Текст книги "The Girl Of Diamonds and Rust"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I rush from the airport with my bag, go to the first taxi at the pick-up line, and climb in.

“The Omni Hotel, please,” I say.

I rummage through my purse for my mobile phone. I punch in Neil’s number and wait. Ring. Ring. Ring. Crap, voice mail.

“Why are you not answering?” I say with an aggravated growl. “Call me back. I’m in Indianapolis. I don’t know what room we’re in. If you want me, you had better tell me where, soon. Or I might go back to Santa Barbara. And for a guy who claimed to be really happy that I was coming back early, you are…”

Beep. Damn, cut off by voice mail.

I settle back against the seat and stare out the window at passing scenery. Jeez, who would have thought I’d be so excited about being in the Midwest? It’s kind of an interesting city. Really flat compared to California. Tall buildings even here in Indiana. Big freeways. Lots of people. Urban America looks the same everywhere. Urban yucky.

My phone rings and I smile. I flip it open and put it against my ear.

“You are in such freaking trouble,” I say into the receiver. “You better have a good excuse for not calling me back earlier. That’s all I have to say.”

Silence. Shit, maybe Neil thinks I’m serious about being pissed.

“Don’t hang up the phone, Chrissie.”

The earth falls away beneath me and everything inside me goes numb. Alan. I say the first thought I can string together. “How did you get this number?”

“It wasn’t difficult. Vincent gave it to me.”

Fuck. Why did you do that, Delmo?

My head spins. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

I can hear him breathing through the receiver. Shit, why did that have to sound so little-girl pathetic? Fuck, Chrissie. Pull yourself together.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either, love. But don’t hang up. It doesn’t matter what happened between us. I will always care about you, Chrissie. I didn’t want to make this call, any more than you wanted me to, but we need to talk some things out, love. Please, don’t hang up.”

We need to talk some things out?

Every muscle in my body shakes from panic. Oh God, it can’t be about that. How could Alan possibly know about April? Only three people on this earth know. Me. Neil. And Jack.

My trembling fingers tighten around the phone. “I have nothing to say to you. There is nothing you could say at this point I would want to hear.”

“Please. Five minutes, Chrissie, and I’ll never bother you again. You have my word.”

My face scrunches up as I battle to fight back my tears. Never bother you again. I feel my heart still because for a foolish half-second I thought Alan called to beg me to take him back and to tell me he still loves me.

“I sent you a letter. Did you read it?” he asks, his voice strangely intense, serious.

“No.” I gather every scrap of my shredded composure and make myself do what I should have done when I first heard his voice. “I didn’t read it. I don’t want to talk to you. There is nothing between us worth talking about. Don’t contact me again. Just leave me alone, Alan.”

I click off the phone and toss it away from me. Why did Alan have to call today? Since boarding the plane in Santa Barbara, everything has felt really good inside me, like I finally know where I am going in my life, and now nothing feels certain. Neil. The past. The present. Nothing.

Shit, why did he call me? Crap, why do I care? I stare at the phone. Don’t call him back, Chrissie. Whatever it is Alan wants, you are not interested.

I breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t think about Alan. Keep him in the lockbox where he belongs. Think about why you are in Indy. Why you wanted to return early. What you’ve been thinking about since you left Neil five days ago in Memphis.

Think of Neil. Nothing else. Think of Neil. What was it Jack said? I think about where I am. Not the past. Not the future. Well, Chrissie, you’re in Indianapolis. Think about why you are here.

A measure of calm has returned by the time the taxi pulls into the circular driveway in front of the hotel and a sharply dressed valet rushes forward to open my door. I take cash from the pocket in my purse to pay, and before I climb out of the car, my bag is sitting on the curb with an attendant in wait.

“Are you checking in, Miss?” he asks.

“No, I already have a room.” I hold up my index finger. “One second. I just need to call and find out where.”

