“I don’t know, Freckles,” he says, leading us through the hotel to the bank of elevators. “I think even Kathleen wanted to fuck you.”
I punch his arm and climb into the elevator, smiling at the little old lady in the corner watching us.
“You two look like newlyweds.”
I laugh and open my mouth to correct her, but Gabe throws an arm around my shoulder and kisses me on the cheek. “Yep. Married just last night by The King himself.”
I laugh at him—half in astonishment and half because the idea doesn’t seem all that ridiculous.
She claps her frail tiny hands together. “Oh, bless. You know my husband and I got married here?”
“No way,” I say.
She nods, and her smile is so wide it transforms her face. “Today is our seventy-third anniversary. I come back to this hotel where we met every year just to celebrate our day.”
“Wow.”
“That’s a long time,” Gabe says.
“Well, it would have been if I hadn’t caught him with a hooker and shot him fifty years ago.”
My mouth drops open and the elevator dings signaling our first stop. The woman shuffles to the exit and sticks out her cane to keep the doors from closing on her as she turns. “You two will last the test of time. I can already tell.”
“You think?” Gabe asks.
“Mhmm. It’s in the way you look at one another. Have fun, love birds, these will be the best years of your lives. And you, dear boy”—she points a boney finger at Gabe— “always remember she’s right. Doesn’t matter what she did. A woman is always right.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And no hookers.” She gives a tinkling wave with that menacing smile. The doors close between us, and Gabe and I burst into laughter.
“What the hell?”
“Damn, Freckles. We were just in the presence of a straight up gangster granny.”
“Do you think she really killed her husband?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m starting to rethink that pact of ours. Maybe marriage just isn’t for us.”
“Yeah, well, just don’t sleep with hookers and then no one gets shot.”
“No hookers. Got it.” Gabe tightens his arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple. The elevator doors open, and we step into the hall, my arm around his waist and his around my shoulder all the way to our hotel room. He pulls away to fish the keycard out of his wallet and holds the door wide, gesturing for me to go first. “M’lady.”
“Husband.” I make mock kissy faces at him and walk backward, flopping down on the king-size bed. “God. Who knew posing in your lingerie would be so damn exhausting?”
“You wanna order in?”
“No,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “We should go out.”
“Good. ’Cause I already got us tickets.”
“Tickets to what?”
He pulls two tickets out of his wallet and waves them in front of my face. “The Knights are playing St. Louis.”
“Get the fuck out!” I screech.
“Only the best for my wifey.”