Page 20

20

Elias

T aylor puts her hand on her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bug…I mean bite,” she says quickly with a laugh.

“Not funny.”

“Not even a little?”

“No,” I grumble, as we walk down the strip, Mom, Dad and Grandma strolling behind us. Taylor slows and glances at one of the shops. She gives me a sheepish grin. “Unless of course, it’s ice cream.”

“You want ice cream?”

“Who doesn’t want ice cream?” Grandma pipes in from behind. I stop and put my arm around her. “There’s always a separate compartment for dessert.”

“We had dessert,” I point out.

“But it’s Vegas and warm,” Taylor explains. “I can’t eat ice cream in the snow back home.”

“When in Vegas,” I tease, pulling the door open and waving everyone in. “We eat ice cream.”

Grandma wags her finger at me. “When in Vegas, one gets married by Elvis,” she quips with a wink. “My offer still stands.”

“No one is getting married, Grandma.”

“I wouldn’t rule it out just yet. Did you see that cute guy beside me at dinner?”

I laugh. “Roman? You’re talking about Roman Marinelli?”

“Or Rip.” She nudges Taylor. “All lumberjack hotness,” she jokes. “Straight out of a romance novel. A girl could climb that like a tree.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “I might need a double scoop to cool myself down.”

“Oh my God,” I groan, and glance at Mom and Dad, who are grinning and shaking their heads, like this is just another Tuesday with Grandma.

Laughing, Taylor takes Grandma’s hand and they step into the shop. We take our place in line and I check out the list of flavors. “They have boozy ice cream,” I say with a laugh.

“I’m having a double tipsy scoop,” Grandma announces.

“Same,” Mom and Dad agree in unison.

“I feel like I need the tipsy to survive walking this strip with Grandma,” I whisper into Taylor’s ear.

She laughs. “What are you having, dear?” Grandma asks Taylor.

Taylor looks through the glass. “There are so many choices. How can I possibly decide?”

“Can I suggest chocolate fudge cookie dough?”

“That actually sounds amazing.”

Her eyes shine as she smiles at Taylor and it’s easy to see how much she adores my girlfriend, and that thought twists me up inside. “I thought it would,” she says.

Taylor narrows her eyes. “Why’s that?”

Grandma gives her an all-knowing look as she takes Taylor’s hand and pats it. “Cookie dough is a very popular craving. Back in my day, I couldn’t get enough of it.”

Taylor tilts her head. “Actually, now that you mention it. I think I have been craving it. That’s kind of weird. Grandma, are you psychic?” she asks and it reminds me of the fortune teller Gina had at her Halloween party. She totally freaked Roman out saying something about some girl running on him. It felt like a warning and Roman didn’t like it much, even though he said he didn’t believe in fortune tellers.

“When you get to be my age, you know some things,” Grandma explains.

“Now I’m craving it,” I announce.

“Of course you are.”

Having no idea what she means by that, I pull out my wallet and after we all order, I pay, and we head back outside. We stroll along the busy strip, eating our ice cream as we weave in and out of the throngs of party goers.

“Oh, I’d love to go look in that shop,” Mom says, looping her arm through Dad’s.

He groans. “You mean the one with the throw pillows that cost more than a car payment?”

Mom whacks him playfully. “Oh, stop.” She turns her focus to me. “Why don’t you two go and enjoy yourselves.” It’s obvious that she’s trying to give Taylor and me some alone time, but honestly, I don’t see them much and with them not trying to set me up, it’s been fun hanging out with them.

“Come on, Mom,” Dad says.

Grandma waves them off. “You two go ahead.” She grins at me. “I’m going to explore with my favorite grandson and his lovely girlfriend. Someone has to keep these two out of trouble.”

Mom frowns, like she’s debating whether leaving me alone with Grandma is a terrible decision. But really, she’s harmless. Right?

“Go ahead. Grandma can stay with me. I’ll try to keep her out of trouble.”

Mom and Dad head off and we walk, with Grandma sandwiched in between us. Suddenly, she jabs a finger toward a stately brick building a block away. “I want to go in there.”

“What’s in there?” I ask, unable to read the sign from this distance.

“Come on, you’ll see.” And just like that, she’s off speed-walking like a woman on a mission.

Taylor and I exchange a confused look. “No clue,” Taylor says, reading the question in my eyes. “But we’d better catch her before we lose her.”

“Or before she gets herself in trouble.” I grab Taylor’s hand. “Who knew Grandma could walk so fast.”

“When she puts her mind to something, I don’t think anything can stop her.” We catch up to Grandma and I read the sign over the building. Marriage License Bureau.

“Grandma, you are not getting married in Vegas,” I tell her with a laugh. “I think that boozy ice cream is messing with you.”

