Chapter 20
The chapel was a riot of kitsch, a neon fever-dream of hearts and cherubs and twinkling fairy lights. Or maybe that was just the tequila. Lewis and I stumbled through the doors, clinging to each other and giggling like lovesick teenagers, and it seemed like the most romantic place in the world.
“Oooh, look at the little cupids!” I cooed, pointing at the chubby cherubs adorning the walls. “Aren’t they just the cutest? I want to pinch their little cheeks!”
“I think they’re judging us.” Lewis squinted, his brow furrowing in concentration. “They know we’re insane.”
“Shh, don’t say that!” I swatted at his arm, dissolving into another fit of giggles. “This isn’t insane. It’s… it’s fate. Kismet. Meant to be!”
The words tumbled out, slightly slurred, but I meant them with every fibre of my being. I had never been more certain of anything in my life.
Lewis and I were supposed to be together. This wedding, impulsive and wild as it might be, was just the universe’s way of making it official. I mean, what were the odds? Us, picking a club right next door to a 24-hour wedding chapel? If that wasn’t a sign from the big man upstairs, I didn’t know what was.
Right now, our friends were still partying next door, none the wiser that we were about to commit ourselves to each other. The thought of their shocked faces when we walked into sound check tomorrow with rings on our fingers filled me with absolute delight.
Maybe we should have a wedding reveal party?
“Welcome to Serendipity Chapel!” a cheerful voice said before I could figure out what that thought meant. A woman in a pink sequinned dress approached us, her smile wide and knowing. “I’m guessing you two lovebirds are here to tie the knot?”
“Yes!” I threw my arms around Lewis’s neck and nearly toppled us both over. “We want to get married. Right now. Tonight. The full Vegas experience. Elvis, glitter… give us the whole shebang!”
The chapel lady chuckled, clearly used to dealing with drunk, impetuous couples. “Of course. Let’s get started on the paperwork, shall we? While you fill out the licence, you can browse our selection of rings and choose your ceremony package.”
She led us to a small table where she laid out the necessary forms. I stared at the lines and boxes, the legalese blurring before my eyes. This was really happening. In a matter of minutes, Lewis and I would be husband and wife.
“I love you,” I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. “I know it’s fast and it’s crazy but I do, Lewis. I love you so much. Like, so much. So, so much. More than… more than tequila. And you know how much I love tequila.”
His smile could have lit up the entire Strip. “I love you too, Liv. More than all the tequila in Mexico.” He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that tasted like whiskey, promises, and a hint of lime.
We filled out the forms in a haze of laughter and sloppy kisses, our handwriting a drunken scrawl. Then we moved on to the fun part—picking out our rings. After much deliberation and a lot of giggling, we settled on a matching set of thin silver bands. They glinted under the fluorescent lights, a tangible symbol of our commitment. Our beautiful, alcohol-fuelled commitment.
“Alright, lovebirds,” the chapel lady called out, waving us towards an altar that looked like Cupid had thrown up all over it, a riot of plastic flowers and twinkling lights. “It’s showtime!”
An Elvis impersonator stood waiting for us, his rhinestone-studded jumpsuit catching the light. He greeted us with a crooked grin and a wink, launching into a rendition of ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ as we wobbled towards him.
“Dearly beloved,” Elvis began, his voice a perfect imitation of that iconic drawl. “We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
I blinked up at Lewis, my vision blurring with happy tears. He stared back at me, his expression a mirror of the love and joy I felt.
“And now, I believe y’all have written your own vows?” Elvis prompted, a smirk playing at his lips.
We had—scribbled on the backs of cocktail napkins from the club, the words smudged and barely legible.
Lewis went first, clearing his throat dramatically. “Liv Monroe, from the moment I first saw you on that stage, I knew you were special. Your voice, your spirit, your beauty… you captured my heart in an instant. And now, I know I never want to let you go.”
His voice cracked with emotion and I squeezed his hands in reassurance, swaying slightly on my feet.
“I vow to love you,” he continued, “to cherish you, to support you in everything you do. I vow to be your partner, your friend, your family. I vow to rock out with you, to dance with you, to make beautiful music with you, in every sense of the word.”
The Elvis impersonator fanned himself dramatically, pretending to wipe away a tear. “Those are some mighty fine vows, son. And now, the bride?”
I took a deep, shaky breath. My head was swimming and my tongue felt clumsy, but I pushed through. “I had a crush on you when I was sixteen years old. It was silly.” A nervous giggle bubbled up my throat. “I used to dream about meeting you, about telling you how much your music meant to me. But I never imagined… I never dared to hope that we’d end up here. That you’d see me, really see me, and that you’d love me the way I love you. That you’d want to claim me in the most important way you could.”
