I expect to have to report back to Ms. Angela that my mission aborted.
“And what makes you think that’s not where I sleep?” he asks.
seven
Noah
Vegas is the exact opposite of Emerald Creek.
Hot.
Dry.
Crowded.
Neon lights everywhere.
Concrete, steel, and glass structures.
Artificial grass, real palm trees.
Casinos, restaurants, concerts, shows, both on the street and in every recess of every building.
I hate it.
“Ohmygod I love it!” Willow shrieks gleefully as we pass street artists adding to the ambient heat by blowing flames out of their mouths. “Look! Dragon men!” They’re pretty much naked, too, which I can’t blame them for. I speed up while Willow stays behind. We’re on our way back from the courthouse, marriage license in hand.
We could have darted into the first wedding chapel we encountered, but back in Emerald Creek, Willow made me pack a suit “so no one can say we didn’t plan this.” She sent me links to hotels with all-included wedding packages with a bunch of over-excited emojis, signed off “can’t wait, xoxo,” then promptly called to say this was “just in case someone wanted to see proof.”
Proof that we’re a real couple, marrying for love even if no one saw it coming.
My plan once in Vegas was to get married and get out. But now I have Willow to take into account, and she seems to have other ideas.
Giving in to these is the least I can do.
She catches up to me. “Did you see those tats?”
“Uh, yeah, pretty cool,” I lie. I didn’t notice tattoos. I was too busy getting out of the heat while evaluating the likelihood that one of them might screw up and inhale flames. Would their insides burn? What would be the life-saving gesture a random passerby—me—would need to administer to save their life?
She falls in step with me. “You must have seen this a million times.”
“Me? No. Why d’you say that? It’s my first time in Vegas.”
She stops in her tracks, mouth agape. “Noah Callaway!”
I stop and turn to face her. She’s got her fists on her hips, fire in her eyes hotter than any flamethrower could summon, and a sheen of sweat on her forehead that I wouldn’t mind—
“You little poser. You can drop the cool nerd act with me!” She beams a smile brighter than the brutal desert sun.
I raise my hands in protest but can’t help the burst of laughter coming from my chest. “I’m notposing. I uh…” My laughter gets caught in my throat. I drop my head and mirror her fist-on-hip pose. “I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’m sorry. I’m gonna make an effort.”
She nods. “Good. Now come here.” She whips her phone out and pulls me against her. “Smile! Pretend you’re about to marry the love of your life.” Our joined faces are staring back at us in the rectangle of her phone, smiles plastered on, and Willow’s eyes light up. She takes the picture then lets me go, the sweet scent of her skin lingering around me. “I’ll post it on ECHoes later,” she says, referring to Emerald Creek’s own social media, one I created to keep everyone safe yet constantly in touch.
As she looks at the screen, a shadow mars her face, quickly replaced by another beaming smile. “I bet you’d like the casino.” She pockets her phone as we cross the street in front of our hotel. “D’you want to go real quick?”
“What makes you think I’d like it?”
“It’s… math. You like math, don’t you?”
