Jack squinted against the bright morning light. It poured into the room and lit up the unfamiliar bed. The strange sheets that smelled of vanilla.

Shit. It wasn’t the first time this had happened.

For him, there was a fine line between really tipsy and drinking so much that he didn’t remember.

You’d think after thirty years of life—and fifteen years of drinking—you’d figure it out.

His head roared. It wasn’t the first time he’d been blackout drunk, but it was the first time in a couple of years.

He shifted under the duvet and realized he was at least wearing boxers. But nothing else. Jack glanced around the room, mostly white with a distressed vintage dresser in the corner. The back of a propped-open laptop revealed a yoga sticker and outline of California.

At least I’m still in Tahoe City, he thought.

But something seemed off. The entire room glistened like a gem. It took him a moment to realize it was glitter, all over the place. By some miracle, he recognized his phone on the bedside table.

Please don’t be dead, he thought. There was fifteen percent battery and a string of angry texts from an unknown number. As he rolled away, he jumped at the sight of the half-dressed girl beside him.

Addison. Addy. It all came back to him in a rush, like being smacked in the face by a wave of memories.

He remembered being at the bar. He remembered talking and flirting with Addison, that it soon crossed the line into taking shots and full on hitting on her. But that didn’t explain what they were doing here, or where here was. He looked her over for clues.

She was sprawled out on her back, her head turned to the side and her long hair covering her face. One pale pink nipple had slipped out the top of her bra. He felt himself harden at the sight of her full breasts. These were curves he didn’t remember.

But he pushed the thought aside and pulled the blanket up to cover her. She didn’t budge, and her breathing remained deep and heavy.

Jack pushed himself up, shaded his eyes, and looked around the room. Where the hell were they? He’d thought it was her bedroom, but upon closer inspection he realized by the frosting-pink décor it was more like a hotel. They were surrounded by several empty bottles of champagne.

That explains why I’m so goddamned hungover.

Jack lurched from the bed and staggered to the bathroom. As he leaned his hand against the wall over the toilet and started to relieve himself, he glanced down and nearly pissed all over the place. On his left hand was a shiny titanium ring.

Jack pulled it off and started to inspect it.

“Oh, no,” he said. “No, no, Jesus, no.” He raced back into the bedroom and reached under the covers for Addison’s hand.

She groaned into the room. “What are you doing?” she asked, still half-asleep.

“Wake up, I need to see your hand.”

“What’s wrong with my hand?” she asked groggily. “No, it’s my head that hurts—”

“We have bigger things to worry about.” He finally found her hand and felt the cool metal on her ring finger. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“What is this?” he asked, and held her hand up to her face.

“Shh! Oh my God,” she murmured and pulled the pillow over her face.

“Look, you’ve got to help me out—”

Addison sat up.

“Oh, God,” she said, and jumped out of the bed. He watched her as she raced to the toilet in nothing but her underwear. Violent retching and vomiting sounds came from the bathroom, and his doctor training took over.

Jack grabbed a couple of towels, her hair tie from the bedside table, and filled a glass of water.

“Vomiting is good,” he called to her. “Get it all out.”

“I don’t feel so good,” she said when she had eventually gotten it all out of her system.

She emerged from the doorway, one of the hotel bathrobes wrapped around her slender frame. She looked like a child playing dress-up.

“I’m right there with you,” he said. “Come here, sit down.”

He arranged a comfortable spot on the chaise lounge and pushed the water into her hand. She mildly pushed him away as he pulled her hair into a ponytail, but he tsked until she relented.

“Sorry I puked,” she said, sheepish.

“I work in the ER. A little vomit doesn’t really bother me,” he said.

As he looked at her with her bloodshot eyes and dark circles underneath, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Of the two of them, she clearly got the worse end of the bargain.

“You want to stay sitting up?” he asked. “Or go back to bed?”

“Back to bed,” she said.

He tucked her in and went to the bathroom to refill the water. As he filled the glass, he took a second to himself. He looked at the gold band on his fourth finger of his left hand, held it up a little to examine it.

The fact that he’d had a wedding, that he’d blown through another milestone in his life without any attention paid, made him feel sad. Not that he’d always imagined getting married or anything. That was more his mother’s obsession.

But every major milestone that he passed was just another without his father, the only parent that had genuinely cared for him. Yeah, his father could be a hard master, punishing Jack mercilessly for even the smallest failure.

But looking at himself now, Jack could see why his father had rode him so hard. He just wanted Jack to be successful.