“I could if I wanted to.” She gives me a cheeky grin and opens the door. “But it’s not for me. It’s for you two. Someone has to be prepared in case you decide to sneak off and have an Elvis impersonator wedding.”

“Grandma—”

“Come on, humor an old lady, why don’t you.” She steps inside and we follow her in. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

I try again. “Grandma, we are not?—”

Taylor rests her hand on my back, stopping me mid-protest. I glance at her, expecting her to be upset, but instead I see gentle understanding. What the heck?

Grandma, meanwhile, has already placed herself in the line, and yes, she’s getting odd looks.

“What’s the harm?” Taylor asks with a shrug. “It’s not like we’re going to get stupid drunk and actually go through with it. If a piece of paper makes her happy, let’s just do it. We’ll throw it away when we get home.”

I sigh, the fight going out of me. “Okay, Grandma, you win.”

Grandma beams because she always wins. But this, even for her, it’s a little out there and I’m a little crazy for going through with it.

“Next,” the clerk calls and just like that, we’re at the counter. Grandma sticks to us like glue, no doubt worried we might be up here faking the process of getting a license. Damned if she doesn’t know how much faking is really going on.

“Identification,” the woman says in a no-nonsense manner, and more people file into the building.

Taylor and I both fish out our driver’s licenses, while Grandma turns to the next couple in line, a couple who are eager to get a license. Grandma gushes over the woman’s engagement ring. I take a deep breath. We don’t have one. That means we can’t actually get married, right?

I hand over my credit card.

The clerk stamps the paper.

After I pay, the clerk hands us an envelope with our shiny new marriage license, which Taylor promptly tucks into her purse—to dispose of later. She was right. Totally harmless. No big deal.

“I’ll Venmo you half the fee,” she tells me.

“Nah, none of this is on you. You’re just sweet to consider Grandma’s feelings.”

With the deed done, I’m ready to gather up Grandma and get the hell out of this place.

I turn and Grandma is right there. “Lovely,” Grandma says and pats my hand. “Now you’re all prepared.”

“Right.”

I guide Grandma back outside and catch her yawning.

I gesture with a nod toward our towering resort. “I think we should head back. Call it a night.”

Taylor nods. “It’s been a long day.”

We head back and make our way into the lobby, which is noticeably quieter now. Most people are off gambling their life savings away or watching a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat. I’m not interested in either. I guide Grandma toward the elevator, when Taylor suddenly stops, her eyes locking on a large sign.

Easton & Jenny’s wedding—December 31 st . Location—Diamond Ballroom.

Taylor’s eyes go wide with excitement and mischief. “Let’s go peek.”

I shake my head, hesitant. “I don’t know if we should do that.”

“Oh, come on,” she takes my hand. “We’ll just take a quick look at the room. No one will know.”

I turn to see Grandma sauntering off. “Grandma, where are you going?”

She looks back. “To take a look at the room. Are you coming or not?”

“That woman is going to be the death of me,” I grumble, and Taylor grins.

We follow Grandma and she walks into the room like she owns the place. I’m about to step in behind her when my foot collides with something. I stumble, barely managing to keep my balance, and I glance down to see what nearly took me out.

A toy ring.

Seriously?

This is turning out to be a hell of a crazy night. I guess it can only go up from here.

I drop to one knee, picking up the plastic ring I nearly crushed as Taylor leans in to see what I’ve found and that’s when we hear it.

A loud, dramatic gasp.

We both freeze. Slowly as if in a horror movie, because yes, we do realize how this looks, we turn our heads toward Grandma. She stands there, her hand clutching her chest as her eyes sparkle with sheer excitement.

“Grandma,” I blurt out quickly, my brain scrambling as my gaze goes from Grandma to the ring, to Taylor and back to Grandma. Oh God, I was wrong, this night has gone from crazy to unbelievable…or hilarious, if this really was one of Taylor’s beloved Adam Sandler’s romantic comedies. But it’s not. This is real life and Grandma just thinks I got down on one knee. I try again. “This isn’t…wasn’t…you weren’t supposed to?—”

Grandma cuts me off with a nod, her expression one of absolute delight. “You’re right. I wasn’t supposed to be watching,” she says waving a hand. “It’s a private moment. Please carry on.” Just like that she hurries off, no doubt to start the guest list.

I glance at Taylor, and her eyes are saucer-wide.

“She thinks—” I begin.

Taylor groans, and presses her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my god. I know what she thinks.”

I get to my feet, holding out the cheap plastic ring. “We can’t let her believe…”

“No.” She agrees quickly, wholeheartedly and I appreciate that. I think. “We need to set the record straight before she does something crazy, like call your parents.”

“Or Elvis.”

