“We should get married while we’re here,” he blurts.
I glance around the small suite. “Umm, it’s kinda impersonal. And I’m pretty sure we need rings and an official person to, like, marry us and stuff.”
“You’re sooo funny. I mean while we’re in Chicago. Everyone’s here for Jackie’s birthday, and I don’t want a circus like Talon and Miller’s wedding. Just bing, bang, boom, done. Get it over with.”
“Aww, you’re sooo romantic.” Though I’m definitely not opposed to the idea. The sooner I get to call Jet my husband, the better. Hell, I really would marry him in this room right now if we could.
“It’s not the wedding I want. It’s the marriage.” Jet’s words are soft and a little unsure.
Jet being unsure in anything he says is his vulnerability slipping through.
I smile. “Let’s do it. I’ll need to fly my family out, and what about your people? Benji, Freya, Marty, Luce—”
Jet shakes his head. “Benji and Freya are doing a few talk show appearances for the band before the Europe tour kicks off, and Luce will be with them. But maybe we can try to live stream it for them.”
“That’s easy. Is there a waiting period or anything for marriage licensing? There’s so much to do, and—”
“There’s a lot to do.” Jet’s hand runs up my arm and lands on my chest. “But we’ll do it together.” After a soft kiss to my lips, he steps back. “I’ll get the marriage license info, you call your parents.”
It’s surprisingly easy to book a courthouse wedding. We just have to stop by the county clerk’s office to pick up the license today for a tomorrow wedding. It takes longer to book my family’s flights.
It makes us late to get to Jackie’s birthday party, but I’m sure we’ll be forgiven when we explain.
Shit. We have to actually explain.
“I have a brilliant idea,” I say to Jet when we’re in the car on the way.
“Is it as brilliant as my idea to get married tomorrow?”
“Even brillianter.”
“That’s not a word.”
I shrug. “Are you ready for it?”
“I don’t know, am I?”
“What if …” I start. “I just meet you tomorrow at the courthouse and you can tell all your brothers?” I’m joking. Mostly.
Jet laughs. “Are you seriously scared of them?”
I scoff. “Not at all,” I lie. “After a few death threats, they’ll be fine.” I hope. “And you know we’re somehow going to end up in a strip club by the end of the night.”
“Truth.”
“All right. Private room is booked at City Boys for tonight to celebrate,” Talon says.
I laugh and cock my eyebrow at Jet. “Told you.”
“Hello. We have a baby.” Noah points to Jackie. “Not taking her to a strip club.”
“Isn’t that why you hired a nanny?” Talon asks.
Matt laughs. “Ooh, I cannot wait until your son is born in a few months. Let’s see how many times you’re willing to leave him with a nanny.”
“Are you saying you’re not going to your own brother’s bachelor party?”
Talon’s going to make a great parent, because his guilting skills are on point.
“No, we’ll go,” Matt grumbles. “But just you wait.” Matt takes Jackie into his arms and cuddles her close.
I can’t wait for that to happen for us, but the reasons why Jet wants to wait are valid. His touring schedule for the next few years is going to be insane, and I want to be with him. The road is no place for a kid.
We have dinner at Matt and Noah’s and wait for Jackie to go to sleep and the nanny to show up before we head out.
I get by with only a few threats from the guys, warning me against hurting Jet. Words like shotguns and body bags are thrown around.
But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I’m marrying the man of my dreams, and the last thing I ever want to do is hurt him.
It doesn’t take long for Jet to get into the night. And by that, I mean, he is served countless drinks from the minute we step into the club.
That’s how we end up here hours later—where I can’t take my eyes off him as he spins around the pole in the group’s private room while the actual stripper watches on in amusement.
Matt stepped out to call and check on the baby, but Noah’s in the corner covering his eyes.
Ollie leans over to me. “Your future husband is drunk.”
He sure as fuck is.
The fluorescent lights make Jet’s smile brighter. His eyes are glassy, his face flushed, and he just radiates happy.
I did that. Not the alcohol. Me.
There isn’t a moment that goes by where I wonder what if anymore.
None of it matters now when, tomorrow, my lonely, Southern, sweet, and sarcastic rock star is going to be officially mine forever.
A song kicks in through the speakers of the room, one I don’t recognize, but Jet lets out a “Whoop. I love this song. Babe. Babe. Hey, babe. Get up here.”