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“Oh no.”
“Oh yeah. When he couldn’t convince her to marry him that very night, he made his way to the nearest tattoo parlour to prove his love.”
My eyes widened. “What did he get?”
“A whip wielding, semi-naked woman with hundred-dollar bills hanging from her thong.”
I burst out laughing.
Grayson hushed me and grinned. “I had to take him back to the tattoo parlour to change her blonde hair to red, so she looked like Sabrina.”
“How did Sabrina take it?” I asked, between chortles. “Was she furious?”
He nodded. “At first, but not for long. Apparently she went and bought a whip for the honeymoon.”
I covered my mouth, cackling with laughter. “Oh, too much information.”
Grayson placed his elbow on the table and leant into his palm, watching me with the most peculiar expression.
“What?” I uttered, nervous I had something on my face or in my teeth.
“I just can’t believe I’m seeing you again.”
“And I can’t believe you’re William fucking Harlow.”
He burst out laughing and I smiled at the sight, lifting the camera to my eye. Snap.
* * *
“So, how did the two of you meet?” Craig asked, slamming back yet another whiskey as our table began to fill.
I swallowed nervously. “Um, at a diner in Vegas.”
“In Vegas? What? Waaait.” His eyes tapered in on Grayson. “Is this the girl who…”
I glanced back at Grayson who was now red and silently motioning for Craig to shut up.
“Who what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
Craig sniggered and leant back in his chair looking smug.
Grayson took a sip of his beer. “Who made me reconsider a few things in my life, that’s all.”
“Oh,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
Craig lowered his eyes to my chest. “I bet,” he grunted.
Grayson watched Craig with a clenched jaw. “Let’s go find some more of that whiskey, shall we?” He sounded jovial, but his eyes were dead serious. He stood up and left the table with Craig under his arm, glancing back at me apologetically.
Before I had a chance to process the underlying tension, another man from our table struck up a conversation with me. I’d been so entranced by Grayson I hadn’t even noticed him sit down.
“Scott,” he said, reaching over the table.
I shook his hand and smiled. “Josie.”
“Do I detect an Australian accent?”
I nodded. “I moved here about six years ago.”
