Chapter 14 John #2
“Hm, what nickname do you prefer, or should I just keep calling you my sexy biker baddie?”
“Definitely not that.”
I close my eyes for half a second, and for the first time in a long time, I feel something in my chest loosen, because… I think he might actually be right. He doesn’t know how right, but he’s right.
I didn’t promise Luke I’d never move on; I just didn’t believe I ever could.
And here’s this ridiculous, loud, stupidly attractive, affectionate man who has made me laugh more in forty-eight hours than I have in years, and he’s standing in a stupid Vegas chapel asking me to choose something good, something fun.
Something like him.
Sure, he thought he was only attracted to women until very recently, like, a few hours ago, but he’s been flirting with me and touching me all weekend, and he was so quick to offer to touch my dick.
Blake didn’t know he was bi until Liam. Is that why Chad keeps saying that I’m his Liam? Oh my god. Do I understand Chad?
I’m probably going to regret this in the morning, but right now, I’m telling myself that maybe there’s a reason Chad and I ended up here tonight, and… well, I’ve really sucked at saying no to Chad this weekend.
“Fuck it,” I hear myself say.
His jaw drops open, and for the first time all weekend, he’s silent, at least for a second while he processes because then he’s screaming, “Wait! Do you mean ‘fuck it’ as in let’s get married?! John, are we getting married? Are you saying yes? Holy shit, oh my god! Wait, wait, wait.”
Chad laughs, quickly dropping down to one knee, wobbling for a second before he confidently looks up at me with the biggest smile as if this really is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“John, will you marry me in this Vegas chapel and make all my dreams come true? I’ll be the happiest man in the world if you say yes! ”
I sigh, resigned that I’m going to do this because I can’t help it, I’m smiling too. And Chad is right: this is fun and spontaneous, and those are two things I haven’t focused on in a long time and I’ve missed them. So, I nod. “Okay.”
“Yes! He said yes!” Chad shouts into the empty chapel. But a moment later, the man from the front desk appears like he was eavesdropping on this entire conversation just waiting to hear the words.
“Oh!” he says brightly, clasping his hands together. “Well! Congratulations! That was fast.”
I snort a laugh “Yeah. Looks like we’re doing this.”
“We are!” Chad says, still on his knees, hugging my legs now and it’s taking a lot of effort for me to not topple over. “He said yes, and I’m going to be so good at marriage! You just wait.”
“Stand up, Princess,” I mutter to him, and he grins, hurrying to do as I say.
“I love when you call me that. I think it was supposed to be an insult when you first used it, but I don’t care. It sounds like you think I’m special and important and I love it now, hubby. Oh! That can be my nickname for you!”
The chapel guy is also excited, clapping before he says, “Fantastic! If I can just have both of your ID’s and a credit card, then I’ll go get Elvis and we can perform the wedding.”
It all happens so quickly; we give him the necessary identification and Chad eagerly insists on paying. As the man turns to walk away, he yells, “Elvis! We’ve got another one!”
Another one? How many drunken catastrophes do they perform in a night?
Chad wraps his arms around my neck once more before I can get lost thinking about that too hard. “John, we’re going to have the best wedding ever! Should we call our friends? Should we write vows? Do people write vows in Vegas? I feel like I have so many things to say!”
“Chad,” I interrupt his ramble. “You don’t have to write anything or tell anyone.” I want to add that this isn’t that kind of wedding, and tomorrow our friends will probably laugh about this, but I don’t. What did Chad say earlier? That sounds like a future John problem.
Tonight, I’m going to focus on having fun.
“I just have so much love to give, John! So much, and I can’t wait to give it to you.”
Give me his love? Why does that sound so funny? Is he talking about sex? Or maybe that’s a song? “Hey, Chad, you do realize you’re about to marry me, right? As in, a man? Didn’t you say you were straight earlier?”
“I know! And obviously I’m not straight, I just didn’t realize it until I was staring at your dick. I can’t wait. I told you, you’re my Liam… but better. Just don’t tell Blake; he’s obsessed with Liam.”
Before I can reply, the door opens again and a man dressed as Elvis in a white jumpsuit with rhinestones and giant sunglasses, and what’s clearly a wig, steps into the chapel.
“Well, well,” Elvis says, voice deep and theatrical. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a weddin’.”
“Oh my god!” Chad laughs, clapping excitedly. “Hi, Elvis! I’m so happy!”
Elvis nods respectfully. “I can tell.”
