“Vegas?” she asked.
I frowned, forming a line between my brows. “Yeah?”
“Have you thought about going back?”
My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “I don’t think that’s a good idea for me.”
“What if we just went for a night?”
I glanced around the dark room, confused. “A night?”
“Marry me,” she blurted out. I heard the words, but it took a second for them to register.
My mouth widened into a ridiculous grin. She was full of shit, but if that was what helped get her mind off what we’d just gone through, I was happy to play along.
“When?”
She shrugged. “We can book a flight tomorrow. It’s spring break. I don’t have anything going on tomorrow, do you?”
“I’m callin’ your bluff,” I said, reaching for my phone. Abby lifted her chin, making a show of her stubborn side. “American Airlines,” I said, watching her reaction closely. She didn’t flinch.
“American Airlines, how can I help you?”
“I need two tickets to Vegas, please. Tomorrow.”
The woman looked up a flight time, and then asked how long we were going to stay.
“Hmmmm . . .” I waited for Abby to give in, but she didn’t. “Two days, round-trip. Whatever you have.”
She rested her chin on my chest with a big smile, waiting for me to finish the call.
The woman asked for my payment information, so I asked Abby for my wallet. That was the point I thought she would laugh and tell me to hang up the phone, but she happily pulled out the card from my wallet and handed it to me.
I gave my credit card numbers to the agent, glancing up at Abby after each set. She just listened, amused. I said the expiration date, and it crossed my mind that I was about to pay for two plane tickets we probably wouldn’t use. Abby did have a hell of a poker face, after all. “Er, yes ma’am. We’ll just pick them up at the desk. Thank you.”
I handed Abby the phone, and she placed it on the night stand.
“You just asked me to marry you,” I said, still waiting for her to admit she wasn’t serious.
“I know.”
“That was the real deal, you know. I just booked two tickets to Vegas for noon tomorrow. So that means we’re getting married tomorrow night.”
“Thank you.”
My eyes narrowed. “You’re going to be Mrs. Maddox when you start classes on Monday.”
“Oh,” she said, looking around.
I raised an eyebrow. “Second thoughts?”
“I’m going to have some serious paperwork to change next week.”
I nodded slowly, cautiously hopeful. “You’re going to marry me tomorrow?”
She grinned. “Uh-huh.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yep.”
“I fucking love you!” I grabbed each side of her face, slamming my lips against hers. “I love you so much, Pigeon,” I said, kissing her over and over. Her lips had trouble keeping up.
“Just remember that in fifty years when I’m still kicking your ass in poker.” She giggled.
“If it means sixty or seventy years with you, baby . . . you have my full permission to do your worst.”
She raised one eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”
“I bet I won’t.”
Her sweet grin turned into the expression of the confident Abby Abernathy I saw hustling pros at the poker table in Vegas. “Are you confident enough to bet that shiny bike outside?”
“I’ll put in everything I have. I don’t regret a single second with you, Pidge, and I never will.”
She held out her hand and I took it without hesitation, shaking it once, and then bringing it to my mouth, pressing my lips tenderly against her knuckles.
“Abby Maddox . . . ,” I said, unable to stop smiling.
She hugged me, tensing her shoulders as she squeezed. “Travis and Abby Maddox. Has a nice ring to it.”
“Ring?” I said, frowning.
“We’ll worry about rings later. I sort of sprung this on you.”
“Uh . . .” I trailed off, remembering the box in the drawer. I wondered if giving it to her was even a good idea. A few weeks ago, maybe even a few days ago, Abby might have freaked out, but we were past that now. I hoped.
“What?”
“Don’t freak out,” I said. “I kind of . . . already took care of that part.”
“What part?”
I stared up at the ceiling and sighed, realizing my mistake too late. “You’re going to freak out.”
“Travis . . .”
I reached for the drawer of the nightstand, and felt around for a moment.
Abby frowned, and then blew her damp hair from her eyes. “What? You bought condoms?”
I laughed once. “No, Pidge,” I said, reaching farther into the drawer. My hand finally touched the familiar corners, and I watched Abby’s expression as I pulled the small box from its hiding place.
Abby looked down as I placed the small velvet square on my chest, reaching behind me to rest my head on my arm.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“What does it look like?”
“Okay. Let me rephrase the question: When did you get that?”
I inhaled. “A while ago.”