Page 94 of Rock Bottom

“What’s wrong?” I leaned over to see what had startled her.

“This is me!” Her eyes were as round as saucers as she stared at a picture of us on the red carpet.

“It is.” I took her phone from her and grinned. “You looked fucking amazing last night.”

“Oh my god. They’re calling me Big Z’s Big Squeeze,” she said, making a face.

“Well, you are. Aren’t you?”

“I guess.” She looked up at me. “Am I? I mean, you moved us here and we live together, but that was because of the baby. Now that it’s been a few weeks, we should probably have a conversation about the future.”

“I thought we already did that,” I said, pulling her astride me so she was straddling my hips. I rested my hands on the sides of her thighs. “If this was just about Jeremy, I could have bought you a house or condo nearby. I could see my son regularly and move on with my life. But that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?” she whispered. Her eyes were clouded with doubt, and I wondered what Aurora had said to put that there. She’d been fine until now.

“You know what I want,” I said patiently. “You. Me. Us. Our family.”

“For how long?”

“Come on, baby.” I ran my hands up her sides until I got to her shoulders. Then I clamped down on them, pulling her torso down so we were eye to eye. “I’ve told you this. You want to head to Vegas and get married this afternoon? Will that convince you I’m in this for the long haul?”

“M-married?” Her eyes rounded all over again.

“If you want to. If that’s what it’ll take to convince you I’m serious.”

“Zeke, I don’t want to manipulate you or guilt you into anything. Marriage is a serious commitment and—”

I yanked her against me and kissed her, long and hard and deep. “I’m good with serious. I’m good with commitment. And whatever bullshit Aurora put in your head, forget about it. She’s jealous. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she and I had a thing, but it was never serious, and she knew it. I never lied to her or any woman I’ve ever been involved with, and I don’t intend to start now. If I didn’t want you here, do you really think I’d have you and Aunt Meg living in my house, immersed in my family, sleeping in my bed? Babe, you’ve been mine since the first time I saw you.”

She cocked her head. “At the bar?”

“No. At the venue, when none of us wanted to give you an interview. I only caught a glimpse of you, standing there looking so hopeful and nervous, and whatever it was I felt, it hit me in the gut. I’ve never, not in the decade I’ve been doing this, felt guilty about blowing off a reporter. But I did that night. Obviously, it was fleeting and not enough to make me turn around, but fate brought us together again. The fact that you gifted me your virginity was special, and I think even then, I was subconsciously freaking out because I knew you were different. That’s a big part of the reason I reacted the way I did when I heard you on the phone. I was scared, Sunny.”

“I was so hurt,” she whispered, dropping down so her head now rested on my chest and her long, lean body was sprawled across my bigger one.

“I know.” I wrapped my arms around her. “But that’s in the past, and I want us to look toward the future. If you want to drive to Vegas today to get married, let’s do it. It’s probably not the big wedding you’ve always dreamed of, but we can do that later. I want you to be part of me. Officially.”

“Aunt Meg would kill me,” she said, laughing.

“No one has to know. We can do it secretly and come back from Vegas engaged. Then we’ll plan the wedding.”

She lifted her head and stared at me. “I want to say that’s crazy. It is crazy.” She paused. “So why doesn’t it feel crazy?”

“Because we’re meant to be.”

“How far is it to Vegas?” she asked, sitting up and rolling to the side.

“About three-and-a-half hours, depending on traffic. I can make it in three if traffic cooperates. We’ll take the Maserati.”

“What about Jeremy?”

“Sweetheart, if I’m going to make you my wife today, the baby is staying here with Grandma, Grandpa, and Auntie Meg. We are not getting up with him on our wedding night.”

We stared at each other for a long time.

“What about a prenup?” she asked quietly. “I’m not in this for the money, and I don’t want anyone to say I am. In fact, I’d feel better if we had one.”

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll call my lawyer and have him draw something up. He can email it to me, I’ll print it, and we’ll find a notary in Vegas who can witness us signing. But let’s be clear, I’m not putting anything stupid in there, like you get a million dollars for every year we’re married or shit like that. I’ll stipulate something that protects the band’s interests, and any holdings I have with my parents, but beyond that, I’m not playing games here, Presley.”

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