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This tour still has two months to go, but it’s been utterly life-changing. Everything I hoped for and so much more. Everything we pondered on as kids under the stars, making wishes on shooting stars.
“What should we do today?” I ask, my lips pressing to his neck. “We’ve got a whole day in Vegas, just me and you.” The guys ran off the second the bus stopped, excited for what I’m sure was a night of debauchery, but we stayed behind for some much-needed alone time.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, his arm wrapped around my waist tightening.
“Not sure. I’m too young for gambling,” I say, biting my lip, the same nerves and guilt I always feel creeping in.
“Gambling is overrated,” he whispers, lips on my neck, scruff scratching at my skin.
“There’s uh, we can explore the casinos,” I suggest. “Go shopping?” He laughs, knowing I hate shopping, that my mother’s sole version of spending quality time with her daughters was spending too much money together, making it an unpleasant pastime for me.
“Or…” I say, trying to think as he turns me in his arms so we’re face to face. I look up at him, his lips tipped and his eyes dreamy as he looks at me, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“Let’s get married,” he says low, his finger running through my hair, but it’s dislodged when I jerk my head to look at him.
“What?”
“Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”
“Riggs, we can’t, we—” I stutter, trying to calm my heart.
“Why not?”
“Uh, because we’re barely even engaged, and we have no papers or anything.” I stare at him, my head spinning. I keep making jokes about getting married now that we’re engaged, but he usually rolls his eyes and laughs at me, telling me we need to wait until the tour is over and…
“Papers?” he asks, confused.
“To protect you,” I say, my brows furrowed. “Prenups and agreements. We need a lawyer and?—”
“We don’t need a prenup.”
I tip my head and give him a look. He loves me; I know that. But even I, a hopeless romantic, standing in front of the only boy I’ve ever loved in my life, know he needs a prenuptial agreement. Even though I have absolutely zero interest in whatever money he has or might one day have, I want him to have that protection.
“Riggs, you’re.. you’re growing. Quickly. You’re going to be huge by this time next year. We should make sure you’re protected or something, we should?—”
He shakes his head, pressing his lips to mine, his face shifting to that childlike excitement I’ve seen before. The kind that always makes me giddy and excited to be beside him, to be his.
“You’re not going to leave me, right? Run and try to take all of my money?”
I give him a look that says you’re insane because he is.“No, of course not, I’d never?—”
“And you love me, right?”
“Of course, honey, I just?—”
“Then let’s do it.” He steps back, and he’s smiling wide, and it’s hard not to feel that excitement, to get wrapped up in it just as well as his hand reaches for mine.
“Riggins.”
“I love you, Stella. I’ll love you until I die. I’ll love you until I’m compost. Until I’m nothing more than food for the worms,” he says, his voice a low rumble, something I feel more than see as he’s pulled me up against him again.
“That’s pretty fucked up, Riggs.”
“It’s true, is what it is.” He stares at me for long beats and I let him, taking in his face all the same. The face I’ve loved for so long, I could draw it in my sleep if I had any real drawing skill. I scan it for mistruths and concerns but find nothing. Nothing but love for me.
“I love you, Riggins.” It feels like a confession and agreement all the same, and somehow he knows. He knows this is my way of him winning, of agreeing.
“Then let’s do it,” he whispers, his lips ghosting mine. “Let’s get married, make you mine for real.”
