Page 34 of One Pucking Heart

I return my attention to Beckett. “I love you,” I say the last line of Elvis’s prescribed vows.

We exchange rings, some simple silver-plated bands that Beckett picked up in the hotel gift shop.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Elvis cheers.

The entire ceremony only lasted a couple of minutes, and at the same time, I feel as if I waited for this moment my entire life.

Elvis does some pelvic thrusts and jerks his arm over his belly like he’s playing an air guitar and says, “Now, a little less conversation. Kiss the bride!”

Beckett leans in and gives me a peck on the lips.

“What was that?” Elvis steps back in a snarl. “That was not what I call a hunk of burning love. Do it again and this time I want to be all shook up.”

Beckett chuckles and takes a step toward me. He cups my face, leaning in a second time. Only this kiss is so different from the first. As his tongue enters my mouth, the chapel is filled with music as the real Elvis sings, “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The song, so beautiful, and Beckett’s kiss, so intoxicating, have me wanting to melt into a pile of emotional mush right here on the hideous red carpet of the chapel.

This isn’t real.

This will end.

The thoughts play on repeat in my mind because, at this moment, it feels utterly real, and the very last thing I want it to do is end.

I circle my arms around Beckett and pull our bodies closer, needing to feel him against me. The world melts away and it’s just me, Beckett, Elvis’s beautiful voice, and this kiss. I want this moment to last forever. I know it’s not reality, but it’s the best I’ve felt in a long time, so I need to relish it.

We start to sway, moving to the melody, and I pour my soul into this kiss.

My lips start to ache, and Beckett pulls away. “Congratulations, Mrs. Feldmore.”

Leaning back, I glare up at him. “Yeah, I’m keeping my name.”

Beckett laughs.

The chapel photographer follows us out to our convertible and takes some shots of us in front of the pink car. It’s part of the experience, and something I will want to remember. He tells us that he’ll email the drive with the photos and videos, then he goes back inside as another bride and groom head into the chapel.

“We should stick around and watch their wedding,” Beckett teases. “I wonder if Elvis uses the same script and awful puns with everyone.”

“Oh, I’m sure. He’s not very clever. Where did he disappear to anyway?”

“I think he went out back for a smoke before the next couple arrived.”

“Ahh, well, that’s fine. Our wedding dance was better without him hovering over us anyway.” I leave out the fact that the wedding dance was perfection.

“It was. Ready to go have some fun, Mrs. Feldmore?” He grins.

I quirk a brow. “If you keep calling me that, I’m going to refer to you as Mr. Cortez.”

He shrugs, opening the car door for me. “You do what you gotta do. What should our first outing be as a married couple?”

“I am kinda hungry.”

He slides into the driver’s side door and starts the car. “Food it is. No worries, babe. I got you.”

The expression is so casual, but it makes me feel cherished. I love the way Beckett takes care of me even though he doesn’t have to. If I’m honest with myself, it’s nice to be taken care of.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ELENA

As promised, Beckett introduced me to the best Italian food after a romantic gondola ride down the river inside the Venetian. The place in Ann Arbor still holds the record for the best calamari, but the noodles here are incredible. All handmade in Italy and flown in, they take these dishes to the next level.

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