[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
After: Viva Las Vegas


Ashley

No way in hell is he serious.

Haul off and marry me in Las Vegas? What kind of damn drugs is he on?

No way does he want to do that. Not really.

Nick get married?

To me?

And yet...

The look on Nick's face was not his I'm-just-fucking-with-you expression. The gleam in his eye was more of the please-say-yes variety than the what-the-fuck-have-I-done sort. The pace of his breath was more scared-to-be-rejected than shit-what-if-she-agrees.

Is he serious?

Was this the moment that I'd been dreaming about since I was a little girl? Was this the moment that one day I'd go all Ted Mosby-ish and tell my kids all about? Was this Nick proposing to me?

I couldn't catch my breath, I couldn't move. I could tell that the silence was making him nervous and uncomfortable and with every passing second he got twitchier and his face got paler. I was scaring the poor guy to death and yet I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around what was happening long enough to squeak out an answer.

Do I want to marry Nick?

I pictured him when he was older, more lines on his face, his eyes probably a little paler, his hair thinner. I pictured him on a porch in a rocking chair. I pictured him with dentures and glasses and pants that rode up over his belly like Fred Mertz.

I've never imagined a sexier old man in all my damn life.

My mouth went dry, my jaw hanging slack. Nick looked about ready to hurl.

What about Chris? my mind reeled, What about the wedding? The honeymoon you've already booked? What about the wild penguins?

But I knew Nick would take me to see the penguins if I asked him.

"Yes," I said outloud. At first I didn't even think I'd actually said it. It felt like an extension of my thoughts, and Nick didn't immediately react, he stayed steadily staring at me, his eyes wide.

I suddenly became aware of the waitress. When she showed up at our table, only God knows. She was talking about sugar or something and she was making it snow over our little pancake balls and Nick looked up at her. "We need these to go," he said.

She looked confused, "I - what?"

"To go," he said, "We have a wedding to get to."

My heart was slamming. The poor confused waitress took the plate away, grumbling, and Nick never peeled his eyes away from mine. "You're serious about this?" he questioned me.

"I could ask the same of you," I replied.

"I'm serious," he said levelly.

"Me, too," I answered.

We kept staring at each other until the waitress returned with a pile of three take out containers in a bag. "Here's your meals, and your check whenever you're ready for it," she said.

Nick handed her a fifty. "That should do it." He took the bag and stood up, offering his hand to me.

I stared at the lifeline stretching across his palm. I followed his arm with my eyes - up, over his biceps, over his shoulder, up his neck to his face, to his eyes.

"C'mon," he said. I thought of Aladdin inviting Jasmine onto his magic carpet, the first time that Jasmine had been out of Agrabah.

I let him pull me up out of the booth.

And I suddenly realized... I was gonna marry Nick Carter.




Nick

The next thing I knew, we were running down the street, back to the car. I had the bag of food on my wrist, Ashley was shrieking and holding one of those free newspapers over her hair. It had started raining while we were in there, and there were pools of water in the street and on the sidewalks, reflecting the neon lights. The puddles broke like fireworks under our feet as we splashed through on our way to the car.

"What about our honeymoon?" Ashley asked as we ran.

"We'll go any place, any place in the world," I shouted back.

Ashley grabbed my hand, trailing behind by one or two steps, "And where will we live?" she asked.

"My place," I answered, "You've always loved my place."

"Can I paint the living room?"

"Baby, you can do anything you wanna do," I answered.

"Anything?"

"Anything..." I said. "Ashley, I'd give you the world and everything in it if I had it to give."

She smiled up at me as we crossed the parking lot for the 7-Eleven. "And we'll take walks on the beach at nigh, drinking coffee and listening to the seagulls."

"Under the stars," I added.

Her eyes were dreamy. "And we'll drink beers and shoot golf balls off the back porch," she laughed, "And fight over the Buccs games."

"And we'll do shots during the commercial breaks," I laughed.

"And have a giant portrait of Elvis over the fireplace," Ashley said excitedly, "Since he's our minister and all," she laughed.

We arrived at the car and she started to go around to the passanger side, but I caught her hand and stalled her. She turned to look up at me, her eyes glowing in the dim orangey light of the garage. "Ashley," I said, "I love you."

It was so much easier to say now that she knew, now that I'd said it once, now that it was in the air between us. There were no sirens, no distractions, no interruptions. Just the words, out of my mouth and into her ears.

Ashley smiled up at me. "I love you, Nick," she answered.

She stood on tip toes, and our mouths met, and I slipped my fingers up through her hair, pulled her closer, sliding my other hand to the small of her back. She fit so perfectly in my hands, fit so perfectly against my mouth. Everything about her was perfect.

We broke the kiss and Ashley grinned up at me, and we separated, each getting into our own sides of the car. I rolled the top up and the engine roared to life and I reached over and twined my fingers between hers and she turned on a playlist on her iPod on my speakers and the music filled the cabin of the car as the roof closed over.

It was Elvis Presley.

"Viva Las Vegas," I said, smiling.

"Viva Las Vegas," she agreed, nodding.

If we had gone straight to Las Vegas from that parking garage -- if Ashley hadn't remembered her wedding dress, and we hadn't gone back to the hotel... if we hadn't stopped at the gas station halfway to Nevada to get breath mints and condoms... -- if the story had ended with us getting in the car and going, then maybe Ashley and I would've been married by Elvis Presley in Las Vegas that night.

But if there's one thing that I've learned over the last couple years it's this:

The story doesn't always end where you want it to.