Page 21 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

Worth looks up and meets my eyes as he stalks back to me.

“You got caught,” I say.

He shrugs. “What are they going to do, arrest me for stealing water?”

“Borrowing,” I correct him.

“Exactly. We can bring it back the day after the wedding.”

When we get back in the car, he hands me the bottle and I tuck it into the pocket in the back of the front seat. It’s not a great option for borrowed, but at least we have something.

“Let’s do the Vegas sign now,” he says to the driver. “We need to up our game.”

When we reach the sign, we hop out of the car.

“I’ll take your picture,” he says, pulling out his phone. I adjust the collar of my shirt, hoping it’s straight, then hold my arms outstretched. He pushes his Wayfarers to the top of his head and holds up his phone.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he says as he takes the pictures.

My stomach rises and falls and I don’t know what to say. But again, he’s not looking for a response.

“Now your turn,” I say as he lowers his sunglasses.

He shakes his head, slings his arm around my shoulders, turns us, and holds out the phone for a selfie.

I stare at the still image he’s just captured.

We both look so happy. He looks so gorgeous, anyone would think he was a movie star or a model or something.

“Come on,” he says, scooping up my hand and pulling me into the car. “Next stop.”

“Do you think we need to get someone to loan us something?” I ask as we pull back out onto the street. “Or do we buy something and loan it to Leo and Jules?”

“Either would qualify. What could we buy for a hundred dollars?” he asks.

“What about the necklace you gave us,” I suggest. “I could loan her that. It’s the most expensive thing I own. But she does already have one exactly the same.”

A smile curls around his lips at my lame suggestion, and I have the urge to press my fingers against his mouth, feeling the way it moves under my touch.

“Is she looking for expensive or thoughtful?” he asks. “Meaningful?”

“I don’t have anything with me.” I have a trinket box at home with things inside that might have qualified: a shell I found by the lake the first summer we went to the cabin, a small ceramic duck I took into all my exams in college, and the silver dollar coin my dad gave me on my sixth birthday. He told me it was magic. For years, when Dad went away, I’d take the silver dollar everywhere I went. I’d turn it over and over in my hand, thinking of my father working hard for us, sacrificing his time with us so we could have the life he wanted for us.

But it was all a lie.

That dollar has the Statue of Liberty on one side, her hand thrust in the air. On the other side is etched a boat with the words, “The Love of Liberty Brought us Here.”

That coin wasn’t magic—it was an excuse. It was a symbol of his worship of liberty and freedom. But he didn’t want freedom from governmental tyranny. He wanted to live free from responsibility and loyalty. He twisted what should be great to fit his selfishness and cowardice.

“You okay?” Worth slips his hand over mine, and I nod.

“Did you get bad news in Cincinnati?”

His question takes the breath from my lungs, and I snap my head around to look at him sitting across from me in the car. The colors and sounds of the Strip are shut out, and all I can think about is how Worth is inside my head.

“I don’t—I can’t—I have—yes,” I say finally. “I got some bad news. But I don’t want Jules to know,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to take the attention away from her and Leo’s weekend.”

“So you haven’t told her. And she won’t hear it from me.”

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