Epilogue
I woke up staring at Elvis.
Or rather, the bust of Elvis in the corner of the condo where Sloan and I had first met. We were back in Vegas since it had been three hundred and sixty-five days since we first woke up hitched in this city.
Today, we were both naked again. But this time, we’d made it back to the condo, and there was no panic. No worry about an annulment or a divorce or how everyone would react to the news.
””Morning, gorgeous,” Sloan said softly in my ear, his arms wrapped around me. ”Happy anniversary.”
I turned in his arms, so we were nose to nose, skin to skin, chest to chest. ”Happy anniversary, handsome.”
”You feelin” like getting married again?” he asked as he brushed butterfly kisses against my cheek on his trek downward, past the column of my throat, along my collarbone.
”Well”—I snuggled in closer to the warmth that was my husband to give him better access—”Not to brag or anything, but it is kind of my thing when I come to town.”
He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. ”As long as I get to be the groom.”
”Always,” I said, and the truth of the word came out with a lifetime”s worth of emotion.
I couldn”t say much after that because his mouth was on my breast, and his hand was between my legs, and there were other things that took precedence over coherent speech.
The thing was, we”d made an entire year of memories we never wanted to forget, but there was one part both of us couldn”t quite shake.
Neither of us remembered how it started. We decided that wouldn”t work for us, so we set up a vow renewal for our anniversary. Together, and sober, we”d recreate some memories we could actually remember this time.
We were going to re-do that whole night, knowing what we”d pieced together and bringing along as many friends as possible. Even Jared and his wife were meeting up with us. Mom and Dad, my sisters, Emily, Elliott, Uncle Milo, Aunt Lisa, Angela, Finn, and most of the Stallions football team had even come to town for the big event. Heck, the Dimefront guys, Sami Jo, and Hans were all on hand.
No one wanted to miss this backward charade of ours.
But that morning, it was only Sloan and me, the two of us cocooned in our own world.
We took full advantage of our time together—twice, actually.
After we came up for air, we headed out to spend the day with our friends. And when the afternoon became evening, our entourage of football players, family, and one of the biggest bands of our generation headed out on the town. We caused more than a minor commotion as we walked down The Strip to the Neon Nuptials wedding chapel. Let”s just say the guy who played Tarzan had nothing on the chaos we caused simply by being present.
With a small amount of research, we discovered we”d been married at the Neon Nuptials with their Lucky in Love and Liberace package. So, that was what we booked this time.
The chapel itself was unassuming. Given the name, I figured that there would be more neon involved. But the chapel seemed to rely on the surrounding neon to live up to its name.
The interior was well-maintained, with a bright-red carpet that seemed to bleed a crimson path to happiness and white wooden pews with an undeniable charm, probably because of all they”d witnessed over the years. Over the top of the room was a painted ceiling that looked like stars.
Our crew squeezed into the limited space, everyone huddling together. The paparazzi might be outside, clamoring for a glimpse of our private celebration, but within the walls, only those closest to us mattered.
Those closest to us—and an actor playing Liberace.
The fake Liberace guy was the spitting image of the musician, with his sequined suit sparkling under the lights in the chapel. His perfectly styled hair and signature candelabra ring were like a time warp to another era.
”This is the singing couple!” Fake Liberace announced as we approached the altar at the front of the room. ”I remember you like yesterday.”
”Maya has the pipes, that”s for sure.” Sloan pulled me against his side and pressed a kiss to my hair.
”What did I sing?” I asked, hoping he might remember the song so I could give an impromptu performance to my husband.
But Fake Liberace”s eyebrows creased together. ”No, it was you”—he pointed to Sloan— ”who wouldn”t stop singing for the whole ceremony. Oh, we laughed and laughed.”
Now, Sloan”s eyebrows dropped. ”There”s no way?—”
”What did he sing?” I asked, before Sloan could finish his sentence. ”I have to know what his song was.”
