“You’re in luck, Mrs. Bateman. I have an opening for a sex slave.”
“After what you just did to me in there, I would gladly volunteer for that position, Mr. Bateman.”
“We’ll find you a job here doing something you’re passionate about,” I said seriously.
“I’m passionate about you, and I’d like to do you over and over again.”
“Then, it’s settled. Sex slave it is.”
“But seriously, though, I don’t want to be dependent. I would literally be mooching off of your ass money.”
“Seeing as though I’ll be claiming your ass later, sounds like that’s only fair. An ass for an ass.”
Epilogue
AUBREY
VEGAS – ONE YEAR LATER
Chance and I stood at the door of the little white chapel, home to our fake wedding over three years ago. Goosebumps peppered my skin because it all seemed just like yesterday. Being here was nostalgic and at the same time, made me a little sad for the years that we lost in between.
With her red frizzy hair and over the top multi-colored smock, Zelda looked almost exactly the same as I remembered her.
She squinted her eyes and looked right at Chance. “Haven’t you been in here before?”
He beamed. Returning here had been his idea. “Very perceptive. This time we have an appointment. It’s under Bateman. Six o’clock,” Chance said, lifting up the piece of paper. “And an actual marriage license. We’re doing the real deal this time.”
She snapped her finger. “That’s right. You’re the Aussie guy…those vows…how could I forget? I should have known that you two were for real. One of the few couples I actually wondered about after they left. What took you so long?”
“Eh, hit a few bumps during the rest of our road trip. But we landed on our feet, didn’t we, Princess?”
Hearing him say that was bittersweet. Anytime I thought about the two years we were apart, it made me incredibly sad. He looked down at me with adoring eyes. God, how did I get so lucky to find a man who loved me so hard?
“Are you ready to get started?” she asked.
“Yes.” I smiled, still looking up into Chance’s number thirteen blues.
Adele and her boyfriend Harry were with us to serve as witnesses. Since we drove, we brought Pixy along. He was the honorary best man.
Already decked out in a dress of my choice, I’d come prepared this time. Chance looked incredibly sexy in a white linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves and dress pants that hugged his gorgeous ass—the ass that still helped support us to this day. I’d given up my law career for a much more fulfilling job running the local animal shelter in Hermosa Beach. The pay was crap, but I looked forward to getting up and being with the animals every day and never dreaded going into work. Chance still made a good living off royalties from his soccer-model career but also opened up his own landscaping business with a full staff of employees. He still dabbled in junk art on the side.
As I made my way down the aisle, the song that Chance had chosen caught me off guard: The Long and Winding Road by the Beatles. It was unconventional, but the meaning was completely perfect for us.
You’d think after all this time, I wouldn’t have been nervous, but my hands were shaking as the ceremony started. It was no different than our first go round here.
Elvis spoke, “If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
As if on cue, Pixy let out a long “Baaaaaa.”
Chance turned around and joked, “You would stir up trouble right now, wouldn’t you, Bugger?”
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
Adele spoke from behind me, “I do.” She and I had become like sisters to each other. I was grateful for my new family.
It touched me when Chance took my hands in his and said, “I wish Mum could have met you.”
Elvis interrupted our private moment. “Will you be using standard vows, or do you have your own?”
We answered at the same exact time.
“Standard,” Chance said while I spoke over him, “I have my own.”
He looked stunned as he leaned in and whispered, “Princess, you wrote vows? I just wanted to be officially married to you as fast as possible. I was gonna forego them this time.”
Nodding, I said, “It’s my turn. I have something to say.”
When Chance got through repeating after Elvis, I cleared my throat.
How could I possibly put into words what he meant to me?