Loud.
Real.
The limo slowed in front of the chapel.
A neon sign blinked above the entrance.
TILL DEATH OR BRUNCH.
I stared at it.
“Classy.”
“You picked it,” Drew said.
“I picked it ironically.”
“You booked the vampire Elvis package.”
“Again. Ironically.”
“You added fog machine.”
“For ambiance.”
“You are the love of my life.”
I turned to him.
He said it easily now.
Like breathing.
Like truth had become muscle memory.
It still knocked me sideways every time.
I leaned closer, bouquet between us.
“Should I tell everyone I’m pregnant?”
Drew froze.
I held my face still for three glorious seconds.
Then he narrowed his eyes.
“Texas.”
“What?”
“No fake babies.”
“We could do a fake baby announcement. Very full circle. Very brand consistent.”
“I have created a monster.”
“You love the monster.”
