Sienna's POV
24 HOURS AGO…
I stretched under the thin blanket, blinking against the Miami sunlight that filtered through the curtains. I arrived in Miami 2 days ago to get away from everything back home in New York. I just needed some time to clear my head and a week-long vacation in Miami seemed like the perfect way to do that. At least Jason and Brenda were states away.
Jason.
My stomach clenched just thinking about him.
I gave that man four years of my life and he handed it off to Brenda, my supposed friend and colleague. Someone I cooked with, laughed with, and spent countless late-night shifts making menu plans with.
That moment when I walked in on the two of them in Jason's apartment felt like I was in some tragic cliché from a bad TV show.
So yeah, I desperately need this break.
I pushed myself out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and told my reflection:
"It's time to relax and forget. Let's explore this city."
*****
The sun was warm on my shoulders when I locked the apartment door and headed down the street. I had mapped out a tour plan the night before, but honestly? All I need right now is caffeine.
I found a small coffee shop near Ocean Drive—a cute little place with palm trees painted on the windows and wooden tables painted with pastel blues and greens. I pushed open the door, inhaling that perfect blend of coffee and vanilla syrup. The barista took my order—a caramel latte with extra foam—and I waited, bouncing slightly on my toes.
When my drink was ready, I grabbed it with a 'thank you' and a smile then I turned around to leave only to bump right into someone's solid chest. And my latte—my beautiful, much-needed latte—splashed all over a man wearing a perfectly fitted navy-blue shirt.
"Oh my God!" I squeaked.
The man looked down at himself, surprised but not angry. When he lifted his gaze to mine, I was mesmerized.
Holy Crap. He's handsome.
Annoyingly, unfairly, unfair-to-humanity handsome.
He's tall with golden blond hair, slightly messy like he just ran his fingers through it. His eyes are a striking shade of blue—like the Miami coastline, but deeper. And his jawline looked like something carved straight out of a modeling magazine.
"I am so sorry!" I babbled, grabbing napkins from the counter and tried to blot his chest. Immediately I realized I was blotting his chest, I dropped the napkins like they burned me. "I—your shirt—oh god. Let me pay for the dry cleaning! Or the whole shirt! I swear I didn't mean to—"
He lifted one hand, stopping my meltdown in its tracks.
"It's alright," he said in a British accent. "I promise. It's just a shirt."
"I'm really—"
"—sorry, yes, I gathered." He smiled, a single dimple appeared on his left cheek. "And I appreciate it. Truly."
My cheeks burned. "I swear I'm not usually this clumsy."
"I don't believe that for a second," he teased, amusement shining in his eyes.
He offered a hand. "I'm Eric."
"Sienna," I replied, taking it.
I'd planned to run away after humiliating myself, but Eric asked if I'd like to join him while we waited for his coffee and my replacement latte.
"It's the least you can do for nearly scalding me alive," he said with a perfectly straight face.
I rolled my eyes, laughing. "You're not even burned."
"You don't know that."
"You're ridiculous."
"So I've been told."
And somehow… I stayed.
We ended up talking. He told me he was visiting Miami for a few weeks, taking a break from "family responsibilities." I told him I came here to also take a break from work, that wasn't entirely a lie.
We left the coffee shop, walking along the sidewalk with our coffees in hand. And somewhere between our laughter and the sunlight, I secretly admired him. But I had to immediately remind myself that it was a bad idea. Men have taken enough from me in the past. Still…He's handsome, funny, and really gentle with his words. But then again, Jason was that way when we first met in college but see how things ended.
"Where to next?" he asked after we'd walked for a bit.
"The beach?"
"The art walk?"
"The aquarium?"
"Well, I planned to take a tour today. Maybe visit some cool places. I also wanted to see a casino…"
He brightened. "A casino sounds fun."
I blinked. "Wait… you want to come with me?"
He shrugged, casual as ever. "I've got nothing planned. And you seem much more interesting than sitting alone in my hotel room."
I stared at him. "You barely know me."
He smiled lightly. "So far, I know you make excellent conversation, have terrible aim with coffee cups, and look way more beautiful when you're smiling."