The glass overflowed, and Jack was pulled from his thoughts. When he returned, Addy had rolled herself up in the blanket like a burrito.

“Addison?” he asked, but was answered with more heavy breaths.

His phone rang and she groaned in annoyance. He didn’t recognize the number.

Fuck, I’m supposed to start at urgent care today. It was the hospital, it had to be. Jack searched for an answer, a believable excuse. But for the first time in his life, he had nothing.

Philip. Philip will know what to do.

He let the call go to voicemail and immediately called Philip. As he searched for how to start the most awkward conversation of his life, he stepped onto the small patio.

“Congrats, mister married man!” Philip crowed into the phone.

He pulled the phone farther away from his ear and winced. “What?”

“Didn’t you get married last night?”

“I … I think so?”

“Yeah, you were really trashed last night. I told you that Reno was too far to go—”

“Reno?”

“Yeah, I tried to tell you, but you and Addy were insistent. Don’t you remember? I put you guys in a taxi and gave that guy a generous tip. A really generous tip.”

“What … what about today’s opening? The new hospital? I was supposed to be there—”

“Oh, man, nobody even knows we’re open. Don’t sweat it if you don’t make it here.”

Jack rested his head in his hands. “Yeah, okay.”

“How’s Mrs. Stratton?”

Mrs. Stratton? Oh, he means Addison. Jack sat up straight and peered through the glass to the blanket burrito.

“Uh … she’s not really up yet. Listen, what exactly happened? Last night?

“You don’t remember anything?” Philip sounded incredulous.

“I remember doing shots,” he said slowly. “And looking at her ex’s Instagram. Then… nothing.”

Jack heard a click.

“Hey, buddy, I’ll have to call you back,” Philip said.

Jack looked at his phone, silent and close to dead. Slowly, he got up from the wrought iron chair and headed into the bathroom. Under the warm spray of the shower, he started to feel better.

By now, it was clear Addison wasn’t getting up anytime soon. He called for room service as he toweled off and slipped into the same clothes he wore last night. They reeked of alcohol.

The food arrived fast and artfully arranged, complete with a rose in a vase. He tipped the attendant at the door and wheeled the cart in himself.

“Food?” Addison asked as he began to uncover the dishes. She peered curiously at the tray.

“This first,” he said, and handed her one of eight Gatorades he’d ordered. She opened it and downed the entire bottle in a few gulps. After her second bottle, Jack offered her some of the food.

She scooted to the end of the bed, still partially wrapped in the blanket and began to eat the French toast, dry, with her fingers. Midchew, she looked at him.

“Are we in Reno?”

“Yep,” he said as he tore into an omelet himself.

“Oh, God. Did we …” she looked down at the wedding band on her finger. “Whose idea was it to get married?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Oh, no. No,” she said, and struggled to get up. She still held the mass of blankets around her. “Where are my clothes? Wait, did we … we didn’t … consummate it, did we?”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said honestly. “I didn’t, you know, see any evidence of that.”

“Oh, thank God. Here’s my shirt,” she said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You’re hot as hell, but … we just met.”

“No offense taken. I think your jeans are balled up in the corner there. And by the way? I think we should be a little more concerned about the fact that we apparently got married drunk instead of thinking about whether we had sex drunk.”

“You’re probably right,” she said. She balled the clothes up in her hand and headed into the bathroom.

Jack listened to the shower turn on and started to think about how to get the marriage annulled.

That was a thing, right? In Nevada? It happened all the time, didn’t it?

“Hey, is this your laptop out here?” he called.

“I don’t know. What does it look like?” her voice was muffled by the water.

“Silver with a yoga sticker.”

“Yeah, that’s mine. Apparently, I was Type-A planner enough to get that out of the trunk before getting hitched to a stranger.”

The laptop was at two percent and had started to shut down. Still, he caught a glimpse of Jeremy’s Instagram page before the screen flickered to black.

Addison slunk back into the bedroom, her hair wrapped in a towel.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“A little. I threw up the French toast, though. I … I should have known better than to drink tequila.”

“I hate to say this, but … I think we should head back to Tahoe,” he said. “We can, you know, figure out the legalities later.”

“Right,” she said, and nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”

He could smell both of them as they huddled into the small elevator. Outside, the sun was blinding and painful. They both groaned and shaded their eyes, neither of them with sunglasses.

“How did we get here?” she asked as they surveyed the empty parking lot.

“I think a taxi,” he said.

“So we’re stranded?”

“So it appears.”

She sighed and trudged forward, and he followed her.