Chasing Fate

by Rachael Brownell

  Opening my door, he welcomes us to Caesar's Palace. Jackson hands him the keys to his car, tells them we are checking in and that our bags are in the trunk. It's a full-service operation. They take care of everything for us. I’m liking Vegas so far.

  The dinging of the slot machines assaults my ears as we enter the casino. Looking left and right, my feet stop moving while I try to make a decision about where I want to start.

  "Head over there, stay in that bank of machines, and I'll find you after I check in," Jackson says.

  "Okay," I holler as I head toward the row of slots he pointed to.

  Pulling out my purse, I grab a few one dollar bills and slide them into the machine. Two spins later and I'm broke. Frowning at my machine, I reach back in my purse and pull out a twenty-dollar bill. This should last me a little bit longer. I hope.

  Sliding into the seat next to me, Jackson puts a twenty in his machine but doesn't say anything. I watch as he gets lucky over and over again while my twenty disappears rapidly. He adds another twenty to both our machines and we play for a while longer.

  "How are you so lucky?" I ask.

  "Honestly, it has nothing to do with me. Slots are a game of chance. Either your machine hits, or it doesn't. Want to try another machine?"

  "No. I like this game, I just want to win. I want one of those bonuses like you had. You hit big on that."

  "You do realize that we're playing nickel slots, right? Hitting it big meant that I won thirteen dollars, Jessa."

  "Seriously?"

  Hitting a button on his machine, Jackson's credits turn to a dollar amount. He's put forty dollars in his machine and he's sitting at fifty dollars right now. He's only won ten dollars but he has forty-two more than me. I'm broke.

  After playing a few more minutes, Jackson says, "Let's cash out, head up to the room, freshen up, and go for a walk." Our machines print out tickets. Mine says fifteen cents. His says fifty dollars and forty cents. Damn him!

  The honeymoon suite.

  "We're staying in the honeymoon suite. Why? We aren't even married yet."

  "This is one of the nicest rooms in the hotel. Enjoy it," he replies, opening the door.

  Okay. He has a point. Married or not, I can enjoy this room.

  Our bags are waiting just inside the door for us as well as a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. Did he tell the front desk we were married or is this complimentary with the room? Who cares? I enjoy champagne almost as much as I love white wine. Almost.

  Jackson pops the cork while I freshen up in the bathroom that's as big as a bedroom in a normal home. Creeping up behind me, he wraps his arms around my waist and sets my glass on the counter.

  "Have something on your mind?" I ask as he trails kisses up my neck to my earlobe.

  "Maaaaaybe. Are you interested?"

  "If you keep kissing my neck like, that I could be persuaded."

  "Challenge accepted," he says sliding his arm under my legs, lifting me into his arms.

  Giggling, Jackson tosses me on the bed. Kicking his shoes off, he crawls onto the bed and up my body. I'm itching to get my clothes off. Why is he not undressing me? Why is he still wearing clothes? This isn't how things normally go.

  "Are you gonna lose the clothes or do I need to rip them off you?" I ask as his hips press against mine.

  "Nope. I wanna talk to you about something first."

  "Seriously!"

  "Yes. And since I have you right where I want you, vulnerable and trapped under my body, now seems like the perfect time."

  "You're using sex to get what you want, then."

  "Exactly."

  "Tease," I reply dryly. I'm not amused. My body is turned on and for the first time, he's not going to give me what I need.

  "Not exactly. After we talk, I'm going to take care of both of us."

  "Fine. Talk."

  "Let's get married."

  "What?" I'm staring at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. He's serious. His eyes are pleading with me to say yes. His lips are pursed as he tries to force himself to smile. Nervous. That's what he is.

  "Number seventeen."

  "What's that mean?"

  "Your list. My thing. Number seventeen."

  "Is what..."

  "Get married in Vegas."

  "Seriously? How did you even know we'd make it here?" I know the answer to my own question before he says it.

  "Because I added it to the list before I mapped out the rest of the trip."

  Thinking back, he added it to the list in Paris. Before he proposed. Before I said yes.

  "Paris," is all I manage to squeak out.

  "I know. I can see it on your face."

  "But how did you know?"

  "I didn't, but I hoped."

  "What if I had said no?"

  "Then I would have looked like an asshole. Thanks for saying yes. Can you try doing that again?"

  "Jackson, don't you think getting married now would be a bad idea?"

  "Actually, I think it's a great idea. That's why I asked. I love you. You love me. It's going to happen eventually, why wait?"

  "What about our families? What about Amber? She'll kill me if I do this without her."

  "Your father gave me his blessing, even after I told him what I had planned. Amber will be here tomorrow if you agree. She's our witness. My parents made me promise to record the entire thing and then have a huge reception later. Any other questions?"

  "You planned the entire thing? You made sure everyone knew except me and basically crossed your fingers, hoping I would agree."

  "Yep."

  "You amaze me, Jackson."

  "In a good way?"

  "Yes. In a good way. In the best ways possible."

  "Is that a yes?"

  "Yes, Jackson, I'll marry you. Just one thing, though."

  "What's that?"

  "Elvis cannot marry us."

  Laughing, he nods his head and explains the plans he made that are in motion as we speak. The honeymoon suite makes more sense now. The champagne. His excitement to get here. The fact that he was rather quiet about our need to stop here for the night.

  "So when is this thing gonna take place?" I ask, shifting beneath him. All this talk of getting married is starting to turn me on. I want to have sex with my fiancé before he becomes my husband.

  "Tomorrow night. Amber will be here in the morning to help you find a dress."

  "So there's still time to play husband and wife before we tie the knot?" I ask suggestively, smirking at him.

