Chapter Thirty Five
Carly
The Vegas lights look so small from up here.
We’re at the top of a skyscraper, seated in a big-ass black leather booth at a restaurant Rafe apparently owns. A spotless wall of glass in front of us displays the city below from a safe distance. We’re spectators up here, in the city but not quite part of the madness. Stories below there are men and women betting mortgages on games of chance, lonely singles drinking away the sadness, disenchanted actresses wearing feathered headdresses as they dance across stage, mothers taking their clothes off in front of the lusty gazes of men whose names they’ll never know.
Humanity is below us, but we’re up here where the lights are small and the people are hidden. We each have our own secrets, our own struggles, our own demons, but in this booth, we’re somehow safe.
Because we made it to Sin City.
I wasn’t sure we would survive Chicago. When he was preparing me, Mateo told me Mia had serious siren powers, but I figured he was biased. Obviously she tickled his fancy; he married her. Apparently he was right, though. All she had to do was look at Vince and six months of hard-won ground swayed beneath my feet.
But we made it.
We’ve left that godforsaken house. We’re in Las Vegas so Vince can tie up the last of this chapter of his life, then we can go back to Connecticut and continue building our life together.
I just hate building it on a foundation of lies.
Mateo told me in no uncertain terms, if I tell Vince the truth, it’s our double funeral. He swears Vince will not forgive me, will never trust me again. He swears that even if he really wants to, Vince will not be able to let it go.
I didn’t want to believe him. I vehemently wanted for him to be wrong, for all the work I’ve put into helping Vince grow to hold up, for him to be stronger—to be my Superman.
The thing is, I believe Mateo now.
It doesn’t change my feelings for Vince. However flawed he may be, he’ll always be my Superman. He’s saved me in ways he doesn’t knows—ways he can never know.
I hate building a life on secrets and lies, but I also hate losing everything over something that doesn’t matter.
Does it really matter that Mateo sent me to occupy Vince? People meet lots of different ways. The feelings that followed were real. Mateo had his fingers in the beginning so of course there were layers of manipulation that helped me snag Vince’s attention, but I never pretended to feel anything I didn’t. When I wanted him, I really wanted him. When I told him I love him, I meant it. When I assured him he was safe with me, that I wouldn’t give up on him, that I wanted to start a new, better life with him… I meant all of it.
And so did he.
So does it have to matter?
I’ve decided it doesn’t. I know it’s not entirely up to me and he should get a say, but if this past week has proven anything to me, it’s that without a firm, loving hand to keep him on track, Vince can’t keep his head on straight. He craves the pain and dysfunction he was brought up on; he’s like an addict on the reluctant road to recovery, going to sleep with the shakes and dreaming all night about the very drugs that fucked him up.
Vince needs a keeper. Mateo was right about that. He’s lucky because I’m the one Mateo assigned to him, and I really did fall in love with him. The wrong woman given the same directions to sneak into his heart may have hurt him once she got there. May have kicked it around a little more, added new breaks. Maybe she would’ve taken advantage of him, stayed for the money.
Maybe he would have never been loved again after Mia, because he damn sure was not open to it.
He needed a Lois. Mateo didn’t give a fuck what he needed, but we all got lucky.
I’m just not sure Vince could see it that way if he knew the truth, so I can’t tell him.
It’s better this way.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
Laurel’s voice is playful as she sips her yellow drink and slides a flirty look Rafe’s way.
His arm rests along the back of the booth where Laurel is seated. He smiles faintly as he takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t have to get you drunk. You’ll do what I want sober.”
I roll my eyes, casting him a scornful look. “That’s the only reason, huh? If she wouldn’t, then you’d get her drunk.”
He shrugs the shoulder that isn’t wrapped around Laurel. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Besides Mia,” I offer.
Now he smirks. “By the time I was done with her, Mia had no complaints.”
