by Susan Wiggs
“No worries,” he said when she explained about the delay. “There’s nothing on the schedule until Friday night.”
“Thanks, Zach. Tell everyone I’ll see them on Tuesday.”
“Will do. Vegas, eh?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a day to explore the city. I’ve never been to Vegas before.”
“I’ve heard you can get into a lot of trouble there.”
She laughed. “We’ll do our best. Right now we’re working on getting a cab.”
“Okay. Well, don’t do anything too wild.”
“Moi? Never.”
Logan managed to corral a cab. They could have waited for a hotel shuttle, but it was sweltering hot, and Charlie was hungry and cranky.
In the taxi, Logan studied the voucher he’d been given by the airline. “Airporter Express,” he muttered, crumpling up the slip of paper. “You know what? I’ve got a better idea.”
“Now what?” She regarded him suspiciously.
“We’ve got one night in Vegas. We can do better than the Airporter Express.”
“I don’t understand.”
He leaned forward to the driver. “Take us to the Bellagio.”
“What’s the Bellagio?” Charlie asked.
“It’s kind of like Disneyland, only for grown-ups.”
Logan hadn’t been exaggerating. In fact, all the artifice of Disneyland dimmed in comparison to the incredible light show that was the Vegas strip. Charlie momentarily forgot his hunger as he stared out the window, slack-jawed with amazement.
“Hey, Momdad,” he said. “Look at all the people.” He pressed his face to the taxi window, watching street performers, winos, tourists and hookers against a backdrop of massive casino hotels. “What is this place?”
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Daisy said.
“Cool.”
“Does the hotel have a swimming pool?” Charlie asked, focusing on the only feature that mattered to him.
“I don’t know. Logan, is there a pool?”
Logan laughed. “Is there a pool?”
The Bellagio had much more than several pools. It also boasted a huge singing, dancing fountain that erupted in time with the music. They stood in front of the massive water feature, gaping like the tourists they were. People gathered at the figured concrete railing to watch. Logan bought hot dogs from a vendor for himself and Charlie, to hold them over until dinnertime. No fewer than three newlywed couples stopped for pictures. Daisy was not in work mode, but she appreciated the brides’ bubbly happiness and the way the water feature exemplified their soaring joy.
As one couple walked into the lobby ahead of them, she overheard the groom asking, “Now, what was your name again?”
“I want to wear my Mickey Mouse ears,” Charlie said. At Disneyland, a giant Mickey had shaken his hand. The ears had instantly become a sacred object to him.
“No problemo,” Logan said, and approached the front desk. While he registered, Daisy and Charlie explored the lobby. It was beautiful in an overly designed, aggressive way. There were fabulous art pieces, blown glass, paintings by old masters, sculptures in lit alcoves. Shops filled with sparkling jewelry, colorful fashions, sumptuous gifts, bags and luggage lined the hallway. The glittering artifice made Daisy feel as if she’d landed in some alternate universe. Faintly, behind everything, she could hear the sounds of the engine that drove the entire city—the electronic pings and burbles of the slot machines and games emanating from some unseen casino.
“It’s incredible,” she said to Logan in the elevator on the way up to their room. “I’m blown away.”
“Me, too,” said Charlie.
“We haven’t seen the room yet,” Logan pointed out.
It was on the top floor. Daisy held her breath as he opened it with the key card. He swung the door wide, and she gasped aloud. The room was flooded with sunlight filtered through the sheerest of drapes.
A balcony overlooked the heart of Vegas. There was a seating area with a bar and a wide-screen TV. The vast king-size bed was draped in rococo glory. Charlie raced to the window and pressed his nose against the glass. “I love Las Vegas,” he declared.
Laughing, Logan hoisted him up. “We’re going to make the most of our night here, okay?”
“Can we go swimming now?”
Logan nodded, and Charlie ran to his suitcase, digging for his swim trunks.