Liberace gestured widely as he said, ”He kept singing about me feeling it, and you feeling it, and putting on lipstick.”
I turned to the rockers in the audience. ”Anyone know?”
Everyone shook their heads in unison.
”Do you remember the tune?” I asked, losing some hope since it wasn”t something easy to recall, like Viva Las Vegas or Love Me Tender.
Fake Liberace started humming. and?—
”Lady Gaga”s Manicure song,” Bax said with a chin jerk to Sloan. ”Nice choice.”
”I don”t know that song,” Sloan said. ”I swear I don”t know that song.”
Bax sang the melody, the other Dimefront guys getting in on it for a few bars.
”Drunk Sloan clearly knows more music than sober Sloan,” I said, blinking innocently.
Sloan stared at the audience, then at me when they paused singing.
”I”ve never heard that before in my life,” he assured.
”That isn”t true,” Liberace said, pointing his finger toward Bax. ”We both know the truth.” Fake Liberace winked at Sloan, his mischievous eyes twinkling. ”Shall we proceed with the ceremony?”
Sloan nodded, a grin playing on his lips. ”Please and thank you.”
I smiled up at him, a surge of love and excitement settling in my heart as I got to experience a wedding ceremony I”d actually get to remember this time.
We did the ”Do yous?” and the ”I dos” and there was an impromptu performance by our officiant before he got to the ”Kiss her” part.
The whole time, Sloan and I grinned like we”d both had two of those yardstick margaritas.
”And now, by the power vested in me… well, not really, but let”s pretend,” Fake Liberace said with a laugh. ”I now pronounce you husband and wife… again.”
”Mine,” Sloan said.
”That”s exactly what you said last time, too!” Fake Liberace clapped, but I had stopped paying attention to him when Sloan pulled me in for a sweet kiss, sealing our union… again. This time, we did it in front of our closest friends in a night no one would forget.
We marched down the aisle with Liberace on our heels. Sloan paused to give Elliott a smack on the back.
Liberace paused and glanced at Angela—tossing her an odd look with his eyebrows furrowed. Then he glanced at Elliott. Again, same look.
Then he snapped his fingers, smiled, and nodded like he knew something he wasn”t supposed to share.
I made a mental note to ask Angela about that later. Then I mentally underlined it three times.
We headed to the after-party at the ARIA, where I’d reserved a four-tier cake and a pasta bar with all six kinds of sauces. I’d even booked a jazz band, like I’d always wanted for my wedding.
But Sloan paused in front of the MM Store.
So much—so, so, so much—had happened since we saw the guy who played Tarzan here a year ago.
”Check out that fire margarita stand.” T.J. pointed behind Sloan and me, wrecking the gentle moment of silence playing out between us.
I sucked in a breath.
It couldn”t be the same stand.
No, that wasn”t possible since the place had certainly been shut down at some point in the past year.
I turned to peek and, sure enough, the same stand with the same homemade signs and the same bartender still slinging the same yardstick drinks was right there.
T.J. started toward the stand like he would make a purchase we all knew he”d regret, but Sloan caught his arm.
”Nah, man, you don”t want what he”s selling.” Sloan and I both shook our heads.
”Yeah, I do.” T.J. tried to pull his arm away, but Sloan held tighter. ”There”s a souvenir cup.”
”Let the man have his booze,” Finn said, clearly not understanding the importance of avoiding that vendor.
”I want one,” T.J. whined.
”I promise you do not.” Sloan shook his head.
T.J. pouted, but he made no more attempts to get to the margaritas.
Sloan wrapped his arm around my waist, and I returned the gesture.
Let the tabloids talk about our trip to Vegas tomorrow. No doubt, some would love it, and some would hate it, and I didn”t care who said what because I had Sloan.
Sloan, who kissed me… right in front of the MM Store there on the Vegas Strip.
People stared, and there were cameras, but I didn”t care because I had him.
He was mine.