Married at Midnight

By: Gerri Russell

“You were a handsome couple,” Red Elvis said, drawing out the words.

“How did we get our wedding clothes?” she asked, her voice thin.

“The chapel has dresses, tuxes, flowers, and rings right there. The two of you only took a few minutes deciding. It appeared you were in a hurry to get down that aisle,” Red Elvis said with a hearty laugh.

“I stood in as your Elvis of honor,” Gold Elvis said, giving her a shy look as he took Ellie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “’Twas truly an honor.”

Blue Elvis handed Connor an official-looking piece of paper from the cart. It was a wedding license bearing his own signature right next to what he assumed was Ellie’s. “If you still need proof about what transpired between you and Ellie, here it is.”

Ellie remained perfectly still, her face as pale as Connor had ever seen. But he didn’t miss the temper building in the depths of her brown eyes.

“As a licensed minister, I married you two,” Red Elvis continued proudly.

“Why would I do any of this?” Ellie asked as her temper suddenly broke free. “The most important day of my life, a day I’ve dreamed about since I was twelve.” Her pitch rose with every word. “And I married him, of all people, in a themed chapel in Vegas with Elvis as my bridesmaid?” She threw the pictures of their wedding on the breakfast tray.

“Why are you the one who’s pissed?” Connor objected as Ellie headed past him through the door.

All four of the older men looked stricken. “We didn’t mean to upset either of you,” Red Elvis said as Connor rushed past him.

“I told you we should have waited,” Blue Elvis muttered. “Hangovers tend to make people less rational.”

Ellie kept moving down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Connor asked, following her to the elevators in his bare feet. He reached for her arm, then stopped himself.

She punched the “Call” button before turning to face him. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve got to figure this out. Why would I marry you? Why would you marry me?”

This time he didn’t hold back. He reached for her, gently placing his hand on her wrist. “We need to figure this out. Together.”

The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside. “You and I have caused each other enough pain already. What we need to figure out is how to get divorced in Vegas as quickly as we got married.” The doors shut, leaving Connor to stare at his reflection in the shiny metal.

Get divorced? He hadn’t even come to terms with the fact they were married, and she was talking about divorce? He shook his head at the odd thought. Of course she wanted to be rid of him every bit as much as he wanted to be rid of her. He did want to be rid of her, right?

Connor made his way back to Ellie’s room. As soon as he pulled on his socks and shoes, he’d go after her. In the past, Ellie would have returned to the place where they’d started down this path. The woman he’d confronted this morning would no doubt do the same, searching for a reason or a memory that might help her understand why they’d married.


Connor walked through the open hotel room door to find all four Elvises standing right where he’d left them near the breakfast cart. Each held one of the pictures of his and Ellie’s wedding in their hands.

White Elvis looked up and gave Connor a sad smile. “We’ve seen a lot of couples come through our chapel. You two seemed genuine about tying the knot forever.”

Connor moved past them, searching for his socks and shoes, finding them under the bed. He should probably change out of the tuxedo he wore, but all his other clothes were in his own room somewhere in this gigantic hotel. He’d look ridiculous wearing a tuxedo at ten o’clock in the morning. But then again, in Vegas pretty much anything was acceptable at any time of day. “Sorry, guys. I need to leave.”

Blue Elvis smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re going after her, aren’t you?”

Before Connor could answer, his cell phone chimed. He withdrew the device from the pocket of his pants. He looked at the screen, hoping it was Ellie even though he had no idea if she knew his cell number. Maybe they’d exchanged them last night along with all the other things neither of them could remember.

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