Page 13 of Fall to Me
“To my groom,” I yell, holding the shot in the air as we gain another round of cheers and applauses.
“Put all that on my tab,” someone calls out over the noise.
Carter’s brows pull together.
I toss my shot back, not even tasting the alcohol or feeling a burn anymore when the clear liquid slides down my throat.
“Stop frowning and take the shot.” I guide his glass toward his mouth until it presses to his lips. “We have to move our asses if we want to win this thing. Next up . . . a wedding chapel. We have to get married.”
“Let me see that.” He snatches the card out of my hand. A finger moves to each thing we’ve ticked off. “It’s all blurry,” he complains.
“Right there!” I tap the little square. “It says pose as bride and groom.”
Carter nods as he links our fingers, then leads us through the club. We try our best to avoid stumbling into people but fail miserably.
He lifts our hands, and I twirl, giggling when I nearly fall.
“Carter Graham,” I singsong, even though I doubt he can hear me over the music. I don’t care. I’m having a blast. “We’re winning this Bingo! And techniques . . . That’s not the right word. What’s the fucking word? I guess it could be a technique.”
I frown.
“Tech . . .” I try again. “Technicalities! Yes! Technicalities are not gettin’ our way! We’re gettin’ married, baby!”
“Hell of a proposal,” he says, barely making sense. “Wait! Proposal . . . that’s on our card too.”
I slide my phone out of my back pocket and shove it into the chest of a nameless stranger. “Can you video this?”
Without waiting for a response, I turn around and stumble back to Carter. Then, I drop to one knee. The crowd goes nuts, cheering and whistling as I look him in the eyes and ask, “Carter Graham. Will you marry me?”
“Well, Kitten, I thought you’d never ask.” He lifts me up in his arms and spins us around.
“Wait! Is that a yes?” I giggle.
He lowers my feet back to the ground. “That’s a hell yes.”
Six
Carter
Alice Cooper’s singin’ on a black stage. In front of us. I think it’s him. Might not be. Hell, I don’t know. He’s blurry as hell. Everything’s fucking blurry as hell. And dark. It sounds like him though. He’s really good.
My palms are so sweaty in my bride’s hands.
My bride. Whoa.
Why are my hands so sweaty?
This music is so good. I love Rock.
Rock’s my favorite.
River’s my favorite.
I love River.
Fuck, this is awesome! I get to marry three Rivers.
How lucky am I?
