Page 225 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

“You bought me a suit?”

She bounces on her toes. “Yes!”

“Why on earth would you buy me a suit?”

She parks her hands on her hips and stares daggers at me in our room at the Luxe, a hotel run by one of Evie’s good friends.

“Patrick, do you have any idea how handsome you look in a suit?”

I shake my head. “Oddly enough, I do not.”

“You’re stunning. I happen to be a big fan of you in a suit, and you’re going to marry me in a suit. That’s just the way it goes.”

“But will it fit?”

She rolls her eyes. “Kangaroo, where there’s a will, there’s a way.

That same sister who picked my ring also went to your apartment and snagged your suit measurements for me.

She helped me find a tailor here in Vegas, and he made sure it would fit you.

I had it sent to the hotel, and the rest is going down in quickie wedding history. ”

And so, I put on the charcoal suit my bride chose for me, while she slips into a simple, shimmery white dress that stops at her knees. The bunny necklace rests on the soft skin of her neck. Her diamond ring gleams on her hand.

On her feet are flats. “I don’t care if I’m a foot shorter than you. I’m not hiking up a hill in heels.”

And that’s another reason why I love this woman. She likes simple solutions.

With our marriage license in hand—that is one thing I do love about this city, you can get a marriage license with a snap of your fingers—we climb into the limo that picks us up at our hotel.

It’s part of the wedding package I ordered.

The car whisks us away to Red Rocks Canyon, on the horizon west of Vegas.

There, we walk along a trail, framed by rust-red cliffs and rocks, and meet the officiant. His name is Walker, he wears a black suit and a white shirt, and his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose.

The sun hangs low in the sky, its bright peach and fiery-orange rays signaling the coming sunset.

Walker clears his throat. “We are gathered here today to join Patrick and Mia in holy matrimony.”

Since this is a simple ceremony, he slides right into the vows. “Do you, Patrick, take Mia to be your wife?”

With my gaze locked to hers, I give the easiest answer ever. “I do.”

"Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?"

"I do."

Walker looks to Mia. “Do you, Mia, take Patrick to be your husband?"

Her smile can’t be contained. “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him?”

“I do.”

And I soar. I am officially the happiest man in the world.

“It is now time for the exchanging of the rings.”

From my suit pocket, I take out the platinum bands from a small velvet bag and hold up hers.

“I promise to love you, cherish you, hold your hand on balconies, take care of you whenever you need me, and hold you from this day forward, until death do us part,” I say, and Mia’s eyes well with tears as I slide the band on her finger.

She takes mine. “I promise to love you, cherish you, hold your hand over bridges, take care of you whenever you need me, and hold you from this day forward, until death do us part.”

She puts the ring on my finger.

“You may kiss the bride.”

And so I do, kissing her sweet lips, cherishing her taste, loving that as the sun sets over the cliffs, this woman is now my wife.

Later that night, I make love to her, and it just gets better and better every single time.

When she curls up against me for our first night together as husband and wife, I hold her hand, studying our rings.

“I love our rings,” she says, snuggling against me.

“The best part is what’s engraved.”

She laughs and dots a kiss on my nose. “That is the best part of these rings.”

After all, it says what’s always been true.

The cat knew first.