Page 131 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

She turned to me, dead serious, and eyes full of glitter and tequila. “You wanna get married?”

I blinked. “Like...now?”

She nodded. “Yes, let’s do something ridiculous.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Okay.”

She let out a triumphant whoop, grabbed my hand, and yanked me across the street like a woman on a mission. The rest of the group shouted behind us, half cheering, half confused, but none of them stopped us.

And that’s how we ended up at Temu Elvis’s Chapel O’ Love. No, I’m not kidding. That was the actual name on the sign. There was even a banner that said, "Buy One, Get a Free Keychain!"

Elvis—an aging rocker with a crooked wig, bedazzled jumpsuit, and a surprisingly decent voice—welcomed us like we were his favorite act of the night.

The ceremony was chaos. Gabby kept interrupting to ask if Elvis would sing the vows. When he refused, she sang them herself,dramatically and off-key. I couldn’t stop laughing. Meanwhile, everyone we were with stood in a half-circle, swaying and belting outCan’t Help Falling in Lovelike it was group karaoke night at a county fair.

And when it was over, naturally, we had photos taken.

One of them—the one that kept flashing in my mind—was of Gabby riding piggyback on Elvis, slapping his rhinestone-covered ass while throwing a peace sign, and I was walking behind them like some bewildered flower boy, holding her bouquet.

I loved every damn second of it.

Now, lying on the hotel bed the next morning, wearing the silver band that had been slipped onto my finger during that absurd ceremony, I looked at it with something like awe. It wasn’t just a Vegas stunt to me. I wanted this. It was fast and messy and would definitely raise eyebrows, but it felt right.

I figured she’d freak out this morning—I'd expected it, in fact—and was ready to give her space to find her footing. But Gabby never did what anyone expected.

She lay there on the floor now, still tangled in her dress, arms flopped out like she was melting into the carpet.

I leaned over the edge of the bed cautiously. “You okay down there?”

She didn’t move much, just turned her head toward me. “I’ve been hunted, kidnapped, hidden, and now apparently married, all in a really short period.”

My stomach twisted. I didn’t know if this was the start of a breakdown or?—

“But,” she continued, “if all that shitty stuff led to this, to us being married—even if people say it’s too early—I can’t help but be grateful for the shitty parts because they brought me here.”

My chest ached in the best way. “You know everyone was egging us on, right? Ira and Gladys were practically dancing around the chapel. Said they wanted to share their anniversary with us. They stood in front of the door in case either of us got cold feet.”

Her eyes widened, then her whole face broke into a grin. “They did not.”

I nodded. “They did.”

She threw her arms in the air and screamed toward the ceiling, “I’m married, bitches!”

The walls were thick, but not that thick.

From the room next door, there was a loud bang on the wall, followed by Sasha’s voice yelling back, “I know. So am I!”

More laughter filtered through the wall, and then Elijah shouted, “What the hell was all that banging last night?”

I didn’t even miss a beat. “It was us.”

There was a silence so thick you could feel the eye contact happening through the walls.

Gabby groaned and buried her face in the rug. “Did you have to tell your brother and my cousin that? Was that really necessary?”

I grinned and shrugged. “They were jumping on the bed with us, remember? When you sang that song from the musical about getting married?”

She sat up, her expression caught somewhere between mortified and amused.

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