Prologue
COMING SOON
NOW AND FOREVER
What Happens in Vegas Stays With You
NOAH
Grayson’s holding my hand as we walk through the hotel. My son just turned five, and I love that he still wants to hold my hand.
“Wow, Daddy, I didn’t think I was hungry, but I ate a million things!” Grayson rubs his stomach and grins up at me.
My sister Goldie and her husband Milo just got married, and we enjoyed a feast afterward.
The Venetian in Las Vegas doesn’t do things halfway.
I laugh. “You did pretty good on all that fancy food. It was tasty, wasn’t it?”
“Mm-hmm. I’m gonna ask Grandma Nancy and Grandma Donna if they can make that when we get home.”
My dad chuckles behind us. “I’m sure they’d love to try, but between you and me,” he says under his breath, “I’m not sure some of those dishes are in their wheelhouse. I couldn’t even pronounce half of them.”
We wait for him to catch up to us and continue walking toward the elevators.
“I can take Grayson up to the suite,” Dad tells me. “We’ve got this, don’t we, bud,” he says to Grayson.
“Yes, we do,” Grayson says, nodding firmly.
“Okay, then. I can see where I’m not wanted,” I tease. “I might go to my room long enough to brush my teeth and leave the tie behind.”
“Ah, good plan.” Dad grins.
“Grayson, do you need anything from our room before you go to Papa’s for the night?”
“Oh! I want to get my game. Papa and I are gonna play it tonight.”
I have a feeling Grayson will be sleeping before that can happen since we’re still on Minnesota time, but maybe he’s wired enough to rally from all the wedding cake he ingested.
We walk into my suite, which is outrageous—it’s on one of the top three floors of the hotel, and is absolutely stunning. Way over the top for Grayson and me, but Dad insisted we do this up right. While I’m brushing my teeth, Grayson comes into the bathroom and leans against the ledge of the tub.
“Hey, Dad?” he asks.
I pause and glance at him. “Yeah?” I say with my mouth full of toothpaste.
“Do you think you might get married sometime?”
He looks up at me with those big brown eyes, his expression completely serious.
I spit and rinse, taking my time to dry my hands and face.
“Wow, we’re getting into the heavy topics, I see,” I say, ruffling his hair. “I don’t really see that happening for me, son. I’m not dating anyone…haven’t really since…”
Your mom, I almost say but don’t.
“Does Aunt Goldie’s wedding have you thinking about it?” I ask.
“Well, yeah, and Uncle Camden’s,” he says. “And then Uncle Dylan’s gonna get married, and Uncle Tully’s gonna get married…” He tilts his head back and forth as he recites my brothers’ names.
“Yeah, my siblings aren’t making it easy for me,” I say under my breath.
I turn and smile at my son, bending down so I’m at his level.
“We have a pretty great life, the two of us, yeah?” I say.
“Yeah,” he grins, but his expression is still concerned.
He sighs. “But it’d be nice if we had someone else taking care of us too…
so you could have company when I’m at school…
and-and I could have company too, when we’re doing other stuff.
” His eyes brighten. “Oh! And then she could come with us to family dinner at Papa’s!
And I could give her all the things we make for moms at school.
I’d have someone to take to the Mother’s Day tea.
Oh! And a brother or sister, so I’m not alone.
I’d have someone to tell all my secrets like you do with all of yours. ”
God. No one told me how much being a father would break my heart. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way, but sometimes I wonder if I feel it a little more than some, since I’m a single dad. A single dad without a mom in the picture.
Margo and I dated for years, and when she got pregnant, I thought we’d get married right away, but she didn’t want to. In fact, not long before the baby was born, she decided she didn’t want to be with me at all.
I’ve been told that it was probably the influx of hormones and all the upcoming changes, and that she was just probably having a momentary panic…that she would’ve come back to me once Grayson was born…but we’ll never know. She passed away a few days after having our son.
I’ve wrestled with all of it, her breaking up with me, the way she died, but five years later, what kills me the most is that Grayson doesn’t have a mom.
“You have Aunt Goldie…and all the new aunties coming into our lives…” I start. I put my arm around him. “It’s not the same, is it?”
