Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
"I think so. Kind of."
"Tell me more," I murmur.
"I think it was just all bleeding together. Wrong word," he says, looking somber. "I kept thinking of the hospital. I still dream about that. And I think about the church, how that could go wrong. And I think about you getting hurt. And think maybe you’d wish that you had never done this and just want to go back home."
"You’re my home, McD."
He gets that focus line between his brows again—the little wrinkle line. "I think the concept of forever bothers me now as much as it did when I was a kid thinking of heaven. I just can't grasp it."
"Me either,” I tell him, “except when it comes to you. You and me, we're never-ending, Sky babe. When I'm with you, I feel right. Complete. I can’t imagine that would ever stop."
"That's how I feel, too."
He sleeps on my shoulder, with one arm around my torso, like he's trying to be sure I don't get up and run off.
I fuck around on my phone and think of texting Pearl—but I don’t, because I figure Sky should tell her. A few minutes later, she texts me.
‘Ahhhhh- V, he told me!’
‘Did he?’ I text her a smile emoji.
‘How’re you feeling?’
‘Perfect,’ I type. ‘Ready for some funnel cake.’
‘Do they have funnel cake in Vegas?’
My jaw drops. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.”
‘No! I’ve never seen it there.’
‘Have you ever spent time there,’ I ask her, smirking with one eyebrow arched up.
‘I have! But no funnel cake. What a shame. Eat a lot of it for us. Arman and I can’t wait to see pics! Make sure someone snaps you kissing the hubs!’
‘Haha. Will do, Pearl.’
‘Love u two!’
‘U two too’
I slide the phone into my pocket, thinking about Pearl and Arman, and how effortlessly they accepted me into their friend fold. How Pearl is always saying she loves Sky and me. Is it weird that it sort of weirds me out? It’s not like I don’t want her to say it. I do, I think. I just also feel like asking, “Are you sure?”
Gotta think a therapist would have a field day with that stuff.
I close my eyes and focus on the feel of Sky’s big body against mine. I think of younger Vance back up in Chelsea, eating donuts, feeling fucking hopeless, and I close my eyes and say my own sort of little prayer. We’re going to be okay. I can feel it—all this shit is going to come together. For a while, I’m half asleep, my whole awareness zeroed in on being in this chair with Sky’s strong, heavy arms around me.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I open my eyes again. But I look out the window, and I think the twinkling lights below have gotta be Sin City. Damn—so bright and pretty. Like a blanket of light. I hold Luke closer, and I think about the name of this place—Sin City. About his job. About the millions of people who know him, and who know me, too, now. Then I close my eyes, lean my head against the seat’s headrest, and let myself feel peace.
When we dip down to the runway and the plane’s wheels start to bounce, Luke sits up and blinks at me. A slow smile curves his mouth, and it blooms into a grin.
“Did I sleep the whole time?” He laughs.
“You did.” I ruffle his hair, and he smooths his palm over mine.
"Nice to see you again," he says, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
"Nice to see you, too, McD.” The plane is stopped in no time, and my heart is in my throat. “Let's do this."
I don’t know when he put a call in, but Sky has a driver waiting. The car has a divider wall, so we can have some privacy as we roll toward our happily ever after. When Luke looks nervous, I break out some knock-knock jokes, and after a little while looking out the window at the always-festive Strip, we’re pretty much sitting on top of each other.
“What’ve you got here?” Sky’s hand covers my cock. He rubs at my erection as we crawl along in heavy traffic. Right about the time I think I might come in a rented car, I see two intertwined neon hearts, resting on a blinking sign that says MARRIAGE in flashing hot pink lights.
“Oh, shit, look! Tell him to stop.”
I have to tuck my dick away before we step out onto the crowded curb, weaving between a man on stilts and a big group of college-aged women as we head toward the chapel. It’s small and white, with only a short line. There’s a rainbow flag taped to the front of the podium just outside, which means we’re feeling at ease as Luke pays the modest fee. He grins like a kid as we’re waved inside.