I turn toward her, my hands cupping her face, and claim her. The kiss is light at first—a silent, pulsing question waiting for the slightest hint of permission.
She doesn't just give it, she relinquishes it.
Her lips part under mine and I deepen the kiss, drawn in by the staggering softness of her mouth and the way she leans into me as if she’s been waiting for this all night.
Like me.
She tastes like mahogany and masochism. She’s a slow burn—warm, intoxicating, and just radiant enough to make you forget why you ever feared the flame in the first place.
“What was that for?” she breathes, and I smile against her lips.
“I’m not entirely sure. But it makes for a hell of a first date kiss story, doesn't it?”
Her smile widens, and in the neon-soaked haze of the arcade, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Best first date kiss I’ve ever had,” she whispers, our foreheads still touching.
Then, something flickers behind her eyes. A sudden pullback, a mental reset. It’s as if she’s trying to find her footing on shaky ground. “Why do you feel so real?” She asks.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
She exhales, that girlish grin returning with a hint of mischievousness underneath. “A round of go-kart races while we figure out what this is between us?”
I take her hand, anchoring her to me. “Lead the way, Ms. Mysterious. I’m rather enjoying getting to know my wife.”
Chapter Seven
Gearshifts, Glitches + the Ghosts of Vegas
Luca
Six months ago. Vegas.
The high from the go-karts is still humming in my veins when we pull back into the pit. Aspen is breathless, her hair a wild, wind-swept halo, her laughter ringing out over the roar of the engines. For a second, I forget about the cameras earlier, the contract, and the fact that I don’t know her last name. Because this woman is perfect and I feel like I’ve loved her forever.
We walk back to the cubbies where we’d left our things.
The bench is empty.
“Wait,” Aspen says, her smile faltering as she looks at the bare wood. “I put my tote right here. Next to your jacket.”
I scan the area, my stomach doing a slow, heavy roll. “Maybe the security guard moved them?”
I’m not naive. I wouldn't typically leave our belongings unattended, but there was a nice security guard who assured us she’d look after our things. Now, that nice lady is nowhere to be found.
We spot an attendant. “Excuse me?” Aspen calls out. “We left our things with your security guard, and now both she and our bags are gone. Where is the little thief?”
“Jeez. Easy, Aspen.” I guess my bride is a bit of a badass. “I…I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and the situation calm.
“Yeah, so...we don’t actually have a security guard on this floor,” the attendant says, twisting a lock of orange hair. “It was probably Julie. She pulls that ‘security guard’bit,a lot.”
Now my own voice starts to rise. “I’m sorry? Are you kidding me right now?”
Aspen steps in closer. Even though the attendant is taller, she visibly flinches. “Luna, right?” Aspen says, reading her name tag. The girl nods. “I’m going to need you to repeat that one more time.”
Luna clears her throat. “Yes, ma'am. There’s a grifter named Julie who sometimes dresses up as a security guard and pretends to watch people’s stuff just so she can steal it.”
“And you just let her in here?” Aspen yells.
“When we catch her, we kick her out. But I’m a twenty-two-year-old grad student,” Luna mutters. “I’m not risking my life for people who have zero survival skills in Vegas.”
