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I saw the love in his eyes. I felt the passion in his voice when he told me earlier that I was his everything. He’d been telling me for a while, but finally, I’d heard him.
And I recognized myself in his words.
Because he was my everything too.
“I’ll get it organized.” Regan nodded and motioned for Dawson to join her. “Daws, get these two in the SUV. I’ll join you in a minute. Then we’ve got a change in plans.”
We followed Dawson outside and walked quickly to the SUV. Not without more photos being taken of us, of course. I hoped the paps weren’t psychic because I think the happiness on our faces would’ve given us away.
Regan joined us shortly after and drove us to a small airfield a half hour away from the gallery.
An hour and a half after that, Brodie and I boarded a private plane with Regan and Dawson in tow.
Thankfully, it had two sofas and comfortable chairs. A five and a half-hour flight meant we’d have time to sleep.
That is, if we could sleep. Both of us were vibrating like kids after eating too much sugar.
I pulled Brodie onto one couch with me, and we snuggled together under a blanket. The soothing hum of the engines and the quiet and darkness of the cabin had us finally drifting off.
We woke up a few hours later to Regan handing us steaming cups of coffee.
“What about your family?” I turned to Brodie as reality filtered in. “Are they going to be upset?”
Brodie shook his head. “They don’t expect me to do anything the traditional way, a wedding least of all. We’ll organize a reception for everyone when we get back.”
I leaned over and kissed him, morning (in this case, night) breath be damned.
“And the guys?”
“Same thing applies. As soon as we start organizing and news leaks, the press will be after us like bloodhounds. I want one moment for just the two of us.”
There was a full bathroom on the plane, so we had time to shower.
At just after midnight, we landed in Vegas, and entered the cool desert night.
Brodie and I were both in the clothes we wore from last night—me in my navy suit and him in his black leather kilt, a silky white blouse, and a leather motorcycle jacket.
And he wore my necklace.
In a short time, he’d be wearing my ring.
Mind fucking blown.
Regan and Dawson procured an SUV rental and drove us to the strip.
“I called a few places while you guys were asleep,” Regan remarked. “First stop, a jewelry store. Then you’re booked in at the Chapel of Everlasting Love in an hour. That still leaves you with enough time if you want to check into a hotel first.”
“I don’t think we should chance it. Let’s get our rings and get to the venue,” I replied.
Brodie nodded. “I agree. If someone spots me, we’re done. I want to go incognito for as long as possible.”
We drove past the gaudy casinos and opulent hotels, the sidewalks packed with people. The energy of the strip was vibrant at this time of night, and most of the partiers were just getting started.
The jewelry store was located in a strip mall on the outskirts of town. The place looked sketchy as fuck, but Regan assured us it was legit and most important, it was open twenty-four seven. Apparently, she’d taken other celebrity clients here when they got married in Vegas.
Trusting in our security lead, we headed inside.
Both Brodie and I preferred simple, classic gold. Forty minutes later, we left with two perfectly fitted wedding bands. Brodie suggested we get matching tattoos on our ring fingers, for those times when wearing a band wouldn’t be possible.
