CHAPTER
NINE
SILAS
We madeit to the clerk’s office just as they were locking the doors. Luckily, the guy was a football fan and recognized me, so he ushered us in, and we were the last couple of the day to get a license.
Then we stopped to get me a new shirt, I didn’t want to get married in the one I had on, since it was too casual compared to her dress. But Brooke assured me my jeans were fine, so I changed in the car.
She watched.
The white wedding chapel we found smells like roses, champagne, and bad decisions. And, yeah, this might be crazy, but I’ve never felt surer about anything in my life.
I go all in on the ultimate package—everything except the Elvis impersonator. Brooke chooses a pink bouquet, soft and bright against her silver dress. I opt for a bow tie, looping it around my neck with hands that are steadier than I expect them to be. There’s a photographer. Two chapel employees agree to be our witnesses without blinking. Like this happens all the time.
Maybe it does.
Elvis may not be in the building, but we still get to choose “Can’t Help Falling in Love” as the song we walk down the aisle to. It feels right, considering it’s partially responsible for how we ended up here in the first place.
Thank God for Ferris wheels.
The music starts. Brooke laughs as she walks down the aisle, enjoying herself and the absurdity of the moment, surrounded by neon lights. I’m having way more fun than I should as well.
Brooke finally stands in front of me in her silver dress, holding the small pink bouquet that she must have gotten before walking down the aisle to me. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s looking at me like she’s trying to decide if this is insane or fun. Maybe both. Probably both.
The officiant, who’s wearing a gold suit, smiles at us like he’s been doing this all night. “Rings?”
I look back at Brooke, and we both start laughing. “Uh, we didn’t get that far.”
“That’s not a problem.” He waves to a woman standing off to the side, and she walks over to us, holding a velvet tray. Yep, totally normal.
“Pick one you like,” I say to Brooke.
Her hand hovers over the tray. “Hmm … this is tough. They’re actually all kind of pretty. Simple but pretty.” She plucks a plain gold band and hands it over to me. “Your turn.”
“I’m easy. This one works.” I hand Brooke a thick, solid gold band.
“Okay, now that we have the rings, let’s get started,” the officiant says, clearing his throat.
Our eyes meet, and there’s no hesitation when I take her hands in mine.
The officiant steps forward like he’s about to deliver a sermonanda headline.
“Dearly beloved, who wandered in off the Strip because the doors were open,” he booms, “we are gathered here today at thisfine establishment of love, luck, and legally binding decisions to witness the joining of these two souls.”
Brooke bites her lip. I swear she’s trying not to laugh.
The vows are short, but surprisingly meaningful for a spontaneous wedding.
Brooke laughs softly as I slide her ring on her finger. But I don’t miss the tremble in her fingers.
“You okay?” I tilt my head, looking at her.
She nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m good. We’re really doing this. I mean … wow.”
Something possessive and real makes my chest tighten.
I run a finger down her cheek to her jaw. “You’re so beautiful. And mine.”
