Page 53 of Side Out

“Yes…”

“Why? Are you some kind of mafia boss? Oh—No—I bet it’s your dad, and you’re set to take over the—” He puts his hands in front of our face and makes an air quote, saying, “Family business.”

I burst out into uncontrollable laughter because the whole thing… this entire inconveniently, bizarre situation is just as ridiculous as it sounds. But when I finally pull myself together and wipe the tears from my eyes, I realize Jax isn’t laughing with me this time. “Oh shit.” I clear my throat. “No. Not the mafia, Jax. Both of our families own vineyards in Virginia. We’ve been neighbors our whole life. Actually, our families have been neighbors for decades.”

He shakes his head, and his brows pull together in confusion. “Okay… so why an arranged marriage? This isn’t the eighteenth century.”

“At first I thought it was just because they wanted both of the family businesses to succeed. But the older I’ve gotten the more I realized it has always been… I don’t know… the plan I guess. Our families have been inseparable for as long as I can remember. It’s always been Bridget and me… Theo and Bridget… the two only children who were doted on by their parents. The only children that our parents would look at and go ‘I just can’t wait for them to get married one day, look at how cute they are.’ And one day I woke up and it was actually real. Their plan became my life, and I don’t even entirely know how or why it happened.”

“Wow.” He looks utterly dumbfounded. “This only child stuff makes way too much sense now.”

“What the hell’s wrong with being an only child?” I playfully slap his chest.

Jax sways and stops himself by placing his hands back on my shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but a relationship with two of you that aren’t used to sharing… it never ends well. And I can tell that your relationship with Bridget is anything but good.” My brows pull together because how would he know my relationship with Bridget isn’t good? But I don’t question it. All this serious talk this deep into shots should not be allowed. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I”—he raises his hand in the air—“have a plan. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll shut the fuck up, happily.” I raise my brow. “Well probably not, but I’ll at least try… for five minutes… okay, maybe two.”

“Let’s hear it,” I say with a laugh. Between the mounting pressure, the desire to never want to be out of Jackson’s arms again, and all of the liquid courage coursing through me, I’m down for just about anything. I’m just happy he’s talking to me. Looking at me.Touching me.

But then three words fall out of his gorgeous mouth, and it takes me all of a half of a second to realize the way I feel when he says them isnothingcompared to the way I felt when I said them to Bridget. “Let’s get married.”

Drink N Dance - Future, Metro Boomin

CHAPTER33

KOA

JACKSON

“Oooo, I want that one,” I say as I tap the glass of the display case. Fern, who is officially now my new best friend—move aside Clay—grabs the ring and sets it on the counter. Picking it up, I do my best to squint, turning the two fuzzy rings into one mostly clear one. It’s a black tungsten band with dark wood inlay.

“The wood actually comes from the Hawaiian islands,” Fern explains. “It’s Koa wood. Many native warriors used to use this wood to make their weapons, and now it’s a widely used symbol for strength.” She looks between Theo and I, and a knowing smile takes over her face. “The word Koa directly translates to ‘warrior.’ I can tell, sweetie, that’s you.”

“Yeah,” Theo says softly, and I look over at him. “It is.”

The two of us stare at one another for what feels like an eternity, when suddenly, the doors to the chapel burst open and a man in a tuxedo T-shirt who’s carrying his new bride comes barreling out.

“Alright, dolls!” Fern claps her hands together. “You’re up!” She places two glasses on the counter before filling them with a mystery amber liquid. “I have everything I need from you two, and I’ll charge the rings to the card you used for the license. Tip ‘em back, and go get yourselves married!”

Theo and I each grab our glasses. “What’s one more?” he asks with a smile a mile wide.

?*We down our shots before grabbing each other’s rings and stuffing them in our pockets. “Come Fly With Me” by Michael Bublé starts playing over the speakers, and Theo and I take that as our cue to lock arms. The two of us walk down the red and gold aisle, giggling like school girls the entire way.

“Well, well, well,” Elvis, my new new best friend—sorry, Fern—says as we reach the alter. “Aren’t you two good-looking young men? You fellas ready to”—he moves his hips back and forth just like Elvis would have in Mama Catherine’s dreams, andohmygod wait until she hears Elvis married me, she’s going to be so excited!—“get hitched?”

Theo hiccups. “We sure are, Mr. Elvis Presley!”

?*“Perfect! Hit it, Fern.” The music changes to a soft version of Elvis’ “It’s Now or Never,” and he starts the service. Slowly, Theo and I thread our fingers together, and I can’t help but notice that I don’t feel even the teensiest, tiniest bit of nervousness or hesitation. And I mean sure, that could, maybe, possibly, have a little something to do with all the drinking but, if Mr. Jose Cuervo is what it took to get us here, I’ll be sure to send him our first Christmas card. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of”—Elvis looks up at the TV screen to our left where there’s a que of all the couples in line—“Theodore and Jackson.” Theo gently squeezes my hand. “This special occasion marks the beginning of their life as a married couple…”

Elvis continues to speak as Theo leans in to whisper something in my ear. And just as I think he’s going to say something sweet or romantic he says, “I thought Elvis was going to be better looking.”

I snort a laugh. Mr. Presley notices but doesn’t stop his speech. He’s getting paid regardless. “You know that this isn’t the real Elvis, right?”

This time Theo snorts. “Yes. Wait… yeah I know he’s not the real Elvis.”

“You may now face each other,” Mr. Elvis Presley says, and Theo and I do as he says. “Do you, Jackson, take Theodore to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

“Yup! Sure do!” I announce, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“And do you, Theodore, take Jackson to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in?—”

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