I dial my phone again and wait. I stare into the lobby. The hotel is packed with people from the tour like it always is everywhere we stayed, but I don’t see anyone I am friendly with. Definitely none of the guys from the band are loitering in the lobby.

I cover my ear not pressed against the receiver with my hand to block out the noise. Ring. Ring. Ring. Fucking voice mail again.

I snap it shut and enter the hotel, cutting my way through the people toward the front desk. Crap, there is a line at check-in. I don’t want to wait in line just to get a room number.

I drop my arms on the marble countertop, smile and stare at a clerk. After trying to ignore me several minutes, he comes over to the spot across the counter from me.

“How may I help you?” he asks in that snotty way clerks do in the better hotels.

“I don’t know what room I’m in.”

Jeez, that sounded lame.

“Name?”

“Stanton.”

“Do you have ID, Miss?”

“Yes, I have ID.” I drop my purse on the counter. I pull out my wallet. “Oh crap. My license says Parker. But the Stanton room is my room. Get it?”

Now the way he’s looking at me is just plain insulting.

“Hold on.”

He grabs the phone and dials.

“Mr. Stanton, there is a Miss Parker at the desk…” His voice trails off and he nods for a while. Then, “OK. I’ll send her up.”

I exhale slowly, but internally I’m really annoyed because if Neil is in the room why didn’t he answer his fucking mobile?

I’m emotionally messy by the time I climb into the elevator, and I don’t want to be. I wanted this to be a perfect first day back with Neil. I definitely hoped Indy would be a special kind of day, sort of like a new beginning for us. Me being less frustrating and indecisive. The both of us more clear on where we’re going together. I’m not ready to say yes, I’ll marry you, but I’m seriously considering it and I want Neil to know that. I think it will make him happy.

Well, that’s what I’d hoped when I boarded a plane seven hours ago in Santa Barbara, but the Alan phone call has knocked me out of whack. Then the Neil phone calls—or rather non-phone calls—have started to make me feel anxious, though I don’t know why and I know they probably shouldn’t.

We exit the elevator, and the floor with the bank of rooms for the guys is noisier than usual. Crap, Delmo must be on the same floor with us again. There are people everywhere, girls everywhere, things I don’t want to see everywhere, doors open, small parties within this giant party. Give them an extra day on the hop and this is what guys do with it.

I glance into a room as I pass, and I really wish I hadn’t. I know that Les Wilson is a freaking man-whore, but I don’t like to see it because I know I’m going to be hanging out with his girlfriend again someday. Jeez, how will I ever be able to look Veronica in the eyes again after this tour?

The music, the activity, the loudness is intense, and I take more interest in the open doors I pass. Stupid, Chrissie, stupid. Neil isn’t a partier. He’s a loner like you. Stop checking out the action all around you and trying to catch him doing God knows what.

The bellhop drops my bag outside a door and hands me a key.

“Here you are, Miss Parker.”

What the heck? All that, the phone call from the desk, the escort to the upper floor, just to give me a key and then walk away. My bag. You could carry my bag inside.

I stare at the door. Now I’m pissed. I was already edgy before I exited the elevator into this madness, but something about this has my nerve-tips prickling. What’s up with the ignored phone calls and Neil having me escorted up here?

Really, Neil, escorted?

I struggle to get the key in the lock, turn the knob, shove open the door, then hold it with my leg and drag my bags in. I let the door slam behind me. I look up.

Oh my. My eyes widen. My gaze slowly moves around the room and everything inside me turns to hot, roiling liquid.

My eyes lock with Neil’s.

“Welcome back,” he whispers.

I suck in a breath. The room is bathed in soft candlelight. The candles are everywhere, on every table and on every surface, dozens of them. And Neil is lying in the center of the bed, reclined on a hip, facing me and gloriously naked, every inch of him fully exposed, in an inviting posture waiting for me. His cheek rests in his palm and his messy waves frame his face, and the look in his eyes takes my breath away.