I swear my heart melted a little but I just shrugged it off and shook my head.
Before I could argue, he hailed a cab and suggested that we go to a bar first because apparently, we need more alcohol before entering a building full of bright lights and bad decisions.
*****
The bar was a cozy spot with vintage posters, dim lights, and maybe the world's best mojitos. We ordered drinks and talked like we've known each other for years. He told me about how it was growing up in London. I told him about growing up in New York.
We bonded over our mutual hatred for people who clap when planes land. We talked about food, travel, life, and bad haircut decisions. And somehow, I found myself telling him about Jason and Brenda. His quiet, understanding expression made it hurt less.
"It's his loss," he simply said.
After three mojitos and two shots, my brain was doing cartwheels and I decided it was a good time to visit the casino.
Eric agreed.
*****
The casino was loud and chaotic. We stumbled inside, laughing at nothing. We decided to get the casino experience where we lost some money, won some money and high-fived until I almost smacked a bartender in the face.
In a little corner, I saw a wedding exhibit with a cheesy sign that said: "Say 'I Do' for a Day!" I pointed it to Eric who groaned as I grinned. "We should do it," I said confidently. "Just for fun."
"You really think this is a good idea?" he asked, clearly entertained.
"It's a fun idea."
"Fair enough."
We approached the officiant who told us how it works and went ahead to grab fake rings, repeat fake vows and pose for photos.
Afterwards, a man in a nice suit approached us and asked if we wanted to sign the marriage certificate. We both looked at each other and said sure. It's fake anyway. Eric signed first then I signed, scribbling down what I felt was my signature. Man, I'm really wasted.
We finally stepped out of the casino with the " fake certificate" in my hands. Eric's arms were wrapped around me as I leaned heavily on him, barely able to stand.
"Are you alright?," he asked.
I think I whispered something like "I like your eyebrows."
And that was the last thing I remember before the darkness consumed me.
THE PRESENT…
I stood beside Eric in the elevator as we descended to the hotel lobby. My mind was in a blur, everything that has happened in the last 24 hours still feels like a dream.
Eric pressed the button for the ground floor, glanced at me, and offered what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. "We'll sort this out. We'll just go back to the casino and find the man who married us."
Married us.
Hearing it out loud made me want to bury myself alive. I swallowed hard and nodded. "Right. The man in the suit. He'll fix it. It's his fault for not telling us it was real anyway."
We got a cab to the casino — neither of us said much. Eric kept glancing at me, like he wasn't sure if I was going to cry, faint, or leap out of the moving vehicle. Honestly? I wasn't sure either.
We finally arrived, the casino looked the same way I remember it last night.
I inhaled sharply. "Okay. Let's just find him."
We pushed through the bustling entrance, walking past the blinking slot machines, roulette tables, and the bar where I nearly assaulted a bartender with my hand.
We finally found the corner where the wedding exhibit was set up. But everything was gone.
My heart dropped. "N-no… no, no, no. Where is everything?"
Eric frowned, scanning the room. "There was definitely something here yesterday."
"Obviously," I snapped. "I didn't hallucinate an entire wedding! We have a marriage certificate as proof."
We asked a dealer nearby about the wedding exhibit. He shrugged and said, "Oh, that was just a one-night promotional event. They packed up early this morning."
I stared at him. "Do you know who the man running it was? The one giving out certificates?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, miss. They bring in people just for the event. It could be anyone."
I felt my stomach twisting into knots.
Eric gently touched my elbow. "Let's check the front desk. Maybe they know something."
We practically jogged across the casino floor, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. The front desk clerk smiled politely as we explained the situation — though I skipped the part where Eric and I were drunk idiots.
"Oh," the clerk said after typing into her computer, "yes, the registrar was from the Miami County Clerk's Office. They held a special 'Pop-Up Marriage Experience' last night."
Registrar.
County Clerk's Office.
My heart sank all the way into my stomach, I suddenly became dizzy as I realized the weight of our situation.
This wasn't something we could undo in ten minutes.
My Miami vacation — the trip that was supposed to clear my head — has somehow turned into a legally binding disaster.