I looked at Drew.
“You wrote vows?”
He looked offended. “Baby, I’m a romantic.”
“You once told me carbs and God’s favor maintain your body.”
“Romantic and scientifically accurate.”
Vampire Elvis nodded solemnly. “The groom may proceed.”
Drew turned fully toward me.
For one dangerous second, all the jokes dropped away.
He held my hands in his, and suddenly the chapel, the fog machine, Jace filming, Lana sniffling, Vampire Elvis waiting with rhinestone patience—everything blurred except him.
“I saw you first,” Drew said.
I laughed through instant tears. “You’re really starting there?”
“Absolutely.”
“Of course you are.”
His smile softened.
“On a beach in a white dress and cowboy boots,” he said, “looking at the wrong guy like he was the whole story. I remember thinking, no. That girl is trouble. That girl is mean. That girl is going to ruin someone.” His thumb brushed mine. “Then you ruined me.”
My chest broke open.
“In the best way,” he added quickly. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“You’re bossy.”
“You love bossy.”
“I do.” His voice went rough. “I love you bossy. I love you scared. I love you brave. I love you in my jersey, in my hoodies,in grocery stores, in snowstorms, in airport terminals, on soccer fields, on my couch, in my kitchen, and apparently in haunted Elvis chapels.”
Someone behind us sniffed.
Probably Jace.
Possibly me.
“I promise to feed you before you bite.”
A laugh moved through the chapel.
“I promise to provide electrolytes, protein, Thai food at midnight, and coffee before all major emotional confrontations.”
I wiped under one eye.
“I promise to take care of your hamstring even when you pretend you’re fine.”
“No athlete says that and means anything but catastrophic denial,” I whispered.