“I didn’t pack with this layover in mind,” Daisy said, retrieving his still-damp swimsuit from a plastic bag.
“It’s okay, Mom,” he said. “We’ll get wet in the pool, anyway.”
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “What’s worse than putting on a clammy bathing suit?”
“I have a great idea. You go down to the lobby shops and buy a new swimsuit. And a dress, too. Buy a really nice dress for tonight.”
“Oh. I don’t think—”
“Come on, humor me. Look, they gave me a twenty-percent-off coupon at one of the lobby boutiques when I checked in.”
“I don’t need—”
“Go for it, Daisy. It’d make me happy. Charlie and I will meet you at the pool.”
“Way to twist my arm,” she said. “I’ll make it quick.”
The shop with the coupon was called Lola’s, and the sign in the window bore the slogan, Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets. The collection leaned toward tropical prints, gold lamé and plus sizes. The only other person around was the woman at the counter, who was middle-aged with skin that had seen too much sun, and her hair was dyed, fried and flipped to the side in a style that had gone out of fashion in the eighties.
“Welcome to Lola’s,” she said in a smoker’s voice. She had a nice smile that didn’t quite mask a kind of loneliness Daisy could relate to.
“Er, I came in to see if there was a swimsuit,” she said, feeling a bit trapped by all the metallic fabrics.
“Ah. Your husband called me.”
“My husband—”
“Mr. O’Donnell. Suite 3347.”
Daisy immediately thought of Charlie. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. He wanted to make sure you get everything you need here, and that the bill goes to him.”
Logan loved making grand gestures like that.
The shopkeeper chuckled, gesturing at the crammed racks. “You’re a lucky woman. Go ahead, knock yourself out.”
“Thanks,” Daisy said, knowing now she would never get out of Lola’s without buying something from the inventory of gypsy-colored garments. “So much to look at,” she said diplomatically. “I really just need a swimsuit.”
“Let me see what we have in your size. You’re a bit smaller and younger than my usual clients. I probably shouldn’t say that.” With expert precision, she snapped through a rack. “These might be the only two I have in a small.”
The options were a leopard-skin bikini and a shiny silver garment, more space suit than swimsuit. Daisy thought about her clammy red maillot and wished she’d settled for that.
She hadn’t said a word, but the woman read her mind. “Let me see if we have anything in the back in your size.”
Daisy contemplated making a break for it. How had a simple, single-layover flight home become so complicated?
Turning from a family of two into a family of three had its challenges, and she knew she would be discovering new ones every day. She reminded herself that it also had its rewards, and that was what she would stay focused on.
She flipped idly through the dresses to see if something jumped out at her. What did one wear to dinner in Vegas? Apparently, something made with feathers, metallic fabric or crushed velvet. A couple of the dresses had all three—a trifecta of bad taste.
She knew her suitcase would yield a more tempting option, even if that meant she had to iron something.
“Honey, I hit the jackpot, as we like to say in Sin City.” The shop lady emerged from her cramped back room with some garments draped over her forearm. “These are going to look fabulous on you.”
Daisy had already resigned herself to a mercy purchase, buying something for the sake of the saleslady, who was probably on commission. Smiling politely, she took the garments to the small curtained area in the corner.
“I don’t wear much white,” she said, shucking her jeans and tank top. “I’ve got a little boy who tends to get his grubby hands on everything—oh.”
She tugged the white tankini in place and stared at herself in the mirror.
“How is it?” the woman asked.
Daisy parted the curtain and went to check herself out in the three-way mirror. “I like it. I never thought I’d like a white swimsuit.”
“This one is lined to the hilt, so you don’t have to worry about it being see-through, wet or dry. I’ve always liked the look of a blonde in white. It’s very striking and classy.”
Daisy conceded the point. There were touches of gold, but only in the piping that edged the neckline of the suit.
“Great,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
“And try the dress. It’s by the same designer. She’s retro, but in a fun way, I think.”
