Page 58 of Fire Me Up
Afew people glanced our way.
Gael’s cheeks went pinker. “Not immediately,” he told the bystanders. “Like in a few months or something. Again, I see how this was a confusing choice of a proposal location. I just thought it would look cool in the social media photos.”
“What if we did it right now?” I whispered, looking up at him. “I mean, we’re in Vegas. They do that, right? And your sisters are here, my brother. The FRMC guys. It’ll be a whole party.”
“What?” Gael asked, eyes widening.
Ikissed him again. “I don’t want to spend another minute not married to the man I love.”
His cheeks turned even pinker as he gathered me close and kissed me back, his intensity matching mine. Then he pulled back, his eyes scanning my face. “Okay. Okay, let’s do this!”
“Holy shit. We’re getting married?”
“We’re getting married!” he said, beaming down at me.
The reality of the Marriage License Bureau hit us like a bucket of cold water. The interior was fluorescent-lit and institutional, with all the romance of a DMV. A long line of couples snaked through the room—tourists in flashy clothes, locals in casual wear, everyone with the same mix of excitement and impatience on their faces.
“Well, this is anticlimactic,” I said as we took our place at the end of the line.
Gael squeezed my hand. “Worth the wait.”
Ileaned against him, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions. We were getting married. Me, Dylan Kim, the guy everyone said was too much, too intense, too needy—I’d found someone who wanted me forever. The thought was so overwhelming I could barely breathe.
“Hey.” Gael tilted my chin up, searching my face. “You having second thoughts?”
“No,” I said quickly, honestly. “Just... processing. This is real, right? You really want this? Want me? Forever?”
He threaded our fingers together, his gaze so steady and sure it anchored me. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I’m crazy about you, Dylan. Every chaotic, beautiful part of you.”
The certainty in his voice, the unwavering love in his eyes—it filled all the cracks and empty spaces inside me I’d been trying to patch for years. I opened my mouth to tell him this, to pour my heart out right there in the sterile government office, when a familiar voice cut through the background noise.
It was messy and imperfect and completely, utterly us.
“I love you,” I told him, not caring who heard or saw. “So fucking much.”
Gael’s smile softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way that made my heart flip. “Good thing you’re marrying me, then.”
The line inched forward, and I tucked myself against Gael’s side, my head resting on his shoulder. For once in my life,I didn’t feel too much or too intense or too anything. I just felt right where I belonged.
Epilogue
Gael
The neon lights of the Vegas strip blurred around us as I guided Dylan away from the Marriage License Bureau, his hand warm and solid in mine. My heart pounded against my ribs. We’d let Marisol, Liv, Lucas and the others know what we’d decided, and they were already waiting at the little 24-hour Elvis chapel three blocks away.
Dylan still had no idea what was coming—thought we were heading straight to the club after getting our license—but I’d been planning this for weeks, coordinating with everyone behind his back to make sure tonight was perfect. The white veil tucked into my back pocket crinkled slightly as we walked, and I suppressed a grin thinking about how it would look paired with my ridiculous pink booty shorts.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Dylan said, squeezing my hand. “Where are we going now? The club’s in the opposite direction.”
I tugged him around a corner, catching sight of the glowing chapel sign ahead. “Liv found us the perfect place.”
“Seriously?”
“I texted them while we were waiting in line. Everyone’s waiting inside.”
The doors swung open, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. The small chapel was packed with our friends and family, all dressed in various states of Vegas club-ready outfits. Liv and Marisol beamed at us from the front row, with Bacon sitting regally on Liv’s lap, a tiny white top hat perched between his ears. As we watched, he batted at it, knocking it sideways and immediately starting to chew on the brim. Even his parents stood in front, dabbing their eyes.
“How—” Dylan’s grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain. “How did you do this?”
