The room was dim, illuminated by neon signs declaring different types of beer, I sipped on the Blue Hawaiian in my hand as I navigated the dance floor.
Hands grabbed my hips as a sensual voice chuckled in my ear. I swayed to the music, looking at a jaw line that made me tingle in foreign places.
Fluorescent light made me wince but I just laughed as my hair was nuzzled, a warm arm wrapped around my waist as I hastily signed my name to a piece of paper.
Flashes of skin and muscles and arms and twined legs. Green eyes, perfect green eyes.
The sun was bright and my head pounded, I felt around blindly but the space beside me was empty. I dressed in my dirty clothes that were scattered haphazardly around the room, I was buttoning my jeans when I noticed the ring on my finger, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
I jerked awake, causing Mike's arm to fall off my waist, he continued to snore lightly as I laid back down, fully awake, the moonlight illuminated our bedroom apartment. I sighed as I gazed over to the desk Mike and I used to pay bills and such. I looked at the bottom left hand drawer, we kept our important documents in it, such as bank statements and birth certificates, and in the very back of it, hidden under a box of carefully organized receipts was a very expensive and beautiful ring that was at least one hundred years old and a creased document, the same creased document I had apparently signed almost three years ago in Las Vegas, Nevada. Next to my signature was a very elegant signature declaring my husband to be E. Cullen.
I shifted my eyes to my left hand, moonlight sparkled off the ring that, even after several hours, still didn't feel as if it belonged. My fiancée groaned and put his hand back on my waist.