, wasn’t he? The one who broke your heart? You used to call me crying when he dumped you, talking about how sad you were. Remember that?”

“Yes, Mom. Of course I remember that,” I sighed.

“And now suddenly, out of the blue, you’re married to him?” my mother exclaimed. “Pardon me, Haley, but that sounds like a load of crap to me!”

“It’s not that bad. I promise. We’re both different people now. The past is in the past. It’s all just fine. I’m fine. I-I’m happy,” I tried to convince her. She scoffed.

“Right. Well, however it happened, I’m glad you’re happy. But how could you?” she said accusingly. I waited, thinking she would continue.

“How could I, what?” I asked, confused.

“Get married,” she burst out. “In Vegas. In some shabby little chapel. How come you didn’t tell me you were dating Chase again? How come you didn’t invite me to your wedding? I know we haven’t been quite as close as we were when you were younger, but you’re my daughter and I love you, Haley. It breaks my heart that you got married in secret.”

I could hear the tears in her voice, and it made me feel horrible. “Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry. It was just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, you know? I never meant to hurt you or anyone else. I promise. It wasn’t a secret, it was just… well, it happened so fast.”

“Well, when do I get to meet him?” she asked suddenly. I felt nauseous.

“You’ve met him before. Remember? He came home for winter break one year while we were dating,” I told her quickly.

“Well, yes, but you were just dating then. Now you’re married. And a lot of time has passed since then. He’s your husband now. My son-in-law. I want to meet him. Have a proper family dinner, you know,” she suggested. Her worry was swiftly turning into excitement, which was an improvement, but still more than I cared to deal with at the moment. Then my phone beeped, informing me that I had another call coming in, this time from Beverly.

“Look, can I call you back? Beverly is calling me,” I pleaded.

“What? But we just started talking.”

“I know, I know, but Beverly has called me a jillion times and I need to tell her what’s going on. She’s worried, too, I think,” I admitted. God, I felt like such a jerk.

“Fine. Go answer her. But you have to call me back, Haley,” she sighed.

“Okay. Got it. I will. Love you, Mom. Bye,” I told her hastily. I clicked the other line to answer the new call. “Beverly. Hi.”

“What the hell, Haley?” she demanded.

“I know.”

“Do you? Do you know?” Beverly exclaimed. “You got married? To Chase freakin’ Hawthorne of all people, and you didn’t think it was necessary to call me and let me know?”

“Look, I just got this same lecture from my mother,” I groaned, sitting down on the bed.

“I’m sure you did. She’s been pestering me for more information but I didn’t know what to tell her. So, it’s true? You really did get married to Chase?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s true,” I confessed.

Beverly whistled. “Wow. That is… insane. How did that even happen? Didn’t he, like, super break your heart in college?”

“Yes. Yes, he did,” I confirmed. “I kind of wish people would stop bringing that up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Haley? I could’ve been the best maid of honor ever.”

I smiled. “I know. You would have. But it happened so quickly. We just couldn’t wait to have a normal wedding. We wanted to be together immediately,” I told her, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue.

“I can’t decide if that’s crazy or romantic.”

“How about both?” I suggested.

She laughed. “Sure. Both. Well, I can’t say I’m not still a little pissed that I had to find out about my best friend’s wedding from the Internet, but congratulations. If you’re happy, I’m happy. You are happy, right?”

“Yes. Very happy,” I agreed hastily.

“Damn. The new Mrs. Chase Hawthorne. Who would’ve thought it?” she mused.

“You’re telling me. It still hasn’t totally sunken in yet,” I told her honestly.

“You’ll get there,” she assured me. I hoped she was right. “Anyway, I’m sure you have a honeymoon or something you’re supposed to be jetting off to right now, so I won’t hold you up too long.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed. “I’ll talk to you later and give you more details, okay?”

“You better!” she laughed. We hung up, and I sat on the bed, staring off into space.

My heart sank even lower. It was hitting me just how abnormal this marriage was. Of course we didn’t have a honeymoon. This marriage was all about business. It was just a deal, nothing more. One year of pretending and it would be over. But everyone around me was ecstatic, making a huge deal out of it. I wondered how long the guilt would eat away at me. If it was going to feel like such a painful lie the whole time, then this was going to be one long year.