My stomach tightens, none of this sitting right and I’m not sure it’s just because Grandma read this unfortunate situation all wrong. “I can see how it looked, but does she really think I’d propose to you with a plastic ring?” I shake my head, nearly offended. “I’d never do that, Taylor. You deserve better. Surely, Grandma knows that.”

Taylor shrugs and plucks the ring from my hands. “I don’t know. It’s kind of cute and quirky. Perfect for a spontaneous Vegas wedding, don’t you think?” Before I can respond, she slips it onto her finger, holding out her hand to admire it. “What do you know?” She flashes me a grin. “It fits.”

My chest tightens and suddenly breathing seems to be a bit more difficult. For some unknown reason, I say, “Grandma has a ring…her ring. The one she’d want me to give my bride when the time came.”

“That…” she murmurs, her voice softer, warmer, “…is the sweetest thing, Elias.”

Okay that actually takes me by surprise. “You really think so?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Why, don’t you?”

“I always figured any woman would want her own ring. A big shiny one that she or her future husband picked out. Grandma’s ring is pretty old-fashioned.”

Taylor lifts a brow, giving me a look. “Maybe you don’t know women.”

I huff out a laugh. “I’m not going to disagree with you on that.”

Her expression softens. “It’s actually really sweet. Any girl would be lucky to have a ring that your grandmother wore and wanted to pass down. I love traditions like that.” She pauses her expression even softer, a longing in her eyes. “That’s not something that happens in my family. I wish things were different.” My throat tightens. I know she’s wishing her mother was still alive. “I want traditions. Kalen does too, which is why he tries so hard during the holidays.”

I watch her, something tightening in my chest. Needing to lighten things, I chuckle playfully…or maybe it’s not so playfully at all. “I guess it’s too bad I’m not giving Grandma’s ring to you then,” I half tease waiting for her response. What? Do I expect her to say she’d like it if I did ask her to marry me? Like it if I put Grandma’s ring on her finger? That’s just crazy wishful thinking at its finest. Or worst.

Taylor glances off to the side, and her shoulders drop with a sigh. “Should we go burst her bubble?” She looks back at me, worry etched into her face, her nose scrunched slightly. “God, I never wanted this to happen, Elias. Do you think this is going to really crush her?”

My stomach twists.

Dammit, why the hell did I ever listen to Roman? Not that it matters now. I’m the one who went forward with the plan. Whatever happens next—whatever the fallout from this misunderstanding—it’s on me.

“This isn’t your fault, T. Don’t ever think it is.”

She shifts from one foot to the other. “So you’re saying she is going to be crushed.”

I exhale harshly and run my fingers through my hair. “Unfortunately, I am.”

“Elias. We can’t do that.”

“I don’t want to, Taylor. But we can’t pretend we’re engaged or…” I force a hollow laugh. “… actually get married just to keep Grandma happy, right?”

Did I really just pose that as a question?

Taylor shoots me a pained look. “You’re right. Let’s go set the record straight.” I make a move to go, but she doesn’t budge. Instead she mutters something under her breath, tugging at her hand.

“I can’t get this off.” I glance down to see her struggling with the plastic ring. She yanks at it again, and again, her face twisting with frustration. “It must be the heat.” She holds her hand out to me.

I try, gently twisting the thing, but it won’t budge. “Keep it behind your back. I’ll snap it off when we get back to the room.” She nods, and I take her other hand, giving her a tug. She drags her feet. “I can’t do this alone, T.”

“I know.” She reluctantly kicks one foot out in front of the other, and when we walk into the ballroom, I find Grandma chatting with Rip beneath the wedding arbor. What is he doing here? I figured he’d still be out partying.

He spots us and a wide, knowing grin spreads across his face. Let me guess. Grandma told him what she’d just witnessed in the hallway. By the time we reach them, Rip is already reaching for Taylor’s hand. Before she can hide it, he pulls it forward, examining the ridiculous plastic ring.

“Classic,” he jokes. “I guess a congratulations is in order.” He claps me on the back. “I had no idea it was so serious.”

“Uh—”

He grins at Taylor as Grandma beams up at us. “I guess there will be no date for us after we beat Boston next game, huh?”

Like that was ever going to happen.

“Uh, no. No date,” Taylor mumbles, looking at me, clearly waiting for me to fix this.

But before I can, Rip gestures toward the decorated wedding arbor above us, his grin widening. “Hey, this is Vegas, where spontaneity is the name of the game. And look at this gorgeous place.” His grin holds a measure of mischief. “It’s all set up for tomorrow. But tonight…I can marry you both.” With a nudge, he jokes, “Much better than an Elvis impersonator wedding. Amiright or amiright?”

Oh, he’s right, because we have a marriage license and an Elvis impersonator wedding would be official.

“So what do you say? Want to get married? Right here? Right now?”

I don’t even need to look at Grandma to know she’s dancing in her sensible walking shoes.

What is even happening in my life?