Meanwhile, I’m trying to process the reality that I, a fully grown man with decent judgment most days, am about to marry this ridiculous man in the middle of a sexual identity crisis with a heart too big for his own good…
in a chapel with plastic rose petals glued to the carpet and a cheap Elvis impersonator.
Yet for some reason, I’m also excited about it. I haven’t felt excited about anything in a long time, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this kind of happy-nervous anticipation is.
Elvis gestures toward the altar. “If y’all would like to step this way, we can get the ceremony started.”
Chad grabs my hand instantly. “Come on, hubby!”
I stumble a little as I let him pull me forward toward the stupidest, wildest decision I’ve made in a long damn time.
“Before we begin, we just need to know which package you want,” fake Elvis says as he pulls out a fucking brochure from his pocket.
Chad rips it from his hands and flips it open, scanning it quickly. “Oh! Definitely the most expensive package.”
“Good choice for you two love birds. You hear that, Scotty? They want the Love Me Tender package.”
Package? This is the tackiest thing I’ve ever been a part of, and somehow Chad is smiling like tonight really is the best night of his life.
It’s got to be the alcohol in him, I know that, but it’s also kind of nice to pretend that someone, especially someone so kind and really fucking hot, is this happy about the idea of marrying me.
“Alrighty, you two, we got Scotty here as a witness and the photographer, so we’ll get started.” He clears his throat as Scotty hands him some papers. “Dearly beloved—”
Chad grabs my forearm. “That’s us!”
I stare straight ahead, suppressing my smile. “Yes, Chad. It’s us.”
Elvis continues, unfazed by the interruption. “We are gathered here today to join these two souls in holy matrimony, Vegas style.”
Elvis turns to Chad. “Do you, Chad… Sinclair.” He squints at his binder. “Do you take John Sullivan here to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do. So much, like, times infinity.” He wipes under his eye, chuckling. “Oh god, I’m crying. I can’t believe this!”
Elvis nods like he sees this every day. “Beautiful.” Then he looks at me. “And do you, John Sullivan… take Chad Sinclair… to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Chad holds his breath, and for a second, I’m caught up in the absurdity of it all.
I never thought I’d be asked this question by anyone, especially not a Vegas Elvis.
I’ve spent over a decade closed off, convincing myself that this door was welded shut.
That if I moved on, I’d be betraying someone who wasn’t even here to judge me.
That I didn’t deserve to be happy because he couldn’t be.
But Chad? Chad has cracked something open in me just by existing. By being ridiculous and happy and relentlessly alive. It’s impossible not to feel around him.
And I hear myself say, “I do.”
Followed by Chad squealing. What is with this grown-ass man squealing all the damn time? Why is it somehow not even annoying?
“Okay, here are your rings if you want to put those on each other.”
I take the ring from Elvis. It’s probably fake but the gold is pretty convincing. I put it on Chad’s finger, and he gasps. When he slips the one he’s holding onto my hand, I stare at it for a moment. “How did they know our ring sizes?”
“Oh, I told Scotty when I gave him my credit card. Perfect fit though, like we’re meant to be.” He smiles at me like nothing has ever made him happier. Maybe it hasn’t. Maybe we really will make each other happier.
“Well,” Elvis continues, “I understand y’all have written your own vows?”
I turn sharply. “We didn’t—”
“I want to go!” Chad interrupts. “I didn’t write them down, obviously, but I have them in my heart.”
“Chad, let’s make sure we keep this PG, okay?”
“Ah, yes, right, right.” Then he leans in and says to fake Elvis without even lowering his volume, “He doesn’t want me to talk about his dick piercing.”
“Jesus, Chad! What did I just say?”
“Oh yeah, my bad. Please don’t take your ‘I do’ back, please.”
I laugh. “I’m not going to take anything back, just go.”
“Ahem.” He starts clearing his throat and taking a steadying breath.
I can only imagine what’s going to come out of his mouth.
“John, you’re the hottest biker baddie I’ve ever seen.
But also? You’re kind and protective. You take care of me.
You let me touch you even though you pretend to hate it, which is adorable.
You might be standoffish, but I think you have the softest spot in your heart for me and that makes me feel really special.
I know you think you’re all rough and tough and scary, but I feel safe with you. ”
Something tightens in my chest, because even though he said most of this shit as he was trying to convince me to agree to marry him tonight, somehow it all sounds more real when he’s labeled it as vows.