I start to take in other details of the room. The champagne on the night table next to a neatly arranged plate of Oreo cookies and strawberries. I laugh. What kind of guy remembers your weird food preference? Crap, there is even a cake and an elegantly wrapped present beside it.

I don’t know what to say. This I did not expect.

“You took an early flight,” Neil remarks into my silence. “We only got into Indy an hour ago. It didn’t leave me a lot of time to work with.”

Understanding comes to me in rich waves, making me acutely aware of why I love him. “You ignored my calls on purpose. You slowed me down getting to the room on purpose, so you could do all this.”

“Happy birthday, Chrissie.”

Moisture blurs my vision. “It is now, Neil.”

~~~

I lie naked in the wrap of Neil’s arms, quiet and sexually spent. The sex only ended because I think we’re both exhausted, but we’ve been kissing and touching ever since. Five days apart. Too long. If there had been a shred of doubt he missed me or that he’d cheated on me while I was gone, it would have died the first time we made love.

I feel drained, or I would be working toward sex again in this quiet after our passion. We have had nothing but mind-blowing sex for hours. Neil has been on fire tonight. I was on fire tonight. I didn’t expect that when I stepped into the room.

Everything changes. It changes quickly. This time it has changed in a good way.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” I whisper and then touch my lips to his forearm.

“You came back early. I wanted it to be special for you.”

I turn in his arms and stare at him with what I’m sure is lust-sparkling eyes. “Oh, definitely special. This night goes into the record books.”

Neil laughs.

I look at him. “If we were to get married, how would it work?”

He eases up to stare directly into my face and the passion haze leaves his gaze. “I don’t know, Chrissie. How does marriage work for anyone?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

He settles back against the pillow, draping me across his chest and holding me in the circle of his arms. He starts stroking my back in a gentle, soothing way.

“Why don’t you tell me what you mean, Chrissie? Things work better when I don’t try to figure out what you are asking.”

God, I feel stupid. “Very funny. Ha. Ha.”

His eyes grow serious. “I’m not messing with you. I want to know what you’re thinking and it does work better when I don’t try to figure it out and just let you tell me.”

I take a moment to organize my thoughts and worries.

“I don’t want to stay with you on the road,” I whisper. “I’ll travel until we have kids, but after that I’m done. I want lots of kids, Neil. That is the only thing I’ve ever been certain of. I want kids.”

He starts plucking hairs from my face and brushing them back. “Then you won’t travel with me if we have kids and I won’t ask you to.”

I bite my lower lip. “I want to have a family. That is the most important thing to me. More than anything else, that’s what I want.”

He takes my face in his palms. “So do I, Chrissie. I want it with you.”

We are both quiet, pensive for a while. I’m sprawled on his chest, Neil gently caressing my back.

“Are you saying yes?” Neil asks.

I lift my chin to look at him. “I’m not saying maybe anymore, Neil. I’m saying someday instead.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

April 1994

I slouched down on my lounger, curling on my side and hugging the cushion for dear life. I haven’t enough strength to manage even a slightly presentable posture.

Fuck it, who cares here?

Nicole laughs. “You’re too young to be so tired.”

I frown. “It’s four in the morning. It’s perfectly normal to be tired.”

“Not here, love.”

I stare out across the pool on the rooftop patio. It’s packed with people laughing, drinking, and celebrating. Last show on the road done, a packed house at the LA Forum. Everyone tore it up on stage. God, Neil was incredible, even though when we arrived in California yesterday he looked like a limp dog on his last leg.

We slept fifteen hours straight, but when he woke, Neil was supercharged, amped and ready to go crazy on stage. Last hop. They all are letting loose tonight. The party started the second we returned to the hotel after the concert.

I stare. “I don’t know how they all keep going. I wanted bed two hours ago.”

“Testosterone.” Nicole’s eyes fix on Neil, surrounded by people and still going strong. Her expression changes and is mildly wistful. “If I had that kid I’d want my bed, too.”

I blush and Nicole laughs.

Her gaze shifts to Delmo and she makes a face. “Regrettably, I have that. I’m staying on the roof until they boot me out of here.”

I laugh faintly. “You’re impossible. You and Delmo deserve each other.”

“That we do.”

My eyelids start to drift. Nicole’s laughter causes me to open them again.

She smiles. “We survived ten months on the road with Vinny and all we got is this lousy party and cheap booze on the roof of the West Hollywood Hilton. Damn man loves this place. Loves the nostalgia. Personally, I think it’s so he can slip away at night, party and partake of the scenery.”

I roll my eyes “He does not. Vincent wouldn’t do that to you. You can’t mess with me any longer. The man adores you. You adore him. Bicker. Bicker. Absolutely nonsense.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Sad, but true.” Her gaze shifts to me. “So where do you and the kid go now?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.” And I don’t, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. The tour is over, and I’m starting a new road with Neil. I don’t know what it is, but we’re doing it together and that’s enough.

