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The minister spoke, and yet Palmer heard nothing until it was time for her to say her lines. She focused on Kent, memorizing every aspect of his face, his voice, and the moment unfolding between them. He would be her husband, and to her that meant something entirely different than it did to other brides. In a matter of weeks or days, no one really knew, he’d make decisions about her health. He would be the one to tell doctors she had a DNR, and what she wanted done with her body. Kent would be the one to fill out her death certificate and close out her accounts. He would be responsible for her. All of her.
She finally had someone.
Palmer recited her vows, promising to love and cherish every waking moment she had left with Kent. When it was time to exchange rings, she wasn’t surprised when Kent put a black band in her palm to slip onto his ring finger. She held it for a moment and appreciated that it was black. Kent would mourn her when she passed.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” she said as she pushed it onto his finger. He had done the same for her, completing her set.
“By the power vested in me, by the great state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Kent, you may kiss your bride.”
Kent cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. He then caught her off guard when he dipped her, much to the delight of their internet friends. Everyone cheered and had their cameras out, taking pictures and videos of them as they walked down the aisle.
Outside, they stopped in their tracks when they saw the line of people waiting for them. Everyone clapped and threw rose petals and birdseed as Palmer and Kent hustled to their limo. Tucked safely inside, Kent kissed her again and professed his love for her, which she returned wholeheartedly.
Kent opened the sunroof, and they stood as the driver drove slowly back to the Strip. Their fans lined the street for them, giving them a wedding recessional they had no idea they’d wanted until now.
They waved until the line thinned out and then sat back in the limo. “Now what?” Kent asked. As much as she wanted the night to continue, she was tired, and that likely wouldn’t bode well for her later. “I need to rest,” she told him, and he agreed. The driver took them back to the hotel and congratulated them.
Kent held their bag of clothes in one hand, and Palmer’s hand in his other. They walked slowly to their room, stopping to accept congratulatory comments from everyone who passed by. Women gushed when they saw Palmer’s dress, which caused her to blush. She would never get used to the compliments.
Kent opened their hotel room door, threw their bag of clothes in, and then scooped his bride into his arms. He carried her in and held her while she let her eyes wander around the room, soaking up every detail. Red rose petals were on the floor and the bed, and a bottle of sparkling wine chilled on the table, along with a bowl of strawberries. Hanging there, on the outside of the wardrobe, was a white silk nightgown.
“What’s this?” she asked after he’d set her down.
“It’s a nightgown.”
It was more than an ordinary nightgown, in Palmer’s opinion. It was sensual and meant to make whoever wore it feel sexy. The deep cut down the middle, the high leg slit, and the appliqué cutouts were meant to entice her husband.
Kent came up behind her and kissed her bare back. “You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to.”
“I . . . uh . . . I didn’t think.”
He turned her around. “I want to be your husband, Palmer. In every way you want me.”
Palmer thought about what putting the nightie on would mean and took it from the hanger. She went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire with what waited for her in the bedroom. She wanted to be with Kent, and in a different lifetime would have been more than eager to take him up on his offer, although he wasn’t exactly offering her anything, other than being her husband. It was their wedding night, and he wanted to be with her.
She slipped out of her dress and avoided looking at herself in the mirror as she stepped into the nightgown. Palmer pulled the pins holding her hair in place and ran her fingers through her curls. In her mind, she looked sexy, and that was enough encouragement to open the door.
The lights were dim, and soft music played from the speakers. Kent stood in the middle of the room, dressed in black boxers. He came toward her, and she matched his confident steps with her wavering ones.
