Mr. and Mrs. Graves.
Diana’s favorite saying described the situation perfectly: Shit just got real.
It was strange to think that by eight o’clock on a Sunday in mid-August, I was legally a married woman.
After the chapel gave us our CD with our five photographs and paperwork, we headed back to the hotel in a dream-like state. At least for me it seemed like a dream. A weird, weird, weird dream that resembled more of an acid trip than reality. Neither one of us said much, but I was busy thinking about what we’d done, and knowing Aiden, he was thinking about his next preseason game.
We headed into our respective rooms, only exchanging a forced smile from me and a slightly pinched mouth from him. I must have sat on the edge of the bed for at least thirty minutes, simply getting my thoughts together. The walls seemed to close in on me, and I started to feel itchy and restless.
Married. I was freaking married. The woman at the chapel had called me Mrs. Graves.
I married Aiden.
There was no way I could have stayed in that room all night. I was too amped up to work or draw. Crawling out of my skin, I needed something else to keep my mind on. So I thought about all the things I used to imagine doing when Vegas came to mind, and there was really only one thing on the list: I wanted to see a show.
After making sure I had my ID and debit card, I got up and walked into the living area of the suite to find it empty. Peeking into Aiden’s room, I found him asleep on the bed, fully-clothed and completely passed out. One big palm was being used as a pillow and the other was tucked between his thighs, a super-soft, barely audible whistling sound coming out of his mouth.
I glanced at my watch and hesitated for a second. He probably wouldn’t want to go, would he?
Nah.
He didn’t seem like the type to get excited over acrobats and clowns in extravagant costumes, much less crowds. Grabbing the notepad on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed he was on, I jotted down a message.
Aiden—
Going for a walk around the Strip. I might try to catch a show if there are still tickets available. Be back later. I have my phone on me.
-V
I tippy-toed out of the room, slowly closed the hotel door behind me, and I was out of there.
Las Vegas wasn’t exactly the best place in the world for a single female traveler, but with all the people on the street walking around, I figured it could have been a lot worse. It was easy to blend in. I walked down the street and took my time going in and out of some of the shops. Tourists of all ages and nationalities filled the stores, and I didn’t feel as lonely as I thought I would have walking around this unknown city all by myself on the same day I’d married my ex-boss.
I was looking around the M&M store when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. When I pulled it out, Miranda P. flashed across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” the raspy, sleepy voice asked.
I named the store with a frown as some asshole shoved me from behind to get to the display in front of me.
Aiden cursed, and I had to pull the phone away from my face to make sure it really was him calling and not his evil twin. “Wait there,” he demanded.
“For what?” I asked just as the line went dead.
Was he coming? And had he just cussed or was I imagining it?
I wasn’t sure. I browsed the store for a while and was barely walking out when I happened to glance in the direction I’d come from. Towering over everyone down the block, was what had to be Aiden’s big head. I couldn’t see his face because his hood was up, but I knew it was him just from the way he held his shoulders. I was too far away to see his eyes, but I could tell he was looking around.
It was a fact that even with his hood on, I could tell he was irritated. I stood off to the side by the doors and watched him make his way around the tourists oblivious to his presence. The second his gaze landed on me, I sensed it and waved.
His mouth went a little funny in a way that I recognized all too well.
What the hell was he mad about anyway?
“What are you doing?” he snapped the instant he was close enough to be heard.
I lifted my shoulders, shoving my glasses up the bridge of my nose in the process. “Walking around.”
“You could have woken me up to come with you,” he practically hissed, stopping a foot away from me.
First off, his attitude was getting on my nerves. Secondly, I wasn’t a fan of the tone of voice he was using. “Why would I wake you up?”
The few inches of his jaw that were visible were tight. “So I could come with you. Why else?”
He was giving me that look.
One, two, three, four, five.
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t know you’d want to come. I figured you would rather stay in the hotel room and rest.” After all, he’d been taking a nap when I looked for him.
The long line of his throat rippled. “I would’ve rather stayed in, but I also don’t need you getting kidnapped and being used as a drug mule.”
God help me. I looked around at the thousands of people making their way up and down along the Strip to make sure I wasn’t imagining them. “You really think someone’s going to kidnap me here? Really?”
Aiden’s nostrils flared. He stared down at me.
I stared back.
“You’re already giving me a headache and it’s been four hours.”
“I was trying to be nice and leave you alone, not give you a headache. Come on.” I huffed. “I’m just walking around. I have gone places without you.” A few. But not by myself. I wasn’t going to admit that out loud though, especially now when he was getting all bent out of shape for no reason.
He kept glaring at me, that look that got on my nerves taking over his features inch by inch. “That’s stupid. You’re—what? Five seven? Five eight? A hundred and forty pounds? You can’t walk around Las Vegas by yourself,” he stressed, his tone so tight I reeled back.
I blinked in confusion and surprise. “Aiden, it isn’t a big deal. I’m used to doing things by myself.”
The lids over those big, brown eyes lowered slowly, a deep breath blowing from pursed lips, as if we were the only people on the Strip when that absolutely wasn’t anywhere close to the truth. “Maybe you’re used to doing things by yourself, but don’t be an idiot.” He started off calmly, totally in control. “I didn’t know where you were. There’s crime here—don’t give me that face. I know there’s crime everywhere. We might not be doing this for the reasons most people do, but I made a vow, Van. And I promised you we would try to be friends. Friends don’t let friends wander around alone.” He pinned me with a glare. “You aren’t the only one who takes their promises seriously.”
Uh. What was happening?
Those dark eyes were the steadiest thing I’d ever seen as he said, “I can’t do this without you.”
Well, shit. I wasn’t sure I even knew how to talk after that.
Our marriage—vomit, hurl, and diarrhea—wasn’t real, but he had a point. We had made vows I couldn’t seem to remember because I hadn’t been listening. But the point was, we had made promises to each other even before that, and I didn’t ever want to be the type of person who backed out on their word.
“I won’t go anywhere until you’re a resident, big guy. I promise.”
His gaze swept over my face for the longest second of my life, and eventually, eventually, he cleared his throat. “What is it you want to do?” he grumbled suddenly, as if he hadn’t just said the most meaningful words I’d ever heard come out of his mouth.
To give him credit, he didn’t complain once after I told him the name of the production I wanted to go watch. But I was also clasping my hands together in front of my chest like I was a little kid begging for something. “It’s all I want to go see.”