Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
SILAS
We made it to the clerk’s office just as they were locking the doors. Luckily, the guy was a football fan and recognized me, so he ushered us in, and we were the last couple of the day to get a license.
Then we stopped to get me a new shirt, I didn’t want to get married in the one I had on, since it was too casual compared to her dress. But Brooke assured me my jeans were fine, so I changed in the car.
She watched.
The white wedding chapel we found smells like roses, champagne, and bad decisions. And, yeah, this might be crazy, but I’ve never felt surer about anything in my life.
I go all in on the ultimate package—everything except the Elvis impersonator.
Brooke chooses a pink bouquet, soft and bright against her silver dress.
I opt for a bow tie, looping it around my neck with hands that are steadier than I expect them to be.
There’s a photographer. Two chapel employees agree to be our witnesses without blinking. Like this happens all the time.
Maybe it does.
Elvis may not be in the building, but we still get to choose “Can’t Help Falling in Love” as the song we walk down the aisle to. It feels right, considering it’s partially responsible for how we ended up here in the first place.
Thank God for Ferris wheels.
The music starts. Brooke laughs as she walks down the aisle, enjoying herself and the absurdity of the moment, surrounded by neon lights. I’m having way more fun than I should as well.
Brooke finally stands in front of me in her silver dress, holding the small pink bouquet that she must have gotten before walking down the aisle to me. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s looking at me like she’s trying to decide if this is insane or fun. Maybe both. Probably both.
The officiant, who’s wearing a gold suit, smiles at us like he’s been doing this all night. “Rings?”
I look back at Brooke, and we both start laughing. “Uh, we didn’t get that far.”
“That’s not a problem.” He waves to a woman standing off to the side, and she walks over to us, holding a velvet tray. Yep, totally normal.
“Pick one you like,” I say to Brooke.
Her hand hovers over the tray. “Hmm … this is tough. They’re actually all kind of pretty. Simple but pretty.” She plucks a plain gold band and hands it over to me. “Your turn.”
“I’m easy. This one works.” I hand Brooke a thick, solid gold band.
“Okay, now that we have the rings, let’s get started,” the officiant says, clearing his throat.
Our eyes meet, and there’s no hesitation when I take her hands in mine.
The officiant steps forward like he’s about to deliver a sermon and a headline.
“Dearly beloved, who wandered in off the Strip because the doors were open,” he booms, “we are gathered here today at this fine establishment of love, luck, and legally binding decisions to witness the joining of these two souls.”
Brooke bites her lip. I swear she’s trying not to laugh.
The vows are short, but surprisingly meaningful for a spontaneous wedding.
Brooke laughs softly as I slide her ring on her finger. But I don’t miss the tremble in her fingers.
“You okay?” I tilt my head, looking at her.
She nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m good. We’re really doing this. I mean … wow.”
Something possessive and real makes my chest tighten.
I run a finger down her cheek to her jaw. “You’re so beautiful. And mine.”
She leans into my hand and blushes. “Yours.”
When it’s my turn, Brooke slides the ring on my finger, pausing to look at my face. “No backing out now.”
I laugh because making light of any situation is what I do. And in this case, it’s safer than admitting I’d run through a brick wall for her right now. “I got this. I thrive under pressure.”
She snorts. “Maybe, but this isn’t a fourth-quarter interception opportunity.”
I shake my head and smile. “Nah. This is much better.”
The officiant interrupts our flirting. “By the power vested in me—”
Holy. Shit.
Husband.
When he says I can kiss my wife, I don’t even wait for him to finish speaking.
I wrap my hand, the one with my ring on it, around her neck and pull her in for a kiss. Everything disappears as we get lost in each other. And when Brooke drops her bouquet, she winds her arms around my neck, and this time, she deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue inside my mouth.
The officiant taps on my shoulder. “Hate to disturb, but we have another couple waiting.”
We pull apart reluctantly.
He gestures to a couple behind us—who honestly look too blitzed to be getting married, but who am I to judge?
I look back at Brooke, and she starts to laugh.
“Oh my God, Silas. We really did that.” She covers her mouth with her hand.
I grin. “Follow-through is one of my strengths.”
She pushes my chest. “I knew you were trouble.”
“You married me though.” I hold up my ring finger.
Her smile softens. “Yeah, I did, husband.”
We leave the chapel in a limo that was somehow just sitting outside. Like it was an Uber limo or something. Who cares? My wife is sitting in my lap.
