AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That’s fine,” Elvis-wannabe drones in such a deep voice it’s practically dripping chocolate. “Give the missus your license and such and we’ll get on with it.” He waggles silver eyebrows at me and does a wiggle thing with his hips.
I fight an urge to giggle.
“We don’t have a license yet,” Mase says in a dismissive voice. “We’ll get one after you marry us.”
‘“Fraid not, m’boy. We do things proper at Elvis’s Excellent Palace of Love, and your blessed event will be no different.” He juts out his hip, one two, while swinging his arms, like some weird style of Fortnite dance. “C’mon back later and I’ll set you up for a lifetime of love.”
“We want to get marriednow.” Mase’s voice turns authoritative like he’s used to giving orders. I gape more at him than Elvis.
We kissed, and now we’re standing before an Elvis impersonator, and he’s saying these things. I can’t respond because I seem to have lost the ability to speak. Maybe it was the kiss, maybe it’s because I’m standing in a wedding chapel...
“Doesn’t everybody,” Elvis drawls. “C’mon back as soon as you get yourself the proper paperwork and I’ll set you right up.”
“Hon, I sent off those pics,” a woman calls. She steps into the lobby, surprised to see Elvis with us.
Not as surprised I am—she’s wearing a long black robe that’s a cross between a housecoat and a muumuu, with black hair backcombed into a Marge Simpson bouffant.
“What the hell?” Mase mutters.
“More lovebirds wantin’ to tie the knot, my angel,” Elvis tells her.
“Hunnerd and twenny, and a Nevada license that says we’re okay to marry y’all, please and thank ya,” the angel says. I can’t place her accent, but I know I’ll never forget it.
Or this whole experience.
“We don’t have a license,” I say in a strange, high-pitched voice.
“I have money, though.” Mase pulls out his wallet and shows a handful of bills. Angel’s eyes gleam at the sight.
“You need a marriage license.” Elvis’s honeyed voice morphs into a clipped, annoyed tone that loses the drawl and the deepness and doesn’t match the white satin jumpsuit at all, making the experience all the more surreal. “I can’t do anything for you.”
That settles it. I’m not going to marry Mase Stirling after all.
“How do we do that?” Mase asks. “Never been married, so don’t know the rules. Never really wanted to.” He smiles down at me.
It’s the very same smile he gave me earlier tonight, but there’s no evidence of annoyance or irritation in me now, justflutters.
Everywhere. It’s like I’m vibrating. How is that possible that I’ve gone from being ticked off at the very sight of Mase to agreeing to marry him in less than twenty-four hours?
That was a really good kiss.
“Are you sure?” I manage.
“Head over to the Clark County Marriage License Bureau,” Elvis says, sounding helpful without the drawl. “It’s not open until eight, but Nell’s there round about half past seven. Ask nicely, tell her Bert sent you, and she might help you out.”
“Then we come back here?”
“I’ll grab a bite to eat and be back for eight thirty,” he promises, changing his voice to more Matthew McConaughey than Elvis accent. “Ah’ll fix ya right up.”
“Are yousure?” I ask again, gripping Mase’s hand like he’s the only thing holding me from drifting into space. Which I feel like I’m about to do.
There are so many things wrong with this scenario—Mase Stirling and me in a wedding chapel. What can possibly be right about it?
But then Mase looks at me with eyebrows raised like he’s asking me my thoughts, and I can’t say a word. I can’t say yes, and I can’t say no. All I can do is stare into his eyes and wonder what’s gotten into me.
And then I think about kissing him. Again. And again. Of all the times I can be kissing him.
Kissing him sounds like a wonderful idea and I smile at the thought. “You need to be sure,” I tell him.
