“I dread to think what we’re going to find when we get to the Chapel of Endless Love,” I say.
Sierra groans. “With a name like that, I bet we’re in for one hell of an awkward conversation.”
We turn left and start walking.
“They should have one called the Chapel of Regret,” I joke. “Just to make the tourists feel at home.”
“And one called the Chapel of Not Sure About This at All.”
“Don’t forget the chapel of it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Or, the little chapel of oh shit what have I done?”
“The chapel of we were bored of casinos.”
“How drunk were we last night?”
“How about the chapel of fuck it, we’re forty and single.”
“There should be a, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas chapel. Where the marriage only counts while you’re actually here.”
“Yeah. There should be one of those on every corner!” I laugh.
“Maybe I should move out here and start a branding company aimed at chapels.” Sierra giggles. “Instead of trying to sell the idea of eternal love, I’ll sell the idea of it being one of those things you just have to do in Vegas. Like playing blackjack even if you’ve never played before.”
“Or taking your assistant to a strip club, just because you can.”
“Or eating at McDonalds because the nice places won’t have you.”
Or seeing someone in a new light… I think but don’t say. What if that woman was right? What if Sierra and I do have a connection and we just didn’t know it until now? I tell myself I’m getting caught up in the Vegas mood again. I mean what did she base her theory on exactly? The fact that Sierra tripped and I didn’t let her face plant onto the ground? Surely, that doesn’t mean anything except being a vaguely decent human being.
“Earth to Chance.” Sierra laughs, pulling me out of my head.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was a million miles away there.” Wondering if last night was really the mistake, or if in fact, what we’re about to do is the mistake. Fucking hell, Chance, get a grip. Yesterday, you were pissed off because you had to drink shots and give up your work phone, and today you’re debating the merits of marrying your assistant in a drunken moment of stupidity.
Sierra points in front of her. “Look. The Chapel of Endless Love,” she says.
“Right,” I say. “Here we go. Prepare to become another statistic.”
“Sounds fun.” She grins.
We reach the building and I push the door open before I can let myself think any more about what we’re doing. We enter the chapel, stepping into a little recess. An open door shows the chapel itself. White ribbons decorate the pews and a cascading arch of white roses stands at the altar. At least, we chose one of the nicer places. Maybe we weren’t completely oblivious to our surroundings. Or maybe it was just random and we happened to glance up, see the sign, and think why not?
“Chance, Sierra, how’s married life treating you,” a woman says with a wide smile as she steps out of the main room of the chapel and into the little recess. “I wasn’t expecting you until much later.”
Sierra and I exchange another glance.
“You remember us?” Sierra asks.
“Of course!” The woman laughs. “Jane Kellerman? I officiated your wedding last night?”
“You seemed to be expecting us,” I say.
“Well, yes,” Jane replies, her smile slipping a little. “You said you’d be back today to pick up your certificate because you wanted to celebrate getting married and you were afraid you’d lose it.”
“Wait,” I say, a flash of hope going through me. “You mean we didn’t sign any of the paperwork and we’re not really married?”
Jane mistakes my hope for worry and she laughs and shakes her head. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s all official. You just left your copy here to collect. You must have had a really good celebration after you left here. You really don’t remember any of this?”
“Honestly, we don’t remember much of anything,” Sierra admits. “We don’t remember getting married. And we don’t remember why we thought for even a second that would be a good idea.”
Jane’s face falls. “You mean you don’t want to be married to each other?”
Sierra nods, blushing again. “Yeah. That’s exactly what we mean.”
Is her tone slightly sad or am I just imagining it? I’m probably imagining it and even if I’m not, she’s probably just doing it for Jane’s benefit. Somehow, it doesn’t seem right to be laughing and full of joy while you’re telling the woman who officiated your wedding that it was all just a big mistake.
“Come on through to my office. Let’s talk,” Jane says. She turns away from us and shouts, “Malcolm? Can you man the front desk for a bit, please? I need to take care of something.”
A man about the same age as Jane appears. He greets us with a wide smile and then he sees Jane’s expression and it fades slightly. “Is everything all right?” he asks.
“Not exactly,” I say. “We’re just trying to piece together last night.”
“That good a night huh?” Malcolm asks.
“Come with me,” Jane says, giving Malcolm a not so subtle look that tells him to stop asking questions.
He reads the look and shuts up, suddenly looking anywhere but at us.
Jane leads us through a door on her right and into her office. “Take a seat,” she says, pointing to two chairs opposite hers behind her desk.
We all sit down.
Jane looks at us. “So, was I right out there?” she asks. “You regret the marriage?”
We both nod.
Jane looks so confused and I have to find out why. “I’m sorry to be blunt, but running a chapel in Vegas, surely you get this a lot.”
“Less often than you might think,” Jane says. “A lot of the chapels here will marry anyone, no matter how drunk they are.