He shakes his head.
Dad leans his head against the bathroom doorjamb. “Am I interrupting a family meeting?”
“No. Dad and I were just having a man-to-man,” Grayson says solemnly.
Dad and I can’t help but grin at that.
“Nothing like a man-to-man with your dad,” my dad says. “Carry on.”
“Wait, Papa. I’m coming. I’ll go grab my game.” Grayson looks at me and lifts off the tub. “I like it with just the two of us, too, Daddy,” he says. “If we had a mom around, what would she do during our man-to-mans?”
I nod thoughtfully. “Good question.”
He wraps his arms around my neck. “Night. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leans in my ear. “It’ll be Christmas!”
“Can you believe it?” I say, feigning excitement. I’m still reeling from our conversation. “I’ll be there before you wake up, okay? We’re gonna have an extra fun Christmas.”
I kiss his forehead and tell them both goodnight.
In the elevator, I set my alarm for 4:30 a.m., hoping that’s plenty of time to get to my dad’s room before Grayson wakes up. He’s usually a late sleeper, but between Christmas and the time change, he might surprise me.
***
We hit the nightclub, my sister making us promise we’ll all dance. I try like hell to shake my mood, the talk with Grayson threatening to pull me under. Dylan’s eyes go wide when I agree to not only one shot but two.
“Okay, then!” he says, laughing. “We need to bring Noah to Vegas more often!” He points at me as he speeds to the bar before I can change my mind.
I’m the oldest brother. The serious, practical, get-things-done one.
Not that my brothers and sister are slackers—they get shit done too—but I’m the one they call when they’re in trouble, or when they need advice…
or when they want a custom-made lakefront house built in the shortest amount of time possible.
“First time in Vegas?” a sexy voice says to my left.
I look over and see a woman who makes me feel drunk before I’ve even taken my first sip.
Long, black hair and blue-green eyes that look like beach glass…
she has curves that won’t quit. She’s wearing a short red dress that fits her perfectly, and I wish I’d seen her before we were talking so I could’ve taken her in more first. It’s overwhelming, getting the whole picture all at once, plus she smells like sweet, motherfucking heaven.
I think I gulp before saying, “Yep. You?”
“Yes, tis,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.
I thought I picked up a British accent in her first question, but it’s confirmed by her second response. Which just makes her even hotter, if that’s possible.
“What brings you to Vegas?” she asks.
“My sister got married,” I say, pointing to Goldie.
Her eyes light up. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she says. “Did she wear that to the wedding?”
“Oh no. There was a whole other gown involved for that.” I motion with my hands, trying to show that it was a whole floor-length situation, and the woman laughs.
“You’re cute,” she says.
I laugh. “Not the best at describing women’s fashion, I guess.”
“No, but when you’re as hot as you are, it doesn’t matter,” she purrs.
Fuck.
And I just got hard.
Damn, it’s been a long time.
This is why I don’t go anywhere. I work, go home to my son, I spend time with my family, and I try to provide consistency. The End. Take me to a bar, and I’m hard in five seconds.
No, I’d get hard if I saw her in any setting.
And that’s enough talk about getting hard, I tell myself.
“What’s your name?” I ask. “What brings you to Vegas?”
“My name’s Imogen,” she says her last name, but it’s too loud in here, “and I’m in Vegas for work.” She talks louder. “Took forever to get through customs, but everything else has been seamless. I’m guessing you’re here for the wedding?” she says, her full lips tilting up.
Her teeth are white and perfect, and her skin is—God, shut my brain up.
“Yes, my sister got married earlier tonight and wanted to spend the rest of our time in Vegas having fun.”
“She sounds like a smart cookie.” She bumps my arm. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
“Oh, I’m Noah. Noah Whitman. Those are all my siblings.” I point at everyone.
Her eyes widen when she sees the size of our group. “Those are all your siblings?” she repeats slowly.
“Oh, no. I mean…there are five of us altogether. I have three brothers and a sister. But everyone’s paired off now…I’m the only one—”
“Oh dear. You’re not wearing a ring, but…is a Mrs. Whitman going to pop out at any moment?” She lifts one dark brow, and yep, I’m harder.
