Ben jumps right in, telling her all about the hotel fountains, the helicopter, the dancing, and the chapel named after Graceland. He shares that we created a Viva Las Vegas bucket list and my mother grins from ear to ear.
She never once looks disappointed. But that’s my mother. Only ever wanting what’s best for me. Never once considering what she might want in the equation. Not even for a second. Because that’s her way. She’s always put me before herself. And that’s when it hits me.
Hard.
Tears spill down my cheeks before I even realize I’m crying.
“Honey,” she says softly. “What’s wrong?”
Ben turns to me, eyes full of concern. “Baby?”
“I’m so sorry we did this without you, Mom. It… well, it…” My words collapse into sobs.
Before I can catch my breath, Ben’s arm wraps around me, pulling me against his chest.
“It was my fault,” he says gently. “I’d just watchedViva Las Vegas. We visited the Hoover Dam, swam at the resort, and went dancing like we were living our own version of the movie. When we drove past the Graceland Wedding Chapel with the Elvis impersonator, I practically begged her to marry me.”
I look up, expecting disappointment masked in gentle reassurance. But instead, my mother is glowing.
Glowing!
“You had Elvis marry you?” she asks, eyes shining.
“Yes, ma’am. I even have a picture.” Ben crouches beside her chair and pulls out his phone. They lean in together, smiling so brightly I swear the Rockefeller Christmas tree couldn’t outshine them.
And suddenly I’m crying for a whole new reason.
“Aww.” Ben laughs softly. “Come here, Mrs. Banks.”
“Mrs. Graceland Montgomery Banks,” my mother tries on for size. “It has a nice ring to it.”
An hour later,Winnie bursts through the door, squealing like someone who just won the lottery.
If only she knew.
Ben offers to take us all out for dinner, but Mom insists we do it properly. She and Winnie want a real celebration. Ben and I promise to come back this weekend for dinner and a small cake, the four of us together.
As we head for the door, a thought suddenly hits me.Ugh. Do I need to look up what Elvis had at his wedding?Hell, Mom and Winnie are probably going to be serving peanut butter and banana sandwiches for dinner, to celebrate Elvis style. Poor Ben. If only he realized what he was getting himself into marrying me. Yet, somehow through all the laughter and tears, my heart has never felt more at home.
Sunlight slipsthrough the sheer curtains, painting soft gold across the bed. I wake up warm.
Not just physically, but emotionally. The kind of warm that settles into your bones and makes the world feel safe before your eyes are even open. This feeling is new. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
There’s an arm around my waist. A steady heartbeat behind me. For a long second I lie still, listening to Ben breathe, letting the reality drift in slowly.
I’m married.To him.
My lips curve into a sleepy smile. I tilt my head just enough to look back at him. His hair is a mess, lashes resting against his cheeks, mouth slightly parted like he forgot to close it before falling asleep.
My heart does an actual flip. I carefully slide my hand over his arm, tracing lazy circles, and he stirs.
“Mmm,” he murmurs. “You’re still here.”
I laugh softly. “I live here now, remember?”
His eyes blink open before he focuses. And then he gives me that dreamy, magnetic smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Banks.”
My face stretches under the strain of my happy grin. “Good morning, Mr. Banks.”
