Butterflies fly around in my belly. I’m excited. I’m nervous. I have doubts. Sure, the few days we have spent together have been amazing, and I’m not having doubts on my end. I’m having doubts on his. I’m afraid he’s going to wake up and wonder what the hell he did. The death of my mom and his dad brought us together, but what happens when that pain subsides? What happens when we aren’t leaning on each other for support and to feel good?
For me, there is more with Rowan. Always has been, always will be. He is my other half. I’ve known that my entire life, but has he?
What if I’m not what he wants when he wakes up tomorrow, married to me. What if he regrets it? My heart would shatter, again. He is the only one I know that can completely disassemble me and put me back together. It isn’t fair. Rowan is my life force. When we are good, my quality of life skyrockets. When we are apart and arguing, I’m hooked up to life support, barely breathing. I can’t expand my lungs fully until he is around.
I’m invested.
I’m enthralled.
I’m obsessed.
I don’t know how to break the cycle. And the worst part is, I don’t know if I want to. I want to be completely consumed by Rowan Michaels, forever.
My addiction.
My habit.
My reason for being.
Is it sad? Pathetic? Desperate? To love someone so much it completely changes everything I’ve ever believed and wanted? Maybe, but happiness is key. And Rowan is my key.
Chapter 25 Rowan
We get a chartered, exclusive helicopter straight from the airport to a hotel in Las Vegas. As we get out of the helicopter, the hot air already makes me start to sweat, but I love the heat. Everly looks around to see all the tall buildings, lights, and vast amounts of desert. She spins slowly, mouth agape, the lights sparkling in her eyes.
“I’ve never seen something look so big,” she marvels in awe.
I pout and run my hands down my shirt. “Well, that’s just insulting.”
She pushes my chest playfully, and I smile, holding onto her hand and twirling her around in a circle. Her smile is infectious. “You know what I mean, Rowan!”
“I know.” I kiss her forehead and wrap my arm around her waist. “Let’s go get checked in, and then we will hit the town, paint it red, fuck shit up, whatever you want to do. I’ll do it.”
“I’m hungry,” she says.
“You’re going to break my billionaire status just because of your appetite.”
“Better start investing that money now, then,” Everly shrugs her shoulders, as if she doesn’t care.
“Feeding you is an investment,” I laugh, guiding her toward the elevator from the helicopter pad.
She crinkles her nose, and it causes her freckles to hide. I bop her nose, and her face relaxes again. There they are. “Are we staying here?”
“No. We are staying somewhere bigger, better.”
“Better than a place with its own landing pad?” she asks with disbelief.
“Oh, yeah. Only the best for me and my girl.”
The smile she gives me is so blinding; all of her teeth show, and that little dent in her chin gets a little deeper again. I have this weird urge to lick it. I want to lick all of her. I’ll do it later, that’s for sure.
“Where are we going?”
“Well, I was thinking we could get a drink, walk the strip, visit the hotels you want, and you pick,” I offer, pulling my wallet out to tip the bellman that is stuck on the elevator, waiting for people like us to fly in and go out on the town. I slide him a few hundred bucks, shake his hand, and say thank you.
When the elevators doors open, a huge lobby comes to view with a large marble floor and high, painted ceilings. She spins around, just like the small-town girl that she is, taking in the city. I’ve always loved her outlook on life. She always appreciates what she sees. Everything is beautiful to her.
“This place is massive,” she says. Everly’s eyes dart everywhere, taking it all in.
“Let’s go. The night is young, and I want to take you everywhere.”
She holds her hand out, silently asking for me to take it. “Let’s go. Show me your wicked ways.”
As we stroll down the strip, a few places come into view — the Bellagio, the Venetian, Caesar’s Palace. The sun goes down, and the lights of all the hotels and casino light up the night. Dancers, singers, and Elvis impersonators walk by in their bedazzled outfits and fake wigs, but some of them seem to have a nice set of hair, jet-black and slicked back.
Everly loves it. She has no idea where to look. Every time she looks at me, she doesn’t notice all the other men looking at her, but her emeralds are only for me. I smirk at the guys as they walk by. This sassy little siren is all mine.
But one’s eyes linger a bit longer, and his hand reaches for her. She tries to pull away, but he tightens his hold on her, causing her to jerk back, and her hand leaves mine.
“Let go of me!” she screams.
“Oh, come on, sugar. We are all here for a good time,” the man laughs coarsely. He reeks of sweat and alcohol. He knows nothing about boundaries, apparently.
I grab his wrist and press two fingers against a pressure point, turn his wrist up, and yank it behind his back. “I should fucking kill you for touching her,” I growl.
“Rowan, let’s go.” The fear in her voice only causes me to tighten my hold.
The stranger cries out and tries to arch his back away from me. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry.”
A crowd of onlookers stop and stare. Women have their hands over their mouths, muttering, and men are assessing the situation, wondering if they need to jump in. Testosterone, it
