Chapter 23 #2
Sylus follows my gaze, and his grin spreads.
“We’re done here,” he announces abruptly, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the van.
I stumble slightly, caught off guard, as he sets the box down in the back before turning to me again.
His hand doesn’t let go of mine as he glances left, then right, and then pulls me across the street.
“Come on, Sparkle,” he says teasingly. “Let’s do something stupid.”
I arch an eyebrow, trying to keep up with his long strides. “I could just do you,”
He throws his head back with a wicked laugh that sends a thrill skittering down my spine. “Or… you could marry me, baby.”
I skid to a stop as we reach the pink vending machine, and my eyes flick to the glowing screen. Heart-shaped speakers frame the display, and bold letters ask, Is today your wedding day?
“It’s not legal,” Sylus reassures me quickly, watching me closely. His voice softens, the teasing edge melting away. “Just fun. But, God, I want to marry you. Marry me, Sparkle?”
Marry me.
It’s not real, not legal, just another one of his impulsive, crazy ideas, but he isn’t joking. Not entirely.
It’s ridiculous, really. Sylus Walker, standing in front of a pink vending machine, proposes the most absurd thing with absolute sincerity. And yet, my heart trips over itself, aching in a way that terrifies me.
Because, in some reckless corner of my mind, I don’t want to say no.
I tell myself it’s the adrenaline, the rush of doing something absurd and spontaneous, but deep down, I know better. This man has wormed his way into places I’ve kept guarded for years, and the thought of being his, even like this, has me spiraling in ways I can’t even begin to untangle.
“Tell me, baby,” he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing along my skin and making my heart ache, his lips barely grazing mine. “Yes, no, maybe so?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, the word escaping before I can think. It’s instinctive, unfiltered, and the moment it’s out, his lips are on mine.
The kiss is hard, sudden, and utterly consuming. It’s not just a kiss.
It’s a promise.
A claiming.
A declaration.
His hand slips to the back of my neck, holding me close as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
I won’t.
Never again.
When he finally pulls back, his breath mingles with mine as he grins.
“God, I love you,” he whispers, the words so soft I almost don’t catch them.
Almost. But they settle deep in my chest, igniting something I’ve been too scared to name until now.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me next to him in front of the machine, his grin wide enough to light up the Strip. “Let’s do this.”
The screen of the machine flickers to life when he pushes the start button.
Welcome!
Let’s get married.
Name of the Groom?
Sylus types in his name with a grin spreading over his whole face.
Sylus Walker.
The screen blinks, then moves to the next question.
Name of the Bride?
Sylus nudges me with his shoulder when I hesitate. “Your turn, Sparkle.”
My fingers hover over the keypad. A nervous laugh bubbles up, but I quickly swallow it, trying to steady the pounding of my heart. It’s just a joke, a silly moment in a city full of them.
But I want this.
Novalee Sparkle Evans
The screen changes again.
Say yes, share your vows, and kiss the bride!
Two big YES buttons light up beneath the question, one for each of us. Sylus presses his without a second’s hesitation. I glance at him, my finger hovering over mine. The way he looks at me, so sure, so open, makes me press the button.
The machine chimes in cheerful confirmation.
Vows.
I need a vow.
My throat feels dry as I clear it, suddenly hyperaware of how fast my heart is beating. My gaze locks on his, and all the teasing falls away. It’s just us, standing on a street corner, making promises to a machine. And yet, it feels like more.
I take a breath, and the words come without me even thinking. “You’re my person. Forever. I’ll never get enough of you.”
His grin softens, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say his gray eyes have a sheen of tears in them. He holds out his pinky, and I hook mine around it. “You’re not just my person. You’re the owner of my heart. You own me.”
We press our joined fingers to our lips, sealing the vows with a shared breath of laughter before Sylus gives me the softest kiss he’s ever given me.
A sudden click pulls us apart, both of us startled. I blink, my lips still tingling from the kiss.
“What was that?” I ask, glancing around.
Sylus grins as the machine spits out a glossy photo.
He snatches it up and hands it to me with a flourish.
It’s us, pinkies intertwined, kissing like the world around us doesn’t exist. Smiling against each other’s lips.
We look… happy. Genuinely, stupidly happy.
And the sight of it does something to my chest, like my heart’s trying to burst through my ribs.
Congratulations to the happy couple!
