Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I kiss her then, and it's different from every other kiss we've shared. There's no desperation, no frantic need to prove a point or claim a space. It's a promise. It's slow and deep, tasting of salt and champagne and the future. When I pull away, I'm breathless, my heart hammering a rhythm I don't think will ever slow down as long as she's in my arms. I lead her back to the small table, keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders. I'm not letting her more than six inches away from me for the rest of the night. Hell, for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MIA
I never thought I’d be the girl who elopes, but here we are. We didn't even wait two weeks. The engagement ring had barely been on my finger for seventy-two hours before we decided that a traditional wedding wasn’t for us.
Since Mick McLinden doesn't do anything halfway, and apparently, that includes the transition from fiancé to husband, we booked a trip to Las Vegas for my next three-day weekend off. We packed two small bags, told Mia and Harper to keep their phones on, and caught the red-eye to Nevada.
The desert heat hits me like a physical weight the moment we step out of the airport. It's dry, oppressive, and absolutely perfect. Mick grips my hand, his palm rough and steady, as we navigate the neon chaos of the Strip.
"You sure you don’t want a big fancy wedding?" he asks, checking the address on his phone. He’s wearing a sharp charcoal suit that makes him look like a high-stakes gambler instead of a professional hockey player. "We can still the traditional route if you want."
I pull him to a stop, adjusting his silk tie. My own dress is a simple white slip, silk and lace that feels like nothing against my skin. "I want to marry you today." I stand on my tippy-toes and place a kiss on his lips. “Let’s go get married.”
He grins, that mischievous flash in his eyes that always makes my heart do a frantic little stutter. "Anything for you, trouble."
The Happily Ever After Chapel is everything the brochures promised. It’s a small, stucco building tucked between a pawn shop and a 24-hour liquor store. The sign out front features a neon dove flying through a diamond ring. The air inside smells of fresh carnations and industrial-strength floor wax.
"Welcome to The Happily Ever Chapel," a man says, stepping out from behind a velvet curtain. He’s wearing a very tasteful black suit with a light pink tie. He looks at Mick, then at me, and his smile wide. "You two looking to tie the knot?"
Mick squeezes my hand. "We have a reservation for two o’clock."
Gary, according to the small name tag on lapel, nods solemnly. “Did you get the marriage license on the way here?”
“I have it right here.” Mick pulls it out of his jacket pocket and hands it over to him.
“Give me five minutes to fill out the paperwork and we’ll be ready to get this show on the road.” He heads over to a computer and types away. Not too long later, he walks back to us and smiles. "Follow me, kids. We’ve got it all set up for you."
We walk into a small room draped in red velvet and gold tinsel. A recording of 'Here comes the Bride' starts playing over a scratchy speaker system. It’s actually much classier than I’d imagined we’d find in Vegas. It’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me because I’m standing here with a man who would do whatever it takes to make me happy.
A middle-aged woman in a pink wrap around dress and comes strolling out of the back room and sits in the front row. Gary takes his place under a white arch. He clears his throat, assuming a low, vibrato-heavy tone. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Mick, do you take Mia to be your partner for life?"
Mick takes both of my hands in his, his thumbs grazing my knuckles, and smiles down at me. “I do.” His voice is deep, echoing in the small space, filled with love for me. He means it.
"And Mia," Gary continues, turning his rhinestones toward me. "Do you take Mick to be your husband?"
I look up at Mick. I think about the night at The Roaring Crowd, the way I tried to push him away because I was afraid of how much space he’d take up in my life. I think about the way he makes me feel safe even when everything else is crazy and uncertain.
"I do," I whisper. A single, happy laugh escapes me, and I feel the sting of tears behind my eyelids. "I absolutely do."
Mick slides the platinum band onto my finger, his movements precise and deliberate. It’s heavier than the engagement ring, a solid weight that anchors me to him. Gary looks back and forth between us with a smile on his face.