“Oh, Silas. They have more champagne.” She leans forward and taps on the divider. “Sir, can we have the champagne back here?”
He lowers the glass just enough for us to hear him. “Yes, ma’am. That’s for all my guests.” He raises the glass, and it’s just us again.
Brooke wiggles off my lap and scoots over to the bar. “This one looks good.” She holds up a bottle.
“Sure, that’s fine. I gotta admit though, I don’t know a whole lot about this stuff.” I take it from her hand.
The cork pops, and she holds two flutes in her hands. “To the top, husband.”
“Yes, wife. Your every wish is my command.” I smirk.
“As it should be. Now give me a kiss.” She puckers her lips and leans in.
I set the bottle in the cupholder next to me, cup her face, and kiss her fully on the mouth.
When I pull away, her eyes are still closed, and she sighs. “Best night ever.”
“I hope you’re saying the same thing come morning.” I chuckle.
“Of course I will.” She hands me a glass. “To my husband.”
“To my wife.”
We both take a drink, and when she spots the button to the roof, she practically bounces. “A moonroof! We’ve gotta stand up. Come up here with me.”
I laugh, but pull my body up and through the window. Her hair is blowing behind her, and she’s looking around at everything with awe.
I wrap an arm around her waist and tuck her in close to me. “You happy?”
“So happy. I mean, this is seriously, like, the best day ever. For both of us!” She tilts her head up for a kiss.
When the limo stops at a light, people honk and wave at us. I swear this city never stops moving.
Brooke leans across the roof and yells to them. “We just got married!” She waves her hand out in front of her, and I can’t help but laugh. “And my husband just won the national championship! He was even the MVP!” She points to me, and I smile and wave.
More horns honk, and our driver starts to move again.
When Brooke sways from the motion, I wrap my arm around her waist. “I got you.”
She looks up at me. “I just want to be clear … I expect a real wedding night.”
If my dick wasn’t already semi-hard from her sitting in my lap, it would be now.
“Okay … and by that, you mean?” Why the fuck am I asking this question? Oh, right—because I do actually care about her.
She grabs my shirt and pulls it, making my body bend down to her. “I mean, I want to fuck my husband.”
Never in a million years would I have expected those words to come out of her mouth. But she’s on a roll with the surprises tonight. And her confidence is a huge turn-on.
A wicked smile spreads across my face. “I can make that happen.”
“I guess we probably shouldn’t stay at the same hotel as the team, right?”
“Probably not. I don’t really want my wedding night to be paid for by my athletic department.” I pull out my phone. “Let me see what I can find available.”
I scroll through my phone and find some kind of luxury suite at the Bellagio. I book it, then crouch down and tap on the divider. “Can you take us to the Bellagio instead?”
“You got it,” he replies.
Brooke comes down and shivers. “It’s getting a little chilly now.” Her head tips back as she finishes her glass of champagne. “More, please.”
I fill her up, then finish off my glass and refill my own. We’re celebrating after all.
The ride is pretty fast, but in that short time, we’ve managed to finish off the bottle.
When the driver pulls up in front of the hotel, he exits the car and comes around to open our door.
“Thanks, man.” I step out of the car, slide him a few hundred-dollar bills, and then hold my hand out for Brooke.
“Thank you so much for the ride. It was so fun!” Brooke smiles at him as she takes my hand.
“My pleasure. Congratulations.” He nods and shuts the door. “Oh, and make sure you make a wish in the fountains tomorrow. Have a good rest of your night.”
“I wonder how many people he’s had in his limo. I bet that guy has some stories.” I look at Brooke, and she nods.
“Right? Probably a lot of famous people.” She giggles.
We walk through the doors to the hotel, and we see Ace, Aston, and a few of the other younger guys walking out.
“Yo! Little Linson! Arbuckle! What are you guys up to?” Ace picks Brooke up in a hug. Then Aston gives her a hug.
Ace holds out a fist to me, and I reluctantly bump it.
Not because I don’t love the guy. I do, but he’s trying to get under my skin with Brooke tonight.
And also, I want to get up to the room. I’ve waited a long time to have this woman look at me the way she has tonight.
I want to hold her, kiss her, and make love to the girl of my dreams.
“We’re just hanging out, driving around and stuff.” Brooke shrugs.
“Together? Just the two of you?” Aston asks.
Fucker.
“Uh-huh,” Brooke mumbles.
It’s time to take matters into my own hands. Brooke isn’t drunk, but tipsy enough that the truth serum is in full force, I suspect.