“For fuck’s sake, do we have to—?” Vince trails off, vaguely glaring at Rafe, then slams back his own drink instead of sipping it.
It’s been a hard day for my baby. He needs a shoulder rub and a blow job.
“Are we going back to your house soon?” I ask Rafe.
“I want to see the strip,” Laurel enthuses, looking over at him.
Of course her request holds more weight than mine, given she’s the one who will be handling his dick tonight. “We can take a stroll through the strip if you want to.”
I snake an arm around Vince’s back and give him a sideways hug. At least he wraps his arm around me and pulls me snugly against him. When I nuzzle into his neck and tell him, “I love you,” he murmurs it back before grabbing me by the back of the neck and pulling me in for a brutal kiss.
Oh, good, I’m going to get some anger sex tonight. I run my hand down his chest and let it settle between his legs. He adjusts slightly and keeps kissing me as I subtly rub his dick until it’s good and hard for me. Now that I know we’re not going straight back to Rafe’s house, I’m gonna tease the fuck out of him. I want Vince unable to think about anything but getting inside my pussy by the time we roll up in the driveway.
“You know what I’m most excited about?” I ask him, still rubbing his cock.
“What?” he murmurs.
I drag a trail of kisses up his neck. “Waking up next to you every morning. No more checking behind doors for Mateo’s minions, just me and you, burrowing under the blankets and snuggling.”
Eyes half closed, he says, “That does sound nice.”
“Mm hmm. Then I’m going to slide under the covers, wrap my lips around this magnificent dick, and suck it so your day’s off to a good start.” I brush my lips across his, then bite his bottom lip.
“A very good start.”
I massage his balls, then rub him some more. “Only the best for my baby.”
That brings a smile to those handsome, sulky lips, so I steal another kiss then slide back into my own spot. He slants me a look of disgruntlement as he shifts in his seat. I smother my smile, taking a sip of my own drink.
Laurel is thoroughly distracted by her dessert and paying no attention to us whatsoever, but when I glance her way, I see Rafe smirking in such a way that I have no doubt he was listening.
“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, you know,” I tell him.
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to be accused of impoliteness.” Leaning in, he adds, “Side note: do you charge hourly, or does he get a subscription price?”
My amusement—and the color—drains out of my face. “I’m a whore because I’m teasing my boyfriend?”
Rafe shakes his head. “Of course not. You’re a whore because you get paid to fuck someone. Aren’t those the traditional parameters for prostitution? I’m not judging, just curious.”
I stare at him for a moment, then look back at Vince. He’s still dealing with blue balls, so he hasn’t noticed Rafe and I chatting privately. Still, I lean in closer. “Who…?”
Rafe rolls his eyes. “Who do you think?”
I growl low in my throat. “Goddammit, Lex.”
“Lex?”
I shake my head. “Nickname. Forget about it. Why would he tell you?”
Shrugging, Rafe says, “We share things sometimes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Oh, I bet you do.”
Now he smiles. “You’re pretty judgmental for a hooker and a spy.”
“I am not a hooker and I am not a spy.”
Rafe leans back, raising his eyebrows like I’m a little too much. “Someone get this girl a dictionary.”
Laurel scoots back into Rafe’s side, frowning up at him. “Don’t try to canoodle with my sister. I don’t care what you do for a living; I’ll cut you.”
Rafe kisses the top of her head, the same way he did Mia’s. I narrow my eyes at him. I feel like he did it on purpose, but I’m probably being paranoid. Or, I assume that until he winks at me over her head. Fucker.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of fucked up, bullshit games you and your cousin play with each other—”
Rafe cuts me off. “Calm down, Vivian. Your secret’s safe with me.”
I scowl, not initially understanding his reference. Then somehow my brain makes the connection—the hooker Julia Roberts played in Pretty Woman was named Vivian.
I’m not sure he’s a man I trust with my secrets, but it doesn’t seem like I have a choice. I sink back against Vince’s side, but he notices the change in my mood. His protective urges come out to play and he leans in, murmuring, “What did he say to you?”