I shake my head quickly, not trusting myself to speak.
Her grin widens, and she puts her hand on my arm.
“Perfect. Dance with me,” she says.
“Oh, I don’t know—”
Dylan subtly hands me my shot, and I down it without Imogen even noticing. He gives me another, and I take it gratefully. I need it if I’m going to be in any way social. Camden pops up beside him.
“Nice,” Camden says, waggling his eyebrows.
“You get it, brother,” Tully calls from across the bar.
I roll my eyes, which just makes my brothers laugh.
“Come on. I’ve got enough moves for both of us,” Imogen says over her shoulder.
She’s not lying. Turns out Imogen can dance like a goddess, too. All I have to do is sort of loosely sway, and she does the rest, and looks damn good doing it.
“Loosen up,” she says on the next song, putting her hands on my hips and guiding my movements. “That’s better.” She grins.
Before I know it, I’m acting like I’ve got moves like Jagger.
I know, I know, it’s a dated reference, but the extent of my pop culture knowledge consists of the latest animated movies, and before Grayson was born, Margo was into reality TV, which meant I spent that time on my laptop with headphones, working on house plans.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask when we’ve danced for a long time and are out of breath.
“I’d love one,” she says.
My phone buzzes, and it’s the thread with my brothers and sister, asking if I’m okay. There’s one from earlier saying where they’re heading next, and since that was a while ago, I decide to stay put. It can’t get any better than this right here. I quickly text back, confirming I’m okay.
Imogen and I stand at the bar, and my tongue gets looser the more I drink.
She loves to travel, so I tell her about the resort and the houses I’ve built for my siblings.
She tells me about her favorite resorts in Europe.
She’s easy to talk to, which is rare for me.
I know it can be attributed to the alcohol flowing, but it’s also her.
She’s funny and smart, and way out of my league, and someone I could never see myself being with outside of Vegas.
But since that’s where we are, I let myself enjoy every second.
Real life will hit hard come the day after tomorrow.
“God, you’re really, really cute,” she says at one point, mid-story.
I take a step closer and she puts her hand on my waist. I put my hand on hers.
“You’re more than cute,” I tell her. “You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her eyelids lower, and she presses her lips together. “You’re more than cute, too, but I wouldn’t want to give you a big head if I told you how gorgeous I think you are.”
“Too late.” I grin. I glance down at her mouth, feeling emboldened now that she’s said she thinks I’m gorgeous. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” I tell her.
“Then why haven’t you?”
“You’d be okay with that?” I ask, somewhat incredulously.
“Please do it already,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move all night, but you’re such a gentleman.” She smirks, and I’m a goner.
I put my hand on her face and lean in, and when our lips touch, I feel lightheaded. Her fingers wind through my hair, and when she parts her mouth for me, I groan. She tastes like the lemon from her lemon drop martini, and I’ve always loved lemon.
We’re breathless when we finally pull away, and I keep my forehead against hers.
“That was—” I start.
“Brilliant,” she finishes.
We kiss again, and I lose track of time. All I know is that I could kiss this woman forever and still not get enough.
***
When the alarm goes off the next morning, I groan. The room is still dark, and I turn on the bedside lamp, scrubbing a hand down my face. Something hard scrapes across my scruff, and I frown, looking down to see what it is.
On my left ring finger is a silver band.
I stare at it, blinking. What? I close my eyes and open them again, and it’s still there.
I break out into a sweat and stand up, arms flailing to see if anyone’s in my bed.
Images of Imogen flash through my mind—God, she was so beautiful—fuck me, she was in this bed.
I rush to the bathroom, slowing when I get near the open door.
“Hello?” I say quietly.
Nothing.
I peek in the bathroom, and it’s empty.
I walk back into the bedroom, and I see a note on the large table. I feel like I might be sick as I pick up the paper.
Dear Noah,
Don’t worry, I’ll contact you soon to take care of this.
It was fun while it lasted, though.
xx,
Imogen
I stare at the ring again, dread building inside.
I can hardly believe it, but…I got married last night.
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