“We’ll be quiet, or get another room if need be,” Wes announced. Truthfully, that admission didn’t make me feel any better.

“I’m not your fucking babysitter,” I announced, unable to hold back some of the hostility I felt at being rejected yet again in life. “Do whatever the hell it is you please. Leave me a key to the room in case I decide to go out.” I glanced at my bag, as an excuse for why I might need to leave, even though I shouldn’t need one. “I didn’t exactly bring much with me, so I might go grab something for tomorrow.”

Tucker peeled a card out of his wallet and sat it down on the table beside the bed. “Be careful if you go anywhere. This isn’t exactly the town where a single girl should be wandering around alone.”

“You might have thought about that when you invited a friend along to play with you, but didn’t give me the same option,” I suggested. When he just stared at me as if I had two heads I tacked on, “I also do not need or want a babysitter.”

He nodded once and closed my door as he left the room. “You’re a fucking idiot,” was what Wes told him before they moved too far away from the door for me to hear more.

I wasn’t even going to contemplate what that was about. Instead, I snatched my bag up and pulled out the only other article of clothing I’d packed. It was a rose-to-pale pink, ombre dress that sparkled in the light. I had to wear a special bra with it since it was strapless, and I was lacking in the boob department. I barely filled out a B-cup and needed a little extra help from strategically placed padding to boost me closer to a C in order to make the dress work. Lucky for me, I had a heavily padded, underwire bra from VS that pushed my tits up and together and gave me the appearance of having great cleavage too. I wondered how many other women in Vegas performed this particular illusion.

The dress reached my ankles, and luckily looked just as good with the sandals I’d worn here, since they were at least cute and sparkly, as it would have with heels. Actually, that wasn’t true. Heels would have helped the look, especially since I would have appeared taller and leggier, but not bringing heels to get married in had kind of been my fuck you to the whole process, and there wasn’t any going back now since I couldn’t magically produce something else to parade around in when I went out too. Besides, my dress had a sexy slit up the side that only showed when I took a lengthy step or sat down, then my entire leg from my foot to almost the top of my hip would show. That would have to make up for the less than desirable shoe option.

Yes, this was the dress I had chosen to get married in. It’s not like I was going for a traditional, virginal wedding look, and besides it was the best I had on short notice. I took it over to the huge master bedroom closet and found what I was looking for. There was an iron available that had a steam setting that worked like a champ to knock those wrinkles out without damaging the fabric by touching it.