I hug the arm draped across my chest. “Nothing important.”
---
After perusing the strip and watching my sister do her best to make Rafe adorable, we head back toward his house. Vince tells me his dad’s house is right next door and he has the keys now, so we’re going to go over there and check the place out.
I swing our hands as we traipse across the back yard toward his house, but Vince looks distant.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “You’ve been patient enough. I’m going to try to never say her name again as a thank you present.”
That’s certainly more effort than his typical fuck-up gift—and ice cream sandwich. If he gave me an ice cream sandwich for every time he was frustrating this past week, I’d go up a full pants size. It’s not going to do either one of us any good to make Mia a sore subject, though. He’ll think about her from time to time whether he tells me or not. The only way to foster the closeness I want to remain between us is by keeping the lines of communication open and free of ghosts. I can make Mia a big, scary, threatening thing, or I can fight with the strongest tool I have—love.
Being kind and understanding will yield me far better long-term results—a lesson Mia herself could teach in college courses, if only she could figure out her own toolkit. She makes all the monsters feel safe with her, but I’m not confident she knows how she does it.
I guess it doesn’t matter.
I know how I do it.
I give his hand a squeeze, offering up a smile. “Nah, don’t do that. It’s not healthy. I want you to share your feelings with me—all of them, not just the ones you think I’ll like. Besides, it makes sense that you would think about her here.”
“Not just her. Dom.” He flicks a glance up at the huge Mediterranean style house. “This is where I made him.”
I grimace at the way he words it—how he made him, not how they made him.
“Is it weird that I already kind of miss his slobbery little smile?” he asks.
A sad smile tugs at my mouth and I lean against his arm. “No, that’s not weird at all.”
“Is it weird that I want to put a baby in you so we have one of our own?”
“No, that’s not weird either.” I peer up at him, my mouth downturned. “It wouldn’t work, though. That wouldn’t fill the hole Dom left. I do want us to have a baby someday, but I don’t want that to be the reason. I think it’s normal—healthy, even—for you to mourn this loss. Dom is obviously fine, but we aren’t going to get to see him, and that does suck.”
“Sucks a lot.”
I nod my agreement. “A replacement baby won’t make it suck less, though. The only way is the healthy way. Process your feelings and move on as best you can.”
“No shortcut, huh?”
I shake my head. “Shortcuts never work as well as taking the long, hard road. But look at us—sometimes the long, hard road can lead you somewhere good.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder, half-hugging me as we walk. “Somewhere really good.”
I smile up at him. “Really, really, really good.”
“I’ll feel really, really, really good when we’re back home,” he informs me.
“Me, too. I’m glad we survived Mateo, but I hope we never see him again.”
Vince smirks down at me. “I would say there’s a strong likelihood we won’t.” He misses a beat as we step onto even ground. “Mia said she’ll send me pictures of Dom. Well, send them to Maria who will send them to Cherie—there’s a whole underground railroad of SMS messages, but eventually they’ll get to me.”
I grin. “Look at Mia, being sneaky.”
“I’m glad you liked her,” he says, honestly. “I’m glad things between all of us ended on a good note. Not Mateo, fuck him, but us and Mia.”
I nod my head. “Me too.”
Now we’re walking along the pool that seems to be the centerpiece this U shaped Mediterranean-style villa is built around. He points to a spot in the pool. “Right there is where we played Marco Polo with my dad’s girlfriend and Mia got jealous.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Of your dad’s girlfriend?”
“She was Mia’s age. She used to hit on me all the time.” He swings his hand to indicate an enclosed grotto. “Right there is where your buddy Rafe cornered Mia in the grotto. No idea what actually happened in there, but judging by the way she fled, it couldn’t have been good.”
That draws a heavy sigh out of me. “I really wish Laurel wouldn’t sleep with that asshole.”
