“Who’s Elvis?” she asks. “Never mind. Yay! I’m so excited! Please tell me we can have a big party to celebrate. I can totally help with it.”
“We definitely need a party,” Maeve agrees.
“Awesome.” Rach is running through the house, making me seasick. “Grams! Gramps! Dad and Maeve got married!”
We spend the next hour on the phone, calling all of the family and telling the story over and over again. No one is mad about us eloping. I thought maybe Maggie would be sad about it because she and Maeve are so close, but she was only excited, just like the others.
“Okay, that’s done.” I push Maeve back onto the bed after she tosses her phone aside. “Now, it’s time for me to make love to my wife.”
“Wow, I’m your wife.” She grins and cups my face. “You’re my husband. I’d rather not call you my hubby, if that’s okay with you.”
“Honey, you can call me whatever you want.” I nip at her bottom lip just as the room phone rings. “Damn it, will I ever get you naked?”
“It could be something important,” she points out and crawls to the side of the bed, retrieving the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Meyers speaking.”
She winks at me, and I grin like a loon.
“Oh, sure. Okay, I’ll let him know. Can it wait, or—? I see. Thanks.”
She places the phone back in its cradle and sighs.
“They have something for you at the front desk. She said you’re supposed to come down and get it.”
“Why can’t they just send it up?”
Maeve shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m not psychic. She said that it’s important, and you have to go down right away.”
“That’s weird. Since when does that even happen?”
“Maybe it’s perishable,” Maeve suggests. “Maybe someone sent food or flowers. That’s probably it. I bet my parents—or yours—sent something over in celebration.”
“You’re right.” I rub my hand over my face and then stare at my gorgeous bride for a minute. “You’re stunning.”
“I’m not even in a wedding dress,” she says with a laugh. “I guess jeans and a white blouse is the new wedding wear of the season. So chic.”
“I think you look great.” I crawl over and kiss her squarely on the mouth. “I’ll be back in five minutes. When I get here, I want you naked and ready for me.”
“That’s not how wedding night sex works,” she informs me. “Haven’t you seen movies?”
I laugh and walk toward the door. “I’ll see you in just a few.”
I shut the door behind me, then walk down the hallway, whistling. My life is as good as it gets. Sexy wife, great kid, awesome home. I don’t know why I’ve been so intent on this fight. On proving something to myself and the rest of the world.
Maybe it’s because Danny basically called me a pussy on national television.
Of course, we all know that I’m no pussy.
But the image of Danny with his hands on my daughter just played over and over in my head, and I know that I can’t let him get away with that.
I turn a corner toward the elevator and am suddenly struck on the back of the head, falling to the floor.
I’m in and out of consciousness as a blurry face stands over me, a bat in his hands.
“Fuck you,” he growls and hits me across the shoulders, kicks me in the stomach, and then strikes my head once more.
Everything goes black.
Chapter 18
~Maeve~
I’m married.
I stare at the monster rock on my finger and grin.
I didn’t expect to come to Vegas and get married pretty much the minute we landed. But what a fun surprise.
I’m also relieved that I talked with Hunter about how I’ve been feeling. I could see in his eyes that he didn’t mean to distance himself from me. He’s just so dedicated to winning this fight, it consumed him.
He more than made up for it.
I hurry into the bathroom and freshen up, trying to decide what I should put on for when Hunter gets back when the phone rings again.
“Did he forget something downstairs?” I wonder aloud.
I hurry over to answer.
“Hello?”
“This is the front desk. Is this Maeve, Hunter Meyer’s companion?”
“I’m his wife,” I reply with a frown.
“I’m sorry to inform you, but Mr. Meyers is being tended to by the EMTs on your floor at this time.”
I hang up, not needing to hear another word. I rush out of the room and run down the hall, coming to a halt when I see at least six men in uniform standing around Hunter.
“What happened?” I demand and rush to them, but someone holds me back. “What happened to him?”
“Who are you?” the one holding me asks.
“I’m his wife. Who hurt him?”
There’s blood. Too much blood.
“We don’t know,” he replies. “Another guest found him here, and we were called. We’re going to take him to the hospital.”