I make myself break away from the kiss, but Will doesn’t let me go. “I know you don’t know me well, Sandy. But there is one thing you should know about me. I don’t ever do something that I’m not completely sure of. Not even if I’m so drunk I can’t stand up. So know this, I know you, or I know you enough to be absolutely sure that this is the right thing, so we’re halfway there. And I’m willing to spend every day for the rest of our lives making sure you know every part of me,” he smirks, “especially the naughty bits. So we’ll go to brunch together and you can grill me over mimosas.”
His speech stirs something deep in my gut. His absolute confidence that this not a mistake, there’s something mesmerizing about it. “You don’t have to come with me. And how can you be so sure about a person after only twelve hours? This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. I was with someone for two years and it turns out that I didn’t really know him at all.”
There’s a stormy look in his eyes. “I would never do that to you.”
Will turns away, and I look down at the carpet. Once upon a time, Wyatt had sworn that too. I thought we would be together forever. So much for that. “As for real life,” he says, picking up a packet of papers from the table, “I’m afraid we’re legit.”
He hands the papers to me, even though I already know what they are. A freshly printed marriage license from the state of Nevada, with both of our names displayed prominently. And on one of the bottom lines, a scrawl that is unmistakably my signature, even if it’s a little messier than usual. “I don’t understand,” I say. “As much as you say you know me, you don’t. Not really. Why would you want to be married to a stranger? It’s easy to fix this.”
“I don’t want it fixed,” Will says simply.
“But why?”
The smile fades from his face, disappearing into something utterly sincere. “What do you feel when you look at me?” My eyes flicker to everything in the room but him, but everything reminds me of him, the unmade bed, the leftover food, his shirt still hanging off a chair.
“Sandy,” his fingers come gently under my chin and guide my face back to him. “What do you feel when you look at me?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m confused and anxious, but I’m still attracted to you.”
The faintest smile appears. “There’s something between us. We both knew it last night. This was always going to be more than just a one-night stand.” He pulls me in again, and I let him. His cheek presses against mine and his words are soft, comforting. “Forget about marriage for one second. Aside from that, I’m sure that I want to be with you. To have you know me, and for me to know you better. We both know that if I don’t come with you, you’ll disappear. Please, let me come with you. Let’s see where it goes before we end something that could be amazing.”
His words ease the knot of anxiety that had built up in my chest and I can breathe again. That I can do. Not a forever commitment. Not yet. Just seeing where it goes. Brunch. “Okay.”
4
The chic little restaurant where my friends and I have had breakfast the past few days is just a few blocks from Will’s hotel, but even this early, the Nevada sun is hot. I wish I had more comfortable shoes for the walk, but the dress that Will gave me is light and airy and keeps the heat from being too oppressive.
Before we left the hotel, Will asked that I still wear the ring, just to see how I feel about it. I agreed because the ring itself is gorgeous, and diamonds are, after all, a girl’s best friend. It shines so brightly in the desert sun that I’m convinced that everyone on the street is going to be blinded by it. I can’t stop glancing down at it, amazed that I like it so much. “You picked it,” Will says beside me, taking my hand. “I think it suits you, but it was entirely your choice.”
“I wish I remembered…” I say. I do wish that. I wish I remembered some of the happy frenzy that would have led to this strange situation. Then maybe I’d feel a little more joy instead of feeling mostly confused.
Will kisses my hand. “Maybe you will.”
“Maybe…”
He deftly changes the subject. “Are you flying home in coach?”
“Yes,” I say, making a face, and he laughs. “I’ll probably have someone leaning on me, mouth open, sleeping.”
“Well,” he says, a mischievous grin on his face, “I was going to offer to take you home on my private plane, if that’s something you’d be interested in. At the very least it’s better than being crammed into coach.”