“Yeah, me too. At least she leaves tomorrow. Then she’ll never see him again and we won’t have to worry about it.”
“Tomorrow can’t come soon enough,” I state.
He nods, looking up at the house. “I kinda just want to burn it down.”
I move beside him, reaching for his hand. “Yeah, but that would be arson. Also, setting a fire in the desert, while momentarily cathartic, also seems really irresponsible.”
Vince smirks, turning his head to look at me. “You ruin all my fun.”
“Only the really bad ideas,” I amend. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Let’s get married.”
My heart drops and I jerk my gaze to his. “What? That’s your alternative to burning down your father’s house? Getting married?”
“No, but we’re in Vegas.” He says this like all people come to Vegas to get married. “We want to have a baby and a house—stands to reason we’ll also want to get married. And who’s gonna come to our wedding? Cherie and Laurel? We don’t have family, just them. Laurel’s already here. She could go with us tomorrow and be our witness.”
Now my heart rises back to its rightful cavity and beats a little harder than it should. “You really want to get married?”
He squeezes my hand, then brings it up so he can kiss my knuckles. “Hell yeah, I do.”
---
It’s about the last way I expected to end this week, but Vince and I spend a little time exploring the house where he kept his captive ex-girlfriend, then we traipse back over to Rafe’s, in hopes he and Laurel haven’t made it to the bedroom yet.
Luckily, they’re still on the couch. She’s straddling him, taking off his tie, but she stops and looks over at us when we come running in.
“We’re getting married tomorrow,” Vince announces.
Laurel gasps, with pleasure.
Rafe’s jaw drops, not with pleasure.
“What?” Laurel squeals, climbing off Rafe’s lap and running over to me. Her gaze goes to my hand, wrongfully—but logically—assuming this was maybe something we actually gave a little thought to, and maybe I would have a ring. I stifle a mad laugh, but I guess if I’m going to share my life with Vince, I have to embrace spontaneity sometimes.
“We don’t have a ring. We didn’t plan this. But we’re gonna do it.”
Rafe eases up off the couch. “Hang on a minute. You guys just decided in the past half hour to get married?” He looks at Vince like he’s lost his fucking mind. “Do you recall all the money you just came into? You need to talk to a lawyer and have a pre-nuptial agreement drawn up if you’re going to get married.”
“Stop killing our buzz,” I tell him, shooting him a dirty look.
“Yeah,” Vince agrees, frowning at Rafe like he’s a real asshole.
Rafe can’t quite contain his amusement as he looks between us. I can basically see him thinking I’m an opportunist, cashing in on her good luck. “Hey, I’m not saying don’t get married. I would say that, if I thought there was even an outside chance you’d listen, but I know you won’t. I’m just advising my newly minted millionaire cousin not to get married three minutes after coming into his sizable inheritance.”
Now Laurel scowls at Rafe. “My sister is not after money.”
Rafe stares at her for a moment, then looks at me, then Vince. Finally, he raises his hands and shakes his head. “You know what? This isn’t my problem. Do what makes you happy, kid.”
“We’re going to,” Vince states, unmoved.
Rafe nods like he shouldn’t have even tried and drops back onto his couch. “Well, congratulations, I guess.”
“I want a white dress, though,” I tell Laurel. “Will you go shopping with me tomorrow while Vince handles all the stupid house stuff?”
“Of course I will,” Laurel says, grinning. “I’m so excited!”
Rafe shakes his head, leaning back on the couch. It appears to physically pain him to keep his mouth shut, but he manages.
“Rafe can be your best man,” Laurel suggests, thrilled with her own suggestion.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vince says.
“Yes,” I agree, nodding. “That way we both have a family member at our wedding.”
“I don’t need a best man. If I did, it would damn sure not be him. Maybe we’ll run across a panhandler on our way to the chapel and I can ask him instead.”
Laurel gives Vince her best unimpressed face.
