Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (22 page)

Lily was out and that probably counted
Marcus out, too. So, if we went ahead with the trip, it would most
likely be me and Evan. Alone. The whole weekend.

I made my way to the guest bedroom to break
the news. Everyone was supposed to stay over tonight since we
planned to leave early. Marcus hadn’t come back since he dropped
off Evan, who was spending the day doing his laundry and trying to
pack, though his duffle bags looked full.

He faced the opposite direction, hovering
over the bed, sorting clothes. I leaned on the doorframe, watching.
The sight was one I had no desire to see. Obviously, right now he
was planning to go away with me, but soon, he’d be going back to
work and my life would go back to the way it was. He and I had
talked about the imminent separation. We both agreed it would be
difficult but manageable. I’d been toying with the notion of
visiting, but was worried it may be awkward. There were often
groups of people gathered around the perimeter of the sets he
worked on. And, if we were still unhindered by public interest, it
might be too risky. Evan said I shouldn’t worry, but he was used to
people nosing around in his private business. He was supposed to
leave for two days in November, and in December he had some
promotional appearances scheduled. In between, he was going to be
working on something called ADR at a local studio. After that, he’d
start his next project. That was a sixteen-week shoot. I’d spent
hours trying not to think about it.

I walked in the room when Evan turned, heart
leaping as he looked at me with a subtle grin. It was as if I had
no choice, I had to touch him. I shoved him back and he plopped
onto the bed. I sat across his lap and stole a long kiss, raking my
hands through his hair, loving the feeling of his full, soft lips
on mine.

“Hello.” He raised an eyebrow.

I stiffened, utterly confused at my sudden
indiscretion—an impromptu make-out session—and said the first thing
that came to mind. “Bad news: Lily’s going to cancel. She has to
work.”

His face twisted into a smirk. “If this is
how you deliver bad news, I’d love to hear your take on the world
economy.”

“Do you think Marcus will still go?”

“I’m telling him the hotel caught fire.” He
stretched his hands around my waist, planting a row of kisses on my
neck.

Goosebumps plucked up all over both arms.
“Could be a mistake. Going without them, I mean.”

“Mistakes can be really fun, if made the
proper way.” His voice was smooth, his manner confident, forcing me
to smile back.

The sound of Caleb’s school bus barreling up
the hill gave me the out I needed. I hopped up, excusing myself and
the momentary lapse in judgment. Basically, running out with my
tail between my legs.

Evan’s humorous bellow followed me down the
hall. “Let me know if you’d like to discuss world hunger? The
health care crisis?”

October
31
^st

“I told you we left too early.” Evan
bragged, leaning against the counter in the huge hotel lobby.

“As if we’d have to wait for check-in
time.”

People could not wait to do things for Mr.
Fred Rubble, one of Evan’s pseudonyms. It was the actual name
printed on the credit card. The concierge escorted us to our
adjoining rooms, where we showered and changed before heading back
down to one of the restaurants.

The hotel was gorgeous. And massive. I lost
track of where we were going several times. We heard snippets of
conversation as we passed chatty groups of casino patrons, everyone
was buzzing about the weigh-ins later.

After way too much fruit salad and eggplant
parmesan, we wasted time wandering from one casino to the next,
doing a little gambling here and there, and shopping for souvenirs.
I bought a set of shot glasses for Evan to practice his game on.
And I am not sure how we got onto the subject, but somehow he roped
me into buying a costume and then presented the action as
challenge.

Evan’s smile was huge as he explained. “Two
rules. First, your costume has to be both, unique and cliché.
Second, we only get an hour. We’ll meet back in front of that
fountain,” he pointed down the wide corridor. We shook hands,
synchronized watches, and headed off in different directions.

No doubt, I was going to lose. Not only did
I lack the keen competitive edge that Evan had, there was zero
selection in women’s wear. Oh, there was a plethora of costumes,
but they all carried the same theme—slutty cops, slutty nurses,
slutty dancers, and easy mermaids. On my thirtieth trip around the
last store, I found the perfect costume buried in a discount
bin.

