Present day . . .

“The last time I did snakebites, I woke up in bed with Mason,” I tell Emma. I lean forward on my barstool and add, “Married.”

“All the more reason to continue the tradition,” she says with a mischievous grin.

After dinner and going through her boudoir shots—which she absolutely adored, thank you very much—Emma convinced me we needed to celebrate properly. We drove over to one of her favorite bars in Destin. After we snagged two seats at the crowded bar, the first thing she did was to order a round of snakebites.

She bypasses the water I ordered and picks up both shot glasses, handing one to me. “It’s tradition!”

I have no one to blame but myself. I’m the one who taught her this terrible tradition, after all.

“Come on,” she says. “We need to celebrate!”

“Here’s to your engagement!” I hoist my shot glass.

She clinks hers against mine and grins. “And to your marriage.”

I grumble, then decide the reminder is as good a reason as any to get this alcohol in my system. I lick the salt from my wrist and throw back the shot, wincing like a schoolgirl when the heat hits my throat. I’m out of practice.

I reach for the lime fast and bite into it. My eyes water as the tart juice spills on my tongue. Emma pumps a fist in the air and cheers.

“I know you two,” someone says from the other side of Emma.

I cough on my lime and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The guy is tall and built, with an easy smile and thick, dark hair that curls a little around the collar of his polo. I’m pretty sure he’s one of the Gators’ receivers, but I’ve never met him. “You might know her,” I say. “But I’m pretty sure you don’t know me.”

“I do.” He grins. “You don’t know me, but I know you.”

I roll my eyes. He’s hot, but that’s about as lame as a come-on line gets. “You don’t say.”

He points to Emma. “You’re Keegan Keller’s girl, the actress.” He swings his hand around to point at me. “And you’re Mason Dahl’s wife.”

Emma’s head whips around so fast, I’m pretty sure she’s going to need to see a chiropractor tomorrow. She looks to the guy and then back to me, shock in her eyes. And, yeah, I’m pretty shocked too, because no one is supposed to know.

Before I can decide what to say, I’m saved by a text coming through on my phone. I look down and see a message from Mia.

Mia: I thought we were best friends who told each other everything.

My stomach lurches as I think of the secrets I’ve kept from her. For a dozen nauseating beats of my heart, it doesn’t even cross my mind that she might be referring to my secret marriage to Mason.

Then I see the link at the bottom of the text. I click it, and the page it opens reads, “Mason Dahl, Gators receiver, secretly eloped in Vegas. You won’t believe what was caught on camera.”

My stomach climbs into my throat as I tap the play icon. The video looks like it was taken by someone’s cell phone. It’s slightly out of focus and not very steady, but when Mason and I walk down the aisle of the small Vegas chapel, you can tell it’s us. I’m holding his hand and giggling, practically dragging him to the front.

Honestly, there was part of me that never really believed we got married. Like, maybe we bought rings and talked about it, but I couldn’t imagine myself following through with it—no matter how drunk. How could I have made such an awful mistake, even completely trashed? But there I am, reciting vows that I can’t quite make out in this recording, tears rolling down my face as I make my promises to Mason Dahl.

And if the world wasn’t already in love with the Gators’ wide receiver, they would be after watching this video and seeing him finish his vows by whispering in his bride’s ear then kissing her so deeply that she was clinging to him when he pulled away.

I was clinging to him. That was me. I really am married to the one man I can’t have. I want to spring into action, to fix this mess before it spirals into a disaster. But at the same time, I want to re-watch the video fifty times just to see the smile on Mason’s face when I say, “I do.”

I type out half a dozen partial responses to Mia, deleting each before I finish. The words I finally settle on are lame at best.

Me: I’m sorry. I promise I’ll explain everything next time I see you.

Then I open the text thread between me and Mason, fully aware that Emma and the hot dude are both watching me. Emma looks away for a beat before turning back to me, and when she does, the little bitch is laughing.

“This isn’t funny.”

She bites her lip. “It’s a little funny.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She nods. “Absolutely. Totally. And selfish, too. I want you to live here.”

With shaking hands, I start typing, because this is going to affect Mason, too.

Me: Someone leaked our story to the press. There’s even a video.

Mason: Not someone. Me.

Me: WHAT? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WTF, MASON?