“I mean, on a practical level, it would probably be easier if Rafe helped out,” I tell Vince, my tone low. “We don’t know where to buy anything or where to get a marriage license. Or, you know, where to get married. He probably knows all that stuff.”
Vince sighs. “Seriously? The point of a Vegas wedding is that none of my asshole cousins have to be there.”
I hold up a single finger, busting out the puppy dog eyes. “Maybe just one asshole cousin wouldn’t be the end of the world?”
He looks at me, then Laurel, then back to me. Finally he gives in and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Rafe can come. But I don’t like it.”
“Now, hang on,” Rafe replies. “No one even asked if I want to take part in this train wreck. My answer right now is a soft no.”
“A soft no?” Laurel asks, quirking an eyebrow. “So your mind could be changed?”
He smiles at her. “Hey, if you’re up to the task.”
She saunters back over to the couch and climbs on top of him. “I think I can probably change that soft no to a hard yes.”
“You do excel at making things hard,” he murmurs. Then he catches her around the back of her neck and tugs her in for a kiss.
Vince looks over at me, already anticipating my disapproving grimace. “Why don’t we leave them to… that, and go to our room,” he suggests.
I nod, tearing my gaze from the horrible man kissing my wonderful sister and turn away with a sigh. “I hate all your cousins so much.”
Vince smirks, draping his arm around my shoulder and hauling me toward the stairs. “Look at that, our first official family tradition.”
---
My wedding day begins with Rafe’s “let me make a couple calls” at breakfast. He has a maid, but he still makes Laurel pour his coffee. I don’t understand why she does, but she seems to get a kick out of it, so I don’t object.
Also, I was starting to worry we would get married by an Elvis impersonator and Rafe has assured he won’t let that happen. He gives Laurel his credit card and tells her to go buy us dresses—his wedding present.
We’re limited to off-the-rack choices, but that’s probably what I would’ve done anyway. As much as I want the fairytale, the fairytale isn’t in some big party—it’s in the relationship. It’s in loving the man who pays enough attention to your nerdy stories to bring you an ice cream sandwich when he fucks up (and in my case, maybe buys me a gym membership, since he fucks up more than his fair share). There may be some secrets tucked away in our closet, but we’ve built this relationship on more truths than lies. There’s mostly openness between us. Our only secrets revolve around Vince’s family, and after today, we close the door on them and build a healthy life completely removed from their toxicity.
I may not be the ideal bride and Vince may be a little less stable than the ideal man, but we’re best friends who always want to tear each other’s clothes off. That’s good enough for me.
The dress gods must also bless this union because I’m able to find a stunning dress that fits me well enough that it doesn’t require alterations. It’s mostly backless and fitted like a mini-dress, but then there’s an explosion of tulle at the bottom. It makes me feel like a sexy princess.
Vince wears a tux and looks like a dream. I begged him to wear a Superman T-shirt underneath, but I don’t know if he listened to me.
Our Vegas elopement could have turned out like a bargain bin event, tucked at the back of a sketchy flea market, but thanks to Rafe, it actually does resemble a fairytale. He made his calls and helped Vince throw together the arrangements in just a few hours, but as we stand in front of the golden light of the Bellagio fountains with the Eiffel Tower glowing in the background, everything is perfect. Rafe stands behind Vince, Laurel stands behind me, and an officiant leads the simple ceremony—and he is not wearing a bad wig or a rhinestone suit.
We even have a photographer, so we’ll have wedding pictures to hang up on the walls of our new home.
After the vows are spoken and we’re announced husband and wife, Vince pulls me in for a kiss. I’m feeling a little weepy. It’s pretty lame, but I can’t seem to help it. Then he unbuttons a few buttons and pulls open his dress shirt just enough to reveal the Superman symbol on the T-shirt beneath. I burst into laughter.
The photographer catches it, so I’m pretty sure that’s the one that’s going on our wall.