Page 61 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” he said.

“I thought we were going to a local JP,” she said. “My mother is going to kill me.”

“No, she won’t,” Fisher said. “We’ll be annulled before she even finds out we’re married.”

“You don’t know my mother.” She shook her head. “She loves weddings. Big ones with all of the trimmings. There’s a reason she’s had four of them, you know, and every one has been bigger than the last.”

“Isn’t that kind of—” he paused.

“Excessive?” Annie supplied. “Yes, it is. But that’s my mom.”

“Good for her,” he said.

“What?” she blinked.

“She hasn’t given up,” he said. “And she celebrates every trip down the aisle as if it’s her last. That’s an optimist.”

“I think you mean masochist.”

“No, I mean optimist,” he said. “I always thought I’d have a big wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I figured when I found the girl of my dreams, I would propose, she’d say yes, and we’d have the biggest shindig the city of Phoenix has ever seen.”

“That could still happen,” Annie said.

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

“So you really want a big wedding?”

“Yeah. When I marry, I want everyone to know how crazy in love I am. I want to share my happiness with everyone. I suppose that sounds corny to an antimarriage person like you.”

“No,” she said. “It sounds...nice.”

The rest of the trip was spent in relative silence. Annie tried not to think about what Fisher had said. She failed. He was going to marry someday and it was going to be a big to-do. A spurt of what felt like jealousy gnawed at her. She couldn’t be jealous of a future wife who didn’t even exist yet. That would be ridiculous. And yet, she did feel jealous...and, well, mad.

When they reached Vegas, they headed straight to city hall for their wedding license. Thirty-five dollars later they were on their way to the Strip, the notorious street in Vegas that was home to most of the large casinos and some infamous wedding chapels.

“There are some options,” Fisher said. “We can get married by a bloated Elvis, we can get married in a drive-thru, we can get married while bungee jumping or we can just find a quiet, out-of-the-way chapel.”

“A quiet, out-of-the-way chapel, please,” Annie said.

Fisher consulted a list of chapels as he inched north in the clogging traffic of the Strip. The street was jammed with pedestrians, wandering from one colossal casino to the next. A huge pyramid, a castle, an enormous emerald building with a gold lion perched out front and a replica of New York City were just a few of the buildings that caused Annie’s eyes to pop. She hadn’t been to Vegas in years and it looked as if it had tripled in size.

“Here we go.” Fisher consulted the map and turned off the Strip at the next light. They drove east, past the airport, until they were on the outskirts of town.

They turned onto a dirt road and the Jeep jutted over divots and bumps until Annie was sure her teeth were loose. They pulled up in front of a pretty, whitewashed adobe house with a verandah that was covered in deep magenta and golden yellow bougainvillea. A sign hung from a wrought iron post. It read: Chapel in the Garden of Eden.

The front door burst open with a blast from an organ and out danced a beaming young couple. The bride was swathed in white sequins and the groom wore a black tux jacket over blue jeans and cowboy boots. The couple laughed and ran to their car, apparently eager to begin their honeymoon.

Annie felt Fisher take her elbow and turn her toward the house. “Ready?”

“Sure,” she said with a bravado she didn’t feel.

When they walked through the door, an enormous pile of platinum blond hair greeted them from behind a desk.

“Good evening,” a sultry voice said. “How may I help you?”