“Go, baby,” she says, patting his arm. “I don’t need you here fussing over me. Call that nice driver to come get me. You know, the one I like to look at.”
“Or,” I offer, stepping further into the conversation. “I can take her home. My shift is almost over, and I really don’t mind.”
He smiles. “That won’t be necessary. I know I could call a driver, but since Mom passed, Lilly’s been like a mother to me. I’m not trusting her care to a stranger if I don’t have to. Rileigh’s got Manny until I get her home.”
My chest clenches a little at that. The tenderness. The sense of responsibility. It’s rare.
I walk with them down to the lobby and through the main entrance, pushing the wheelchair beside them. Outside, the car line is already full of loved ones ready to take their people home.
I watch as Eros helps Ms. Lilly into the back seat with the kind of care that can’t be taught.
Ms. Lilly waves and blows me a kiss as the car pulls away, her words settling deep inside me. This life may not always make sense, and joy might not always come easy, but I’ll be damned if I let it pass me by because I was too scared—or too comfortable—to reach for it.
Right then and there, I make myself a promise: I’m taking every bit of joy this life has to offer. Even if I have to chase it down.
And from what I hear, “Joy” is somewhere near Vegas.
Chapter Five
Sexy and Exotic + Shit
Aspen
Six months ago. Vegas.
“I do.”
It just slips out. And then his lips are on mine.
It’s an absolute landslide. A sudden, crushing weight that levels every defense I have. My fingers tangle in his shirt on instinct, anchoring me to the earth before the sheer force of him sweeps me off my feet.
And as cliché as it sounds, I don’t do things like this.
I am not the girl who has wild Vegas nights. I’m the girl who double-checks her door locks and sets three different alarms for her shifts at the clinic. I definitely don’t get drunk and marry strangers. Hell, I barely kiss on the first date. My life is curated to be boring. My movements are so predictable you could set a watch by them, largely because my mother’s voice lives in my head, vetoing every impulse I’ve ever had.
I can almost hear her now—Bertha’s disappointed sigh, her warnings about “reputations” and “propriety.” If she also wasn’t one of my best friends, she’d annoy the hell out of me.
But as the noise of the casino floor fades, every rule I’ve ever lived by begins to dissolve. The over-the-top, bedazzled chapel, with its tacky neon and velvet curtains, melts into the background. All that's left is the heat radiating off the man standing beside me and the sudden, terrifying realization that for the first time in my life, my mother isn't the one holding the pen.
I am. And I'm about to sign my name to a disaster.
At least that’s what she’s call it.
But at this very moment, all I can feel is him.
His mouth on mine.
His hands at my waist.
The firm, sure press of his body like he already knows exactly how to melt me.
Luca.
I’ve never forgotten to be cautious before, and it is absolutely thrilling.
The officiant clears his throat and we pull apart, breathless, staring at each other like we’ve just opened a door to something neither of us expected.
His smile is lopsided. Daring. “Hi, wife,” he whispers into my mouth.