Nicole studies my face and her relentlessly bitchy expression softens. “I can tell you one thing, Delmo is glad he’s not following the kid on stage anymore. The kid just keeps growing and growing each show. He’s on his way.” She grimaces. “Unfortunately, wherever you go it’s going to look like this.”

I laugh. “I hope not.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile.

I push the wayward hairs from my face and my gaze locks on Delmo cross the party to us.

He sinks down behind me on the chaise without asking, his legs on either side of me, and surrounds me in a sloppy hug complete with overly wet smacking kiss on my cheek.

He rocks us side to side. “Nancy Drew, I’m going to miss you.”

I try to wiggle out of his hold and then stop. “Don’t tell anyone I said this. They’re all too drunk to remember if they hear me, and if you repeat it, I’ll call you a liar, but I’m going to miss you, too.”

Vincent laughs. “You break my heart, love, but I love you anyway.”

He settles back against the cushion, taking me with him.

“Ah, will you look at this. We’re too fucking old for this, Nicky.”

“Speak for yourself, old man,” she taunts.

I laugh.

Vincent’s face appears over my shoulder. “You’re not going to have to miss me long, Chrissie. You’ll get to see me again Saturday, and I have another shot at convincing you to run away with me. But if you reject me again, it will be back to missing me because we’re off to Europe next.”

My eyes widen, surprised. “You’re going to Jack’s party?”

“Of course. Take a phone call from Jack anywhere you are. If Jack sends you an invite to the annual foundation fundraiser, you put on your best clothes and grab your checkbook. That’s how it is with your dad, love. We’re going to Santa Barbara.”

I smile, then droop and close my eyes again.

“Hey, asshole, that’s my girlfriend.” I hear Neil’s voice booming from across the party. I open my eyes to find him staring but smiling. “Let her go.”

Out of my peripheral vision I see Vincent bobbing a thumb toward Nicole. “Take my girlfriend, mate, and we can call it even.”

As exhausted as I am, I laugh and manage to avoid Nicole’s clumsy swat at Vincent’s chest. Jeez, I shouldn’t be attempting laughter and I start drifting into sleep.

“Let’s go, Chrissie.”

When I open my eyes, Neil is standing beside the chaise, staring down at me.

I nod and then frown. “I don’t think I can walk. I’m exhausted.”

Neil scoops me out of Delmo’s clutches and soon I’m held against his chest, legs and arms wrapped around him, my cheek resting on his shoulder.

He carries me into the hallway toward the elevator.

“We don’t have to be in Santa Barbara for two days,” he says, struggling to hit the call button with his elbow. “Nate wants to go La Jolla. Hang out. Surf for a day. What do you think of that?”

My head moves limply on his shoulder. “I don’t care.”

He steps into the elevator and maneuvers again to hit the number for our floor. He starts trailing light kisses across my face.

He laughs. “You’re a mess, Chrissie. Are you drunk? You’re not even being a pain tonight.”

I adjust to look at him. “Nope. Not drunk. Don’t want to be a pain. I sort of like you tonight.”

His kiss moves lightly and stirringly against my lips. “Do you love me tonight?” He starts kissing my neck. “Why don’t you do all those incredible things to me you do when you’re feeling loving.”

I roll my eyes. “Not a chance. If you wanted that you shouldn’t have held me hostage at that party for four hours. You missed it. That feeling is gone. Be happy I still like you.”

He makes a slight, upside down smile. “No?”

I lay my cheek back against him. “No.”

“That was definitely decisive. I don’t know if I like decisive Chrissie yet.”

I laugh weakly. I can tell by his voice he’s frowning and only half-joking.

We make the short walk from the elevator to the room. Somehow Neil manages to continue to hold me and get the door open.

He sets me on the bed, and moves around the room, undressing. My half-closed eyes stay glued on him. Naked, he returns to the bed, eases me over on my back and starts undressing me.

“I don’t want sex,” I whisper. “I want sleep.”

He settles on the bed close to me, kissing me everywhere, touching me everywhere, and the tingling starts and my muscles pulse there. He moves his body until he is hovering above me, arms on each side of me, his kisses roaming from my breast to my belly and then lower. I feel warm breath and then his lips there and the feel of him shoots through me.

My head starts to sway on the bed and my body without command pushes in to the play of his tongue and fingers. He nips on my thigh and lifts his head.

“Do you want me to let you sleep?” he whispers.

I stare down at him. “You better not.”

His mouth closes over me. I arch my back and melt into the expert flow of his tongue and fingers and breaths. I come apart quickly against his face, and I’m still pulsing and panting when he enters me. He moves in me, deep and hard and fast. He doesn’t hold back, he pounds until he comes, and he collapses against me.

“You are never too tired for sex if I kiss you there first. It works the same way with me, Chrissie. Maybe you should try it again someday.”

“Someday,” I promise softly.

He’s laughing as I fall asleep.