The machine hums again, spitting out a second piece of paper. Its tiny printer whirs, and Sylus grabs the paper eagerly.
Certificate of Marriage for Novalee Sparkle Evans and Sylus Walker.
He looks at it like he’s won the lottery, his grin so wide it’s almost boyish. “You can keep the picture.” He holds the certificate up triumphantly. “I’m keeping the piece of paper that tells me you’re mine.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you said yes.” His eyes mischievously glint as he folds the paper with deliberate care and slides it into his wallet like it’s a priceless treasure.
He grabs my hand again and pulls me across the street to the van. Opening the door with a casual swing, he gestures for me to climb in. “Come on, wifey. Let’s get you home. I need to consummate this union.”
I snort. “Ridiculous indeed.”
“And yet, here we are,” he quips, putting his hands on my hips to help me hop in.
With a laugh, I slide into the seat, still clutching the photo.
I keep glancing down at it the entire ride, tracing the outlines of our smiles, the joy captured by that silly machine.
My anxiety is surprisingly quiet. It’s like my mind is too busy replaying the last few minutes, the absurdity, the sweetness, to let fear take the wheel.
When we pull up to the mansion, Sylus hops out first, grabbing my bag and purse without a word.
I climb out after him with my box, holding it carefully in my hands as we head inside, making our way to the second floor.
Instead of going to his bedroom, he continues down the hall to a door I’ve never seen open.
“Wait here,” he softly commands as he opens it and steps inside, setting my bag down on the floor and my purse on the bed.
I linger in the hallway, peeking in hesitantly. It’s a guest room, neutral colors, simple decor.
Sylus takes the box from my hands, placing it on the dresser next to the door. He turns to find me still standing at the threshold, an eyebrow raised.
“Where are we?”
“Your new room,” he says matter-of-factly. “At least for now. Ric figured you’d want your own space if you’re going to be around us all the time until shit goes down.”
I blink. Of course, Ace would think of that. He knows me too well—knows how much I value even a sliver of independence. It’s thoughtful, so typically him.
But the truth is, being with them, being in their rooms, surrounded by them, their teasing, their heat, doesn’t bother me at all. Not in the way I thought it might. Instead, it’s a balm to the raw edges of loneliness I’ve carried for so long.
This sense of belonging, of being part of something bigger than myself, is what I’ve missed most in the last eight years. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m simply existing.
I’m… home.
Fuck.
Sylus sweeps me up into a bridal carry, making me squeal in surprise.
“What the hell are you doing?” I laugh, swatting at his shoulder.
“Carrying my bride over the threshold,” he replies with mock seriousness, kicking the door closed behind him.
“You know, tradition and all that.” He sets me back down on the floor before flopping on the bed, legs splayed out.
“Wanna consummate this union now, or do I have to wait for our honeymoon?”
I snort, grabbing my purse from next to him and digging through it for lip balm. “Patience, hubby. You’re already getting all the benefits of a marriage without the divorce papers.”
“Have some mints in here?” He reaches over and snatches my purse out of my hand, rummaging through it like a raccoon in a trash can. I let him dig, rolling my eyes as he mutters commentary to himself.
“A wallet, some glitter, a half-eaten granola bar… Jesus, Sparkle, is this from the Ice Age?” He pulls out a small tin, rattling it next to his ear. “Jackpot.”
“You don’t want one of those.”
“Why not?” He squints at the tin like he’s just uncovered contraband. “Are they drugs? Adderall? Am I married to a secret drug dealer?”
“You lunatic.” I chuckle, coming to stand in front of him. “They’re mints.”
He pops the lid open, peering inside. “What’s the catch, then?”
“They’re… very sour. Like, make-your-mouth-water-like-crazy sour.”
“Oh, for when you get a fuzzy mouth from weed?”
“Nope.” I grin, popping the P.
He gives me a side-eye, clearly waiting for more. I draw it out, biting my lip, then drop my voice to a husky whisper. “Wanna get the best, sloppiest blowjob of your entire life?”
His jaw drops, and his eyes go wide while they glaze over with pure, unfiltered lust. “Holy shit. Yes. Please.”
“Since you ask so nicely.” I grab a mint from the box and slip it onto my tongue. The sourness hits immediately, a burst of citrus floods my mouth with saliva and my cheeks hollow.
Sylus watches me with rapt attention, his chest rising and falling faster now. I part my lips, letting him see the way my mouth is already pooling with spit.