He laughed. “No. God, no. Jax would have an actual aneurysm. His head might literally explode.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“We’ll figure it out later.” He shrugged, still on one knee, still looking at me like I was everything. “We won’t know if you’re pregnant until we get back from Tennessee. We can take the test then. Together and whatever it says, we’ll handle it. Together.”
“So it would just be us,” I said slowly, processing. “In Vegas. No family. No friends. Just...”
“Just us.” He nodded. “We can have a big party later. A reception, a celebration, whatever you want. But the moment itself? The vows? That’s ours. Just ours.”
I stared at him.
This ridiculously infuriating and wonderful man had somehow become the center of my entire universe.
He was kneeling on my bathroom floor, proposing to me without a ring, asking me to run away to Vegas and marry him while a pregnancy test sat unopened on the counter behind us.
It was insane.
It was perfect.
It was so utterly, completelyus.
A smile spread across my face. I bit down on my bottom lip, feeling the grin trying to split my face in half.
“Let’s do it.”
Owen’s face lit up like sunrise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I was laughing now, tears streaming down my face. “Let’s fly to Vegas and get married like two crazy people who have completely lost their minds.”
He surged to his feet, sweeping me into his arms and spinning me around. The small bathroom made it awkward; my foot knocked against the toilet, his elbow hit the towel rack, but neither of us cared.
“I love you,” he said against my hair.
“I love you too. Even when you eat all the pizza.”
“It wasone time.”
“It was three times.”
“Your memory is suspiciously accurate.”
“I have receipts.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his smile so wide it looked like it might hurt. “We’re really doing this.”
“We’re really doing this,” I confirmed.
“Vegas.”
“Vegas.”
“This weekend.”
“This weekend.”
He kissed me then, deep and thorough and full of promise. When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, I glanced at the pregnancy test still sitting on the counter.
“Should we...?”