~~~

I swat at tickling on my cheek and open my eyes to a room filled with painful light.

Neil’s face closes in on me. He kisses my hair.

“I’m having breakfast with Ernie. I should be back in a couple hours.”

I try to focus my eyes on the clock. “Jeez, it’s only ten a.m. What kind of manager gets you out of bed this early the day after a concert?”

“A manager catching a plane to the east coast in three hours.” He kisses me on the lips this time. “I ordered you an omelet and some coffee. Eat. Dress. Pack. I want to take off as soon as I get back. I don’t want go to La Jolla with Nate. Think about where you want to go. I’m horny as hell. Take me away someplace where we can be alone and in bed for two days.”

“We could just stay here. Not move for three days. How does that sound?”

He makes a maybe kind of face. Then his expression changes, sweetly serious. “I want to do something you want to do. Figure out what you want and I’m all yours.”

Hmmm, possibilities. I snuggle deeper into the blankets. The door closes. I try to go back to sleep and I can’t.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Figure out what I want. My mind is a blank. More travel doesn’t sound appealing. We could just drive to Santa Barbara early. That would be nice. Yep, I’d like that.

Reluctantly, I toss aside the blankets and get up. I take a fast shower, pull on a sundress, and am just putting on the finishing touches of my makeup when there is a knock on the door.

Breakfast. I hurry to unbolt and let in room service.

“Omelet and coffee?” the guy asks, reading off the ticket.

“Yep. Put it over there on the table by the window, please.”

He sets down my tray, lifts off the metal cover, and places the LA Times beside my plate. I smile as I sign the ticket and show him from the room.