When I get home from my last meeting of the day, there’s another collection notice in my mailbox for Bailey. Somewhere along the line, someone figured out we were married. The paper bills started arriving a few weeks ago, and then about a week ago, I started getting calls from people trying to track her down about overdue bills. I don’t know every detail of her financial situation, but I’ve learned more in the last week than I’ve ever known before. Though Bailey may have many talents, managing money is clearly not one of them.

I toss it into the stack with the others and see my phone flashing at me from the counter. It’s been blowing up with text messages and voicemails from friends and teammates since that video was released, never mind the deluge of texts from Bailey herself written in all caps and pulling on all sorts of colorful language.

I scroll through the notifications until I see a text from Keegan. I tap on it.

Keegan: Your wife and my fiancée are getting drunk at Gallagher’s, and we’re missing out. What do you say we divide and conquer?

My wife. My lips curl into a smile despite myself. Sure, she’s pissed at me and making me sweat my decision to release that wedding video to the press, and sure, my plans might royally backfire. But right now, all I can think about is getting Bailey out of Blackhawk Valley.

Maybe living here won’t change anything. Maybe she’s so dead-set on wasting her life in that town that no amount of time will convince her to leave for good, but I’m determined to give it a try.

When my phone rings and I see Mom’s name on the screen, I close my eyes and take a long, slow breath before swiping to accept the call. I knew this was coming, since I didn’t call to warn her before the video was released. I knew avoidance wasn’t the most mature way to handle it, but I didn’t want to hear her thoughts on my impulsive Vegas marriage.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, baby. I just saw the news.” I can hear the tears in her voice, and I feel like an asshole. Mom is emotional when it comes to her kids, and even if I don’t agree with the way she sees things, she does love us. “Your father wants you to know you can get an annulment. People get married in Vegas on a whim all the time and they have ways to fix it. It’d be like it never happened.”

I walk to the back of the house and stare out the French doors to the ocean beyond. I count to ten before I let myself respond. I have to tread carefully here. “I don’t want an annulment.”

“Yes, well, you always did have a weakness for that girl, didn’t you?”

Mom doesn’t understand, and I have no interest in wasting my breath to explain. “Her name is Bailey, but you already know that.”

“I just don’t think you were considering your future, and—”

“I know what I’m doing, Mom.”

“That girl was a stripper, Mason.” She says the word as if it’s an unclaimed pair of dirty underwear she’s holding between two fingers to take to the trash. “You don’t know what kind of diseases she’s carrying, or—”

“Jesus. She’s a woman, not a rodent.”

“Please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” she says calmly. “I’m just saying. We’ve been blessed with wealth, and there are certain types of people who like to take advantage of that.”

“Do you see why I didn’t tell you?” I ask softly.

“We’re only looking out for your best interests, Mason. All your father and I have ever wanted is what’s best for you. I’m afraid to ask, but . . .” She pauses for a beat, but I know her question before she asks it. “Was there at least a prenup?”

“That wasn’t offered with the super-value wedding package, Mom.”

“You’re hilarious,” she says.

“I don’t want a prenup or need one.” I squeeze the back of my neck, where the tension has returned with a vengeance.

“Well, now you have her. I’ll be here when you need me, but I wish you’d listen before she hurts you more than she already has.”

“Mom, I need you to back off on this.”

She’s silent for a few beats, and I hear the clinking of ice against a glass. I imagine her sitting under an umbrella by the pool, swirling her cucumber water in one hand, her phone in the other. “You need to remember that your decisions affect other people,” she says. “I won’t say anything more about it.”

“Just trust me.” Because one way or another, when this is all over, I’ll prove Bailey is not who they think she is. When it’s time for us to part ways, I know she won’t take my money. “I know what I’m doing.”

God, I hope I’m right about that. Mom might be worried about my bank account, but the only thing I’m worried about Bailey stealing is my heart.

Someone honks out front, and I go to the front porch. It’s Keegan in his big SUV. The guys call it his man-van, since it was obviously purchased with his daughter, Jasmine, in mind.

“I have to go, Mom. We’ll talk later.”

“Love you,” she says.

“I love you too. Try not to worry.”

I end the call, and Keegan rolls down his window and sticks his head out. “Did you get my text?”

“I did. But I’m not sure Bailey will want me interrupting her girls’ night.”

“Come on! If you recall, the last time we went clubbing with our ladies, things got interesting.”

I grunt. “You can say that again.” Then I sigh, because really, if Bailey is drinking in Destin, someone needs to keep an eye on her, and I’d just as soon it be me. “I’ll meet you there. I want my car.”

He grins. “Deal.”