The dress was also white, with a halter-style bodice and a full, floaty skirt. When Daisy stepped out, the woman clasped her hands in delight.
“It’s as pretty as I’d hoped. You look like Marilyn Monroe in that famous subway-grate shot. You can tell that dress was inspired by it.”
Even though Marilyn Monroe was from her grandmother’s era, Daisy was familiar with the iconic photo from The Seven Year Itch. The shot had made—no, defined—the career of photographer Sam Shaw. Even today, students of photography argued the pros and cons of having an entire body of work measured against a single famous image.
“Both pieces have been marked down,” said the woman. “They’re the last ones I have left.”
Daisy surrendered. “Then I’d better get both.”
“And these.” The woman offered a pair of gold-heeled sandals embellished with crystal beads. “Shoes make the outfit.”
The guys were already at the pool—one of the five Mediterranean-inspired pools—by the time Daisy made her purchases and joined them. Logan was swirling Charlie in circles as they both made motorboat sounds.
She located their stuff on a lounge chair and shrugged out of her terry-cloth robe. When Logan spotted her, he froze as if the pool water had turned to ice.
“Wow,” he said, saying much more with his eyes.
“Mom!” Charlie grinned up at her. “There you are. We’ve been waiting and waiting forever.”
She slipped into the pool, feeling a tiny bit self-conscious about the suit. “The water feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Totally good.” His eyelashes were spiked like the points of stars. He exuded happiness, and suddenly she was glad about the forced layover. He constantly reminded her that every day offered a new adventure.
Logan’s gaze kept lingering on Daisy, and the heat in his eyes awakened another sort of reminder—she finally got to have a sex life. She’d been deprived for too long.
A flush of warmth coursed through her, and she dived beneath the surface of the clear water. The three of them played and splashed each other, lost in the pleasure of the unexpected vacation.
After a while, Charlie’s attention meandered to a group of kids about his age, darting in and out of the gushing fountain in the shallow end.
“Can I go?” he asked.
“Sure,” Logan said before Daisy could reply. “Your mom and I will keep an eye on you.”
“Did you put sunscreen on him?” Daisy asked.
“Of course. The waterproof stuff in the blue bottle.”
“Thanks. Sorry to be such a mother hen.”
“Believe me, I don’t want him getting burned, either. He’d fry like an egg in the sun.” Logan leaned down, indicating his shoulder. “See the scarring there? It’s from soccer camp when I was in sixth grade. I was on the no-shirt team, and I fried. Blistered, too, and puked all night from sun exposure.”
“Poor guy.” She bobbed up in the water and kissed his shoulders, first one and then the other. He was as handsome as ever, an Irish hunk. He’d grown husky, but it looked good on him, making him seem more substantial and mature, somehow.
Charlie had already joined in a game of keep-away with a beach ball and was in the thick of things, laughing and yelling as he lunged for the ball.
“He’s great with other kids,” Daisy observed. “I’m really proud of him for that. He used to be shy.”
“He’s getting over it.”
She hesitated. “I think he’s become more self-confident and independent since you and I got together.”
Logan smiled hugely. “Yeah?”
“You’re good for him. For us.”
“Yeah, likewise.” He slid his arm around her.
“Charlie is growing up so fast,” Daisy observed. “And listen to me. I do sound like a mother hen, one with an empty nest. I’m too young to be an empty nester.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “Then don’t be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was almost afraid to hear his answer.
“Wait here a second.” He hoisted himself out of the pool and went to the lounge chairs where their things were stashed. He returned a moment later with a glossy trifold brochure. “I was wondering if you had any plans tonight.”
“What did you have in mind?”
His hand seemed to tremble a little as he showed her the brochure. “How about we get married?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You heard me.” He took both her hands in his, right there, waist-deep in pool water. “Look, I’m not going to go down on one knee and ask you. I tried that once, and we both know how it turned out. My feelings haven’t changed, though. I still want to make a life with you and Charlie. I’m no Julian. I’m no GI Joe out saving the world. But I’m the guy who’s been there from day one, and I don’t plan on going anywhere else.”