I drop down into the chair, grab a fork and pick at my meal as I open the paper. Thank you, Neil, for remembering the newspaper. I’ve almost got Michelle’s scrapbook complete. The guys were incredible last night. There has got to be photos somewhere in the Times today. I start flipping through pages. Flip. Flip. Flip. Ah, Delmo. I study the photo for a while—what a ham. Why does he like to look so mean?—and then I scan the rest of the page.

Ah, us. Even better. The caption makes me smile. I go to my black case and pull out the small canvas zip bag with my scissors and paste. I neatly cut the photo from the paper, trim it, and then secure it on the last page. Done. Ten months on tour. History complete.

I finish my breakfast, and start packing up. Clothes. Check. Toiletries from bathroom. Check. Neil can deal with his junk here. I see the scrapbook on the table and put it back in the duffel. I grab my scissors and paste, and as I start to tuck them away, I note the edge of a news clipping saved from last week.

I still haven’t written about this in my journal. I couldn’t do it. Not when it happened. I take my notebook from the black bag and reach for a pen.

I pull out the news clipping from the canvas bag and stare at it. I still get misty-eyed when I read the story headline Kurt Cobain Dead Twenty-Seven. I print today’s date on the top of a page and start to write:

It is strange how someone’s life can touch your own from a distance. I didn’t know Kurt well. We crossed paths in Seattle, nothing more, but he was the subject of the silly bet Neil and I made the first night we met. It sure rattled the guys, in that way the sudden unexpected loss of someone like yourself can only stir.

I’ll never forget how Neil looked when he got back to the hotel after learning of Kurt’s death. Sad, confused, angry and overwhelmed.

We sat for a long time silent, and then Neil said, “I love you, Chrissie. More than you know. Sometimes you are all that gets me through. Don’t let me fuck up everything we have.”

There was something in his voice I’ll never forget. I don’t know what it was, but I’ve never heard Neil sound that way before.

I was alone when I opened the paper to find the write-up on Kurt’s death. Too many lockboxes inside me broke open at once. My brother. My mother. Then Alan.

I looked at the headline—twenty-seven—and my memories dragged me back to New York and Alan in the parking garage, and Alan’s voice whispered through my memory: “The great ones die at twenty-seven. Hendrix. Joplin. If we are both around after we’re twenty-seven, we’ll both know what we are.”

I reached for my mobile phone and Alan’s number on the card that I still carry for some reason. I stared at the phone for an hour. Something in me wanted to talk to Alan that day.

The news made me think of him. Our crazy spring. Us in the parking garage. And I felt ashamed about the way I spoke to him the last time we talked. The mean little girl in me, kicking him away because I was afraid. I regretted not talking to him. I regretted how I felt that day. I still wonder why he called, what he wanted.

I stared at the phone, wanting to call. We are connected. No matter how we ended, there are parts of me only Alan will understand. And there are parts of Alan only I will understand. But I didn’t call. Too much had happened. He hurt me. I hurt him. We both hurt each other too much the last time. It was better for us both that I didn’t call. It would have only unsealed old wounds.

But a part of me still regrets not calling Alan that day.

I hear a key against the lock, slap shut my journal and tuck it away in the bottom of my duffel. Nope, this journal is now a private journal. I don’t want Neil to see that last entry. It wouldn’t piss him off, he would want to talk to me and understand it, but I’m not ready to do that. Not yet. Someday.

Neil crosses the room, kisses me lightly on the cheek, and then sinks down to sit on the bed. His expression and posture says everything. He is not happy after his meeting with Ernie Levine.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Neil runs a hand through his hair. “We were going to take some time together, figure out what we’re doing, and Ernie booked me for a show taping next week in New York. A bunch of other bullshit publicity things for the next month that I don’t want to do. And when I’m done, studio.”

I make a pout. “No big deal. We’ve got a week to kick back and do nothing. I’m not angry. Why are you?”

He gives me the stare. “You agreed to discuss the possibility of getting married.”

I laugh. The way he says that makes me sound ridiculous. I make a face. “What? A week is not enough time to finish a discussion on the possibility?”