I swallowed hard, my voice thick with tears.
“I, Olivia Monroe, take you, Lewis Davies, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to support through all the highs and lows whether backstage or on stage, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. Or until the tequila wears off.”
A ripple of laughter went through our small audience—the Elvis and the random chapel employee serving as our witness. But I barely heard them. All I could see was Lewis, his eyes shining with love and laughter and unbridled joy.
“By the power vested in me by the King of Rock and Roll and the great state of Nevada,” Elvis declared grandly, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride!”
Lewis didn’t need to be told twice. He swept me into his arms, dipping me low as his lips claimed mine. I clung to him, pouring every ounce of love and joy and pure, incandescent happiness into that kiss.
It was messy and off-centre and absolutely perfect. Just like us. Just like this wild, wonderful, once in a lifetime night.
We were married. Actually, legally married. The man of my teenage dreams was now my husband and this, this wild, wonderful, unexpected journey we were on together… it was only the beginning.
When we finally came up for air, both of us flushed and breathless and giddy, Elvis was holding out a pen and a piece of paper. “Alright, kids. Just need your John Hancocks here and here and you’ll be official.”
We signed with a flourish, our names a messy tangle on the paper.
Mr and Mrs Lewis and Olivia Davies.
It had a nice ring to it. It looked right. It felt right. Like it was always meant to be.
We stumbled out of the chapel, hand in hand, giddy newlyweds ready to take on the world. The Vegas night enveloped us, all flashing neon and pulsing music and shimmering, drunken magic.
And that’s when it hit me. The buses. The tour.
I gasped, the thought hitting me like a bucket of ice water. “Oh shit, what time is it?”
Lewis fumbled for his phone, his brow furrowing as he tried to focus on the screen. “Fuck, I can’t… it’s all blurry. Too many numbers.”
“Gimme that.” I snatched the phone, squinting at the display. “2:55… the buses leave at 3!”
“Fuck, we have to go. Now.”
We took off running, a mad dash across the crowded Strip. Lewis grabbed my hand, pulling me along as we wove through the throngs of tourists and partiers. The world tilted and spun around us, a dizzying whirl of lights and pounding feet on pavement.
With seconds to spare, we practically fell into the bus, breathless and dishevelled and grinning like a couple of love-drunk fools.
Which, of course, is exactly what we were.
The driver just shook his head, clearly used to this kind of last-minute insanity. But Anderson… oh, if looks could kill, we’d have been sent to the morgue instead of the honeymoon suite.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice deceptively calm. “Look what the cat dragged in. You two have a nice little adventure, did you? A little Vegas sightseeing, maybe some souvenir shopping?”
Lewis, still high on the rush of it all, just grinned sheepishly. “Something like that.”
Anderson stepped closer, his hulking frame looming over us. “I’m your bodyguard, not your bloody babysitter. It’s my job to keep you safe, but I can’t very well do that if I don’t know where the fuck you are, now can I?”
I cringed, guilt twisting in my gut. He was right. We’d been so caught up in our own little bubble, we hadn’t stopped to think about the people we’d worried, the risks we’d taken.
“I know we shouldn’t have run off.” Lewis collapsed onto the sofa, his eyes starting to droop. I wasn’t faring much better, on account of needing to hold myself up with the bus dashboard. “It was stupid and irresponsible, and I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed, his scarred face twisting into a scowl. “Stupid and irresponsible doesn’t even begin to cover it. You can’t keep pulling this disappearing act shit.”
“It won’t happen again,” Lewis said, his voice slurred and his head lulling back. “From now on, I’ll stick to the schedule and keep you in the loop. Scout’s honour.”
“Scout’s honour.” Anderson snorted, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t know a schedule if it bit you in the ass.”
Despite the severity of his words, there was a hint of affection in his tone.
“Won’t happen again, Savage. Promise.” Lewis lifted his head and threw a sloppy salute, his grin turning cheeky. “Permission to retire to our bunks and sleep off this tequila haze, sir?”
Anderson rolled his eyes, but I swore I saw the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Permission granted. But if you even think about sneaking off again, I will personally handcuff you to your bunk. And not in the fun way, mind.”
“Kinky,” Lewis quipped, winking at me. “But I think I prefer my current bunk mate, thanks all the same. No offence, big guy. You’re just not my type.”
With that, he tugged me towards the back of the bus, the world tilting and spinning with each stumbling step, leaving a grumbling Anderson in our wake.