“So… are you taking me home?” I asked.
“No… I was gonna drop you off here… make you hitch hike back to the city.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
Gravel crunched beneath the tires. The car swung into the road and aimed back toward the direction from where we came. She buzzed the driver’s side window all the way down. Cold Midwestern air blew her hair in a tornado around her face. Her eyes lit up like diamonds. If we didn’t have headlights, they’d surely be bright enough to lead the way.
“Hey, Troy?” she asked. Her voice was so soft that I had to strain to hear it above the whipping wind.
“Yeah?”
“Are you serious about us?”
She was calm, but I wondered how big the storm was that brewed beneath the surface. I was sure now that I knew her. At least, a little bit. I’d have to save the ‘rich girl’ taunts and the jabs about her being privileged for the bedroom—only when I wanted to get her blood boiling—because she wasn’t either of those things.
“What do you mean? We talked about this already.”
She gave a shy nod and pressed down on the gas pedal. The car drifted into the passing lane and went around an old pickup like it was standing still. “I know,” she said. “It’s just… can I trust you?”
“That’s up for you to decided. But I’m here, and what you see is what you get.”
“I need to make sure we’re looking for the same things.”
“I get it,” I told her. I put a hand on her thigh and squeezed. “But you don’t have to think about that. I meant what I said. You’re not getting away from me.”
Riley ran her fingers down the bridge of her nose and settled back into her seat. She was trying to hide the relief that crossed her face, but I saw it. “Is that a promise?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
Riley
6 Months Later
“Are we really doing this?”
Troy looked around at the crowd of our drunken friends. “I think we just did.”
“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Our impromptu minister—and my boss at the design company—tipped his hat to us and stepped out of the scene.
There were hoots and hollers and cheers and swears. Some people laughed, and the office secretary shed a tear.
“You may now kiss the bride.” They launched into another round of laughing and clapping as Troy dipped me and planted a loving kiss on my lips right in the middle of Times Square. He tasted like tequila and chaos.
It all started about six hours ago in a bar on the Lower East Side. What began as a belated welcome party for Troy and I quickly devolved into a shot drinking contest between the two of us and a couple of the senior designers. When the others joined in, things kind of got out of hand.
I finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Fashion had always interested me, but I never knew how to get started in the industry. When an internship opened up with J. Harvin, I was quick to submit my application. Against all odds, as well as my own expectations, I got it.
Troy was in negotiations with the top MMA organization in the country. With his home gym’s blessing, he moved with me to New York so he could start training with one of the most respected teams around. All in all, we were happy as could be and falling more and more in love every day.
Anyway, after too many shots, Troy and I started to “trash talk” each other about who was more committed to the relationship. It was becoming a favorite past time of ours when we got drunk.
Well, one thing led to another and we landed on the topic of marriage. Without a sober soul around, there was no one to put a damper on the inevitable.
My boss, Paul, yelled out that he was ordained and had the legal authority to perform a marriage. Neither Troy, nor I, blinked. Once that was established, there was no slowing the train—so to speak.
Someone dug up an online marriage license, and then, it was off to the races. We even got a dress and designated members of our party as bridesmaids and groomsmen. Since we didn’t have rings, I gave him the bracelet I had on as a gift, and he gave me the chain he always wore around his neck.
After the “I dos” were said, Troy scooped my up and carried me to a waiting car for our ceremonial ride back to the apartment. I couldn’t have come up with a better wedding if I’d been given a thousand years to think of one.
My new husband hustled me across the lobby and into the waiting elevator. A young guy tried to step on with us, but when he saw the look Troy gave him, he wisely stepped back and decided to wait for the next one.
The doors hadn’t even closed before he jumped me. All night long he’d begged to get out of that tie and this was going to be his opportunity. The metal box lurched and we were sent upward toward our fifteenth-floor apartment. A few seconds into the ride, Troy reached out and punched the emergency stop button. Gears and pulleys ground to a halt and then everything was still.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to do it in an elevator?”
“Uh… no! I’ve never even thought about it.”
“You better start thinking like me,” he said, with a grin.
“You’re kidding me, right? We’re just a few floors from our front door and the first time we have sex as newlyweds is going to be right here? C’mon, I bet our bed’s so warm.”
“Can’t wait that long,” he said. “You shouldn’t have looked at me that way when you said ‘I do.’”
“I-” but there was no use in continuing. It was decided already. “You’re gonna get me in trouble one day.”
“I hope so.”
Troy stepped forward and met me with a kiss. His nose brushed lightly against mine. A warm shiver rolled through me.
“That dress is beautiful,” he teased.
“Thanks,” I giggled. “It’s a Vera Wang.” Of course, it wasn’t. It was the first white garment we were able to come up with. Someone from our “bridal party” snagged it from an all-night drug store for twelve bucks while we were signing the paperwork.
Be it a brand-new Vera Wang, or a CVS special, it still came off the same way, and that’s all Troy cared about. He pulled it gently past my shoulders and over the points of my breasts, taking care not to tear it.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “it will look better pooled around your ankles.” He tugged it off my hips and let it fall the rest of the way.
“Hmm, always the smooth talker,” I said.