I give him a silly smile and reluctantly he laughs.

“No. With you, Chrissie, there is no such thing as enough time to discuss anything.”

My brows hitch up. “That was kind of mean.”

Smiling green eyes lock with mine. “Nope. Not mean. Accurate.” He sighs heavily. “Fuck, Chrissie, I want something in my life defined and certain. I want us to get married.”

“OK. Not mean. Frustrated.” I cross the room and sink down beside him on the bed. “So what do you want to do about being frustrated?”

He starts working his hand under my dress and I shove it away.

“I didn’t mean that kind of frustrated.”

He laughs, wraps me in his arms and pulls me with him until we’re lying on the bed. I don’t know why we’re laughing. But it feels good. Really, really good.

“Do you know where you want to take me?” he whispers. “We’ve still got a week. We’ll go where you want to. Let’s get the hell out of here. I don’t want to waste any of our alone time.”

I turn on my side facing him and fight back a smile. Jeez, he’s so sexy even when he’s aggravated and disappointed and fighting to be patient with me when he doesn’t want to be. I lean in and kiss him, and when I pull back, the color darkens in his eyes in that way that’s wonderful. Emotion and want join in lock-step in a jolt of clarity that rockets through me in an inescapable way.

“I know where I want us to go,” I say.

Neil shakes his head in that way that says he’s not buying it. “Staying here in West Hollywood doesn’t count as you making a decision, Chrissie. It’s a lack of decision.”

I choke on a laugh. Damn, the guy does know me pretty well. Wrong this time. Logical assumption.

“I’ve never been to Vegas before. I want to go to Vegas,” I announce.

He’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Really. I hate Vegas. And you hate the desert. Why the hell would you want to go there?”

I stare at him. “Because in Vegas we can get married today.”

~~~

We step out of the over-air-conditioned county clerk’s office into the overheated Vegas sun. Crap, it’s scorching today and it is only April.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Neil asks for about the hundredth time. “It’s only a three-day wait in California. We can get married in Santa Barbara. Have Jack and my family there.”

I peek up at Neil. He looks a little bemused that I’m actually insisting we elope.

“Nope. This is a limited-time offer. Today or never.”

Neil smiles and then his expression takes on a more serious edge. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

The way he’s looking at me makes my heart overflow. God, how can he think that? I dragged him here.

“Do you remember our A-through-C marriage agreement?”

He taps the side of his head with an index finger. “Burned into my memory forever. A: You want to live in Santa Barbara. You want a house there and only there. B: If we have kids you won’t travel with me and I promise to never ask you to. C: You don’t want to wait to start a family.”

I kiss his arm. “No second thoughts. You remembered the agreement.”

He frowns. “Let’s get married in Santa Barbara.”

“No. Today. That’s what I want.”

He shakes his head and stares down the street. “Supposedly we can get married anywhere. Pick a place. They all look the same. Awful.”

He’s right, they do.

I point. “Let’s just go there.”

I pick the Heart of Vegas Wedding Chapel, because it’s the nearest one and they all do look the same.

Neil pulls back the door and I enter first. I quickly inspect the room. Awful just converted to hideous. Pink. I’ve never seen so much pink anywhere before.

I look at Neil’s reaction to this and it takes every ounce of control not laugh.

A middle-aged woman, short and bouncy and over-tanned, comes from the back and pauses at the counter. “Can I help you?”

“We’d like to get married,” I say.

She smiles in that duh hidden behind fake politeness sort of way since that’s pretty much all they do here, but she still asks what we want.

We’re given more papers to fill out.

I watch as Neil labors over the forms.

“Why does everything take so much paperwork?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. He’s concentrating. I stare into the glass case I’m leaning against. Shit, they think of everything here. Rings. They even sell rings here. Your one-stop marital shop. I note a sign on the wall. Crap, you can even get a divorce, too.