Fifty-eight minutes later, I was back at the
fountain. Evan showed up with a whole minute to spare, laughing at
my fluffy orange pumpkin suit. He was dressed in full Death Angel
garb, including black and white face makeup, a scythe, skintight
black bodysuit under an oversized, tattered cloak and for humor, a
really bad ‘70s porn-star mustache.

“
That’s not very unique.” I
admonished.

He shrugged. “Well, it was either this or a
giant banana and I’ve already got one of those.”

“Oh, brother,” I shook my head.

He stepped closer, taking the end of my
floppy pumpkin stalk hat and f lipped it away from my ear. “Gracie,
it’s huge.” He whispered.

I balked, my face heating as his breath
raised goosebumps all over my neck. I looked away, suddenly
uncomfortable.

“What?” He asked innocently. “I dressed as a
giant banana last year.” Then he smirked and took my hand.

We wandered into a small restaurant near the
front of the hotel. The tables were full, so we took an open space
at the back of the bar. Evan ordered drinks and appetizers while we
waited for a spot to open up.

Several rounds later, we were still there
and I was feeling light-headed.

“Have you ever thought of getting married
again?” He was staring at a television mounted behind me. His face,
painted to look like a skull, was cracking around his mouth.

“Why? Is there someone you want to set me up
with?” I giggled, finding myself much funnier than he did.

Evan ordered more drinks and fries with
gravy, and I knew I’d have to find the hotel gym in the
morning.

Everywhere around us, people were dressed in
a crazy variety of costumes—nuns, serial killers, showgirls,
boxers, demons, Presidents, and hundreds of slutty cops and
nurses—not a pumpkin in sight, but I did see a few reapers.

“We
are
in Las Vegas.”

My mind wandered back home. I wondered what
my boys were doing. Noah was probably filling up the candy bowl.
Caleb was most definitely in his costume by now. Both would be
snacking on the spoils made ready for the ten trick-or-treaters we
got each year.

“
Wait. What did you say?”

He shrugged. “You’re single and I’m single.
Give it a go, eh?”

“Sure, why not!” I chuckled at the repartee.
Until Evans expression lost its humor. Now he had my full
attention. “Tell me, seriously, are you kidding?” I swayed, ever so
slightly, setting my drink on the bar.

His brow furrowed. “How shall I put this?
You’re like air for me—I can’t be without you. Is that serious
enough?”

His words made no sense when he put them
together like that.

He smiled, coyly. “I can’t believe I’m
actually saying this with a horrible, itchy mustache glued to my
face—it was probably made from rat hair or something—but I am.”
Suddenly his face was serious and he was looking straight into my
eyes. “Marry me, Gracie, I swear I can make you happy.”

My head was swimming and I reminded myself
to breathe.

He leaned in close, “I am aware that my life
is a direct contrast to yours and we haven’t known one another
long—”

“Barely a month.”

“But we’ve spent every day together. You
know me. I trust you. I’m ready for this. I’m not scared, I’m not
worried, I simply want to make you mine. Right now. Today. I know
you love me as well. Is it enough to marry me?”

His voice was soft, with a deep tenor of
sincerity. I listened to every word; examined his expression, his
eyes especially. They were earnest, wide and glowing. I knew the
look. I’d seen and returned it for sixteen years. I kissed it
goodbye after his eyes closed and yet, as impossible as it seemed,
I was seeing it all over again.

“Do you love me more than anything or
anyone?” I asked.

Evan sighed. “Frustrating, that is. Lifes’
largest query looms unanswered as you respond with a damned
question. Are you aware how maddening that is?” The tension made
him sound irritated but I knew it was the excitement and not him.
“Do you understand what I’m asking? You’ve had three beers—you
aren’t drunk, are you?”

Hundreds of thoughts swirled in my head, but
I was hopelessly distracted by the look in his eyes and his
diction. There were certain words that Evan used—words like water,
premiere, and frustrating; especially frustrating—that, when
spoken, made his accent more pronounced. The way he mixed the
tenses of the words and exaggerated the long vowel sounds. They
sounded beautiful. I could not help but swoon.

