‘Seems a bit, erm, excessive for a fake wedding,’ I say, trying to squash my nerves down. ‘Is there a place that does everything on the cheap? I only have half a day free. And, erm, I only have so much left on my credit card.’ The heat rises up from my neck. ‘Because I’ve had to put so much Barbie?—’
‘Hey,’ he says gently. ‘Please. I agreed to this. I’m happy to pay for all of it.’ He lifts my chin up. ‘It’s no problem. If that’s okay with you? I don’t want to seem… un-Dutch about it.’
I nod. My credit card will love Matteo until the end of time for this.
‘Good. I’ll do a search for quickie weddings.’
While he scrolls, I take the opportunity to imagine for a tiny second that this is real. My heart skips a beat. It would be so unlike me to do something so reckless as to get married in Las Vegas. My dad would kill me, for one thing. Never mind what Ged and Liam would make of me not including them in every minute detail beforehand. The fallout would be catastrophic. Whatever we do, however we do it, it must be done swiftly to quash any romantic feelings that Birdie and Luke may still have, but without destroying our working relationships with them. Then Matteo and I are free to get on with our romantic break and laugh all of this madness off. We can finish the gigs for Nancy, and we can do all of the crazy pre-moon activities that still remain on the list.
‘I think Macy’s is this way.’ Matteo is studying his phone for directions. ‘They have a whole floor dedicated to quickie weddings and tux hire.’
I take a deep breath. ‘We’re really doing this, are we?’
‘We really are.’ Matteo sweeps me towards him in an unusual public display of affection. ‘We have to put a stop to Birdie and Luke.’
I couldn’t agree more. They are becoming obsessed.
* * *
We walk the ten minutes to Macy’s talking about Matteo’s many work commitments. He has left an events manager in charge in Spain, but they have been ringing him every single day.
‘I’m sorry my work is keeping me from you,’ he says.
‘I’m sorry my work and my duties as best woman are keeping me fromyou.’
‘It’s so good to see you though,’ Matteo says almost shyly.
‘I’m glad I came.’
‘Me too.’
My heart is singing a high C note right now. It’s smashing imaginary wine glasses across Las Vegas as Matteo cups my face, his mouth hovering over mine before he kisses me. Our lips slide tenderly together for a sweet, loving moment. I open my eyes to see him looking at me in the most caring way and I know he feels the same.
No sooner do we step foot in the bridal department of the iconic Macy’s store than a personal shopper pounces on us.
‘Do you have an appointment?’
I shake my head.
‘Follow me,’ she instructs, eyeing us up and down. She frogmarches us over to a fitting room. ‘Wait here. We’re very busy today. Half the city is getting married.’
Within minutes, someone is ushering us to sit on the chaise longue and they are placing two flutes of champagne on the table.
‘Is this usual?’ I hiss to him, taking a sip. It’s delicious.
He shrugs, clinking my glass. ‘We should get married more often.’
A flamboyant assistant breezes in. ‘What theme are we having?’
Matteo and I look blankly at each other.
‘Classic, retro, celebrity, trashy-chic, vintage, zombie?’
‘Unplanned and spontaneous,’ I say. ‘But fun and quirky. We’re in the music business.’
Her eyes light up. ‘Leave it with me.’
I’d rather not, but it seems rude to decline the offer of help, and I don’t know what the etiquette in America is. Within minutes, she returns with a lot of white garments slung over her arm. They do not look like traditional wedding dresses.
