“Yep!” I said, pulling him inside. The ceiling was distractingly ornate. Everybody in the lobby was standing around with their noses in the air.

“What are you—?” I said, turning to Travis. He was letting me pull him while he took in the ceiling.

“Look, Pidge! It’s . . . wow,” he said, in awe of the huge, multicolored flowers kissing the ceiling.

“Yep!” I said, tugging him to the front desk.

“Checking in,” I said. “And we need to schedule a wedding at a local chapel.”

“Which one?” the man asked.

“Any one. A nice one. A twenty-four-hour one.”

“We can arrange that. I’ll just get you checked in here, and then the concierge can help you with a wedding chapel, shows, anything you’d like.”

“Great,” I said, turning to Travis with a triumphant grin. He was still staring at the ceiling.

“Travis!” I said, pulling on his arm.

He turned, snapping out of his hypnotic state. “Yeah?”

“Can you go over to the concierge and get the wedding scheduled?”

“Yeah? I mean yeah. I can do that. Which one?”

I laughed once. “Close. Open all night. Classy.”

“Got it,” he said. He pecked my cheek before pulling the carry-on to the concierge desk.

“We’re under Maddox,” I said, pulling out a piece of paper. “This is our confirmation number.”

“Ah, yes. I have a honeymoon suite available if you’d like to upgrade?”

I shook my head. “We’re good.” Travis was across the room, talking with a man behind the desk. They were looking at a brochure together, and he had a huge smile on his face while the man pointed out the different venues.

“Please let this work,” I said under my breath.

“What was that, ma’am?”

“Oh. Nothing,” I said as he returned to clicking away on his computer.

Travis

Abby leaned in with a smile when I kissed her cheek, and then continued with check-in while I popped over to the concierge to nail down a chapel. I glanced over at my soon-to-be wife, her long legs propped up by those wedge heel shoes that make a nice pair of legs look even nicer. Her flow-y, thin shirt was just see-through enough that I felt disappointed to see a tank top under it. Her favorite sunglasses were perched on the front of her favorite fedora, and just a few long locks of her caramel hair, a little wavy from drying naturally after her shower, were cascading out from under the hat. My God, that woman was fucking sexy. She didn’t even have to try, and all I wanted was to be all up in her business. Now that we were engaged that didn’t sound like such a bastard thing to think.

“Sir?” the concierge said.

“Oh, yeah. Hey,” I said, taking a last glance at Abby before giving the guy my full attention. “I need a chapel. Open all night. Classy.”

He smiled. “Of course, sir. We have several for you right here at the Bellagio. They are absolutely beautiful and—”