He didn’t break the intense stare. I raised
an eyebrow, waiting.

“I wasn’t teasing when I said I wanted to
live with you. I’m hopelessly yours.”

That
was his
answer! The night of our first date, when I asked where he’d live
if he could choose anywhere in the world, he’d whispered two words.
“With you.” I thought I was hearing things. Dramatic, life-changing
things.

“Marriage is forever, through thick and
thin. Death before divorce.” I asserted, heart dancing in my chest.
Because I knew, as unexpected as the moment was, it was not on
impulse.

Evan hadn’t gotten where he was in life by
accident. His fame may have begun with an unexpected surge of
popularity in an Indie film, but the staying power came from him.
From his decision to capitalize on the moments he was given. No
matter how spontaneous this trip seemed, I had a sense that each
move he made was deliberate.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” His eyes
shone with sincerity. The cloak he was wearing reflected a gray
tone into them. When he put his head back, the lights hit them, and
then I saw the hazel.

“Okay.”

His mouth was open, as if he was preparing
an argument. But when he heard my response he paused and folded his
hands across his lap. “Could you elaborate, please?”

I supposed he needed a bit more assurance
than a simplistic, wide scope acceptance. But at that moment, I had
the strange sensation that I was sitting outside my body, watching
the whole scene unfold. It was glorious.

The waitress set a plate of fries and gravy
between us.

“Thank you very much,” I directed the
comment towards the woman without looking away. “Evan, you’re my
best friend. What else is there?”

The corners of his eyes fell a little
and he nodded his head. I sensed an apprehension that made me
wonder why he bothered asking if he was going to be so . . .
Oh crap
.

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

He leaned forward, examining my face. “This
isn’t the alcohol talking?”

“I am a little buzzed, but completely
lucid.” No matter if I had three drinks or thirty, the answer would
have been the same.

“So, it’s a yes?” His pasted mustache fell
from one side, revealing a gorgeous, silly smile that illuminated
everything in proximity.

“Yes!”

He jumped up, pressing his lips to
mine and overpowering my senses. In plain view inside the little,
packed sports bar.
Gawking eyes be
damned
, I imagined him saying. Nearly everyone in
there was dressed up like cartoon characters anyway, and we blended
right into the madness. His throaty laugh sounded through my lips
as I found myself jumping up and down.

“Can I get you anything else?” A flat voice
asked.

He reluctantly let go, turning towards the
waitress. Her irritation with our public display was
unmistakable.

“The check,” Evan said and bent to pick up
my pumpkin stalk hat.

The waitress walked off.

He turned back to me with a smirk. “She
didn’t like that.”

I laughed, covering my mouth to control the
volume. I wanted to scream. If it was a dream, I never wanted to
wake. Everyone loved him, especially me. And I couldn’t see any
reason to wait for something that would undoubtedly happen one day
down the road. This was the next logical step.

Evan reached into his pocket, then set a wad
of cash on the bar. Before I realized, there was a credit card in
my hand. “Meet me in the Grand Chapel in two hours. We’ll have a
real minister in a real church.”

I opened my mouth to object—I had my own
money—but he raised his hand, silencing me. “I have things to take
care of and you have to get ready.”

“When did you plan this?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m very
sneaky.”

“What about the weigh-in?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, love, but the only
naked guy you’ll be seeing tonight is me.”

He turned to leave. I grabbed his arm. If he
thought he was getting away that easily, he was mistaken. He
responded by praising me with his eyes, placing a sweet, small kiss
on the corner of my mouth.

“Two hours. Don’t be late, Mrs.
Matthews.”

His ring was a
classic, platinum band. I guessed at the size, having nothing
to go on except the memory of trying on one of Evan’s rings by the
sink in his bathroom. As luck would have it, that ring fit nicely
on my thumb and so did this one. I paid, then ran off to find
myself the perfect dress.