Since I was a kid, I’d always dreamed of a huge wedding, one where I wore a big, princess ball gown and there was a five-course meal, and I had a half dozen attendants. Since getting engaged, I’d been worried that I wouldn’t be able to get all my friends and family together in one place for a wedding. I now knew that was impossible.
And I didn’t really care.
I didn’t need the huge guest list, the ridiculously expensive gown, the string quartet, the trained doves (because there had to be doves).
Now I knew that was all window dressing to what I really wanted.
My conditions were met—I would travel with Thierry as he began his job as consultant for the Ring. While he hadn’t officially confirmed it, I knew the only reason he’d taken the job or threatened Bernard’s life was because they’d threatened mine. But what better way for him to keep an eye on me than if I was by his side?
I could have moved to Vancouver and started a new life like Amy suggested. But I didn’t want that. I already had exactly what I wanted. And the best part? I now knew without a doubt that he wanted me, too.
Thierry’s condition was this: If I wanted to marry him, then I needed to put my money where my mouth was. Now. Did I really want to be committed to a six-centuries-old master vampire with a shady new job and an even shadier past? Did I trust him enough to give him my hand in marriage, binding us together from this day forward?
The answer was an unequivocal Y-E-S.
So here we were. In a Las Vegas wedding chapel called the Love Shack.
I wore a sparkly off-white shift dress and gold pumps I’d bought only this morning. Thierry wore—shocker—a black Hugo Boss suit.
No family or old friends in attendance. Instead, we had new friends: Charles and Victoria.
I’d been happy to hear that she wouldn’t have to do any more pageants or adopt a life of crime to make a living. On the conference call last night, Thierry had been authorized to hire her on as a noncontracted undercover “child” agent for the Ring for occasional missions. Since she’d wanted to try acting, she was thrilled for the opportunity to stretch her theatrical legs in a potentially beneficial way. And also make a very generous paycheck.
Charles was our official witness and Victoria was our flower girl—and unofficial maid of honor. She wore her prettiest and frilliest pink dress for the occasion. It did smell a little bit like cigarette smoke, but I was willing to overlook that.
“Do you, Sarah, take Thierry as your hunka-hunka-burning-love husband from this day forward until death do you part?”
Thierry grimaced a little at that. I watched him with amusement. This had been his idea, after all. And I had to admit, I was the one who’d insisted on the “Love Me Tender” ceremony.
I looked from the Elvis impersonator’s gold lamé suit and long black sideburns to Thierry. He stood next to me, holding my hands, and he studied me as if he still expected me to change my mind and go running for the hills at any given moment.
“I do,” I said firmly.
“And do you, Thierry, take Sarah as your jailhouse-rockin’ wife, from this day forward until death do you part?”
“I do,” he said firmly, holding my gaze.
“Then by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May you never be lonesome tonight or move into a heartbreak hotel again. Thierry, it’s now or never. You may kiss your beautiful bride.”
Instead of cringing again at our spectacularly cheesy (and completely awesome) ceremony, Thierry focused all his attention on me. I grinned at him as if shocked that this had actually happened without the world exploding right in the middle of it.
“We’re married,” I told him.
“We are. I love you, Sarah.”
My heart swelled. “I love you, too.”
He cupped my face between his hands and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him, almost losing my hold on my small bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath—which was a thirty-dollar wedding package add-on. We’d kissed plenty of times over the months since we first met, but this one felt different. It was the first kiss in the next chapter of our lives.
Despite any questions I had, secrets he had, or promises I’d made to curious parties, Thierry had just made me the happiest woman on earth. And I was going to try my very best to return the favor.
I honestly had no idea whatsoever what tomorrow might bring—or the day, week, year, decade, or even century after that. But, really, why spend time worrying about the future when the present was this bloody fabulous?