Her heart sped up. Really? Was he really saying this?
Every word he’d said was true. From the moment she’d told him she was pregnant—fully expecting him to deny responsibility and turn his back on her—he had been a steady presence in her and Charlie’s lives. The day Charlie was born, Logan had brought her a pizza in the hospital and vowed he’d always be there for their son. So far, he’d kept his promise.
“But…marriage?” She backed up against the pool’s edge, poised to hoist herself out of the water.
She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Logan said, “The Always and Forever Wedding Chapel is booked for six o’clock, followed by the best table at Le Cirque for the three of us.”
“When did you do all this?”
“I bought the ‘Romantic Impulse’ bridal package at check-in. Including a pair of rings from the lobby jeweler.”
She hesitated, half in and half out of the pool. Could he be serious? The notion made her feel…strange. Strangely happy. But…outmaneuvered.
On the other hand, without Logan, where would she be? Drifting, alone, in love with a ghost, unable to let go of memories. That wasn’t healthy for her or Charlie.
One more heartbeat of hesitation passed. Then she lowered herself back into the water. With a laugh of abandon, she splashed Logan. “You’re crazy,” she said.
“Dearly beloved…”
Daisy stood in her Marilyn Monroe–style dress beside a slicked-down and surprisingly nervous Logan, while Charlie sat nearby in a molded plastic chair and looked on, agog. She had been given a bouquet of small pink daphnes, and the strong scent tickled her nose. Canned organ music emanated from speakers hidden behind the fake gilt-and-marble columns lining the Always and Forever chapel. Between the notes, the sound of traffic from the Vegas strip could be heard.
The officiant was a young Asian man named Mr. Lee, who seemed to take his duties seriously. He read in mild, even tones from a pamphlet marked “Short Version.”
Short. In a matter of minutes, she would be pron
ounced Mrs. Logan O’Donnell.
They faced each other, holding hands, and repeated their vows after the officiant. Despite the circumstances, the vows felt weighty and real.
Daisy could scarcely believe she’d agreed to the plan. On the one hand, doing this felt like the ultimate impulse. Married in Vegas? Seriously?
In a strange way, it felt inevitable. She and Logan had every reason to marry. They’d known each other forever and wanted to give Charlie a traditional family. They’d already committed to moving in together. This was part of the natural progression of things. Wasn’t it?
While getting ready for the ceremony, she’d had a twinge of conscience. She had been tempted to call her mother and Sonnet, to get their blessing, and maybe to be told that this reckless impulse was bound to lead to something good. But she didn’t call them. She wanted to feel confident in making this decision, uninfluenced by anyone.
And, okay, she didn’t want them to blast her for cheating them out of the chance to put on a wedding for her. Sure, it would have been fun, but this was about her future, not about a one-day event.
It was a leap of faith, and she had to trust that marrying Logan would work out. In her experience, leaps of faith often did.
Of course, those that didn’t were usually termed mistakes.
“Daisy…” Logan gave her hand a squeeze, prompting her to speak.
“Oh, sorry.” She mentally regrouped. “Uh, yes. I do.”
The matching bands Logan had bought were very pretty, gold etched with a Florentine texture. When he’d shown them to her earlier, she’d tried hers on. “It fits perfectly.”
“I didn’t think your ring size had changed since…” His voice had trailed off.
They both realized it probably wasn’t the best idea to bring up that long-ago failed proposal, not now. It seemed so distant, something that had happened to a different person in a different life.
Now the new golden band glided onto her finger as Logan repeated the traditional vows. Daisy did the same, her hands trembling with the import of the symbolic act. From the corner of her eye, she could see Charlie fidgeting in his chair and swinging his feet.