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“A surprise,” I said.
“Am I dressed for this place?” she asked, pointing at her new dress.
“You look classy. And the ankle boots and lace stockings are a nice addition.”
“I’m more Brooklyn than Las Vegas.”
I laughed. “That’s why I love you.”
Miranda looked as though she was trying to understand me.
“You don’t believe me?” I asked.
“I… do. I think.”
I held her in my arms. “Seeing Ethan at your place that night broke me. I’d never felt that kind of jealousy before.”
A soft glint touched her eyes. “We didn’t do anything.”
“That’s a relief. Even though I would have understood.” I stopped walking. “I haven’t been with anyone since you. I want you to know that.”
She bit her lip. “I’m glad.”
With our arms linked, we arrived at a chapel, and Miranda stopped suddenly. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re going to church to pray.”
“I didn’t realize you were religious,” she said with a frown.
We stepped through the door. The small chapel had an almost cartoonish vibe, like all of Las Vegas. Even the candles were fake.
I stopped and turned. “Miranda, I dragged you here for one reason.”
Her eyes darted from my face to our surroundings and back. “That being?”
I got down on one knee. “Will you marry me? Now? Here?”
Her jaw dropped. “Here? We don’t have rings. And my parents… My dad… I mean…”
“Hey, it’s more of a fun thing. We can do it properly later. I just wanted to show you that I’m in this forever.”
Her smooth brow creased. “Forever?”
“Do you need some time to think about it?”
“Um… Wow. So that’s why you brought me here in such a hurry?”
“Uh-huh.”
The celebrant I’d hired while Miranda shopped arrived.
Miranda turned to acknowledge him, and her eyes nearly popped out. She turned sharply toward me. Wearing a shocked smile, she said, “You hired an Andy Warhol impersonator?”
Feeling pleased with myself, I nodded. “It was either a dwarf, Elvis, or Andy.”
She laughed. “This kind of makes a mockery of marriage.”
“Well… it’s a bit of fun.” I played with her fingers. “I’m serious about it, though.” I paused for her response. “That’s if you want to.”
Miranda nodded slowly, as though it was all starting to dawn on her. Then she turned and greeted Andy.
“Good evening, madam,” he said in that wimpish, otherworldly tone associated with the famous artist.
“Hello,” Miranda giggled. To me, she whispered, “He sounds exactly like him.”
“Yeah. He’s great.” I pulled a box from my pocket. “So, what do you think?” I opened it, and a large ruby-encrusted diamond ring sparkled under the lights.
“Oh… is that real?” she asked.
“It sure is,” I replied. “I bought it in Switzerland, at an antique jewelry store.”