  "Yes dear," he replies, kissing me on each cheek and then the lips. "Anything for you."

  "If that's the case," I begin, tugging at his belt. "I have an idea of how you can start."

  Chapter 21

  #17 (Jackson) Get married in Vegas

  "Jessa!" Amber screams as she drops her bag and rushes to where I'm standing. Opening my arms up for a hug, I wait and brace myself for impact. The moment it happens, my knees go weak and I feel us begin to fall. There's nothing I can do to stop it, and I pray it doesn't hurt as badly as I know it's going to.

  As if it's happening in slow motion, I watch Amber's face change. Her mouth slowly morphs from an enthusiastic smile into a gaping hole of shock. Then I feel my ass hit the floor, bounce once, and get forced back onto the floor by Amber's weight. That wasn't as bad as I thought.

  Shit!

  Amber's upper body is still flying toward me still. I don't have enough time to brace myself. My arms are twisted up with hers. Closing my eyes, I let my body fall.

  "Jessa. Jessa!"

  Amber's voice is faint but growing louder. Opening my eyes, her face comes into focus. She's hovering over me as are two older men.

  "Talk to me. Are you okay?"

  "What?"

  "Jessa, are you okay? What hurts?"

  Pushing myself into a sitting position, I scan the area. People are staring at me. I'm at the airport. I was picking up Amber. She ran into me like a Mac truck, and we crashed int
o the floor.

  "I'm fine, I think," I reply.

  "You hit your head pretty hard," she says, a look of concern written all over her face.

  "Yeah, but I'm fine," I say, reaching out my hand so she can help me up.

  "I think you should stay put for a minute. Someone's on the way to check you out."

  "Amber," I say, deadpanning, "what can they do for me? I bumped my head. I'll be okay. Promise."

  Pursing her lips at me, Amber takes my hand and helps me off the ground. A wave of nausea washes over me, but I push through it. I can't let her see that I'm not as fine as I'm claiming to be. If she does, we'll never leave here. I'm getting married in less than eight hours. We don't have time for this.

  "Let's get your bags," I say, smiling at her for reassurance. She's not buying it, but she nods and takes me by the arm, leading the way.

  "Do me a favor," I say as we wait for her bag to come around.

  "What's that?"

  "Don't tell Jackson. He's excited about the wedding. I don't want to ruin today for him."

  "Jessa, I–"

  "Please, Amber. I'll tell him later."

  "Fine, but I don't like it. You went down like a limp noodle as soon as I touched you, and you took me with you."

  "I'm sorry," I say, closing my eyes and trying to remember exactly what happened.

  "If you had just let go of me, I could have caught you."

  That's not how I remember it. She slammed into me. She forced me to the ground. The weight of her impact made my knees give out, forcing us down. I wasn't even holding on to her, I don't think. My hands were tangled with her, that's all.

  No big deal. I'm starting to feel normal again. The haze that washed over me is clearing. My ass is a little sore, but that'll pass with time. I just need to make sure Jackson doesn't spank me tonight even though I want him to.

  "Ready?" Amber asks, standing in front of me with her suitcase.

  "As I'll ever be."

  "What about this one? It looked ugly on the rack, but I think I'll look good on you. You should try it on."

  She's right. It looks ugly as sin. I'm not a lace girl. Not to mention all the bling. It looks heavy with all the beads and pearls on it. Not my style, but neither were the last ten I tried on that looked like shit on me. We're running out of time.

  "Sure. Put it on the door while I grab one I saw earlier. We need to hurry."

  "You're lucky these are in your size. I wouldn't be able to buy a dress the same day I need to wear it."

  "That's because you're too thin," I yell through the rack of dresses in front of me."

  "Whatever you say, Mrs. McCall."

  "Not yet, but give me a few hours," I laugh, picturing the look on Amber's face. As I round the end of the rack, heading toward my fitting room, I'm not disappointed when she comes into view. Her hand is on her hip, and she's pursing her lips at me.

  "Not that one," she shrieks. "That's uglier than the one I just gave you. It doesn't even look like it has potential. And what's up with that color? Is that a rose pink or something? At this rate, we're never going to find you a dress."

  "I've been eying it since we walked in. I want to try it on. Humor me, please," I beg, closing the door behind us. "Plus, if nothing else, I'll let you take a pic and we can laugh about it later."

  "Deal!"

  Amber helps me step into the dress she picked out. It's snug. The lady that was helping–before Amber scared her off–said this was a mermaid style dress. The last one looked God awful on me, and this one isn't looking much better.

  "Nope," Amber says as I turn toward her. "I was wrong. It doesn't look good on you at all."

  "Help me get it off, then. I'll try on the other one, and if that one looks like crap, too, we'll go with the strapless one we set aside."

  "Are you sure?"

  "It looked nice, but I was hoping for something that wasn't expected. Jackson will expect me to have a traditional dress, probably strapless. I think that's why this one caught my eye. It's not white. It's not strapless," I explain as I slide my arms through the delicate straps, "and it's not full length."

  "And it's perfect," Amber whispers from behind me.

  Removing my hands from the top of my dress, I let them fall to my side as my jaw hits the floor. This is the dress. It hugs my hips, accenting the little bit of cleavage I have; the rose color accentuates my skin tone and doesn't wash me out, and the dress hits just below my knees. An untraditional dress for an untraditional wedding. It’s perfect is so many ways.

  Wrapping things up at the boutique, Amber and I head back to the hotel to change. Then, it's off to get my hair and makeup done. It's the best kind of girl’s day, with the best kind of ending.

  "You look amazing," Amber says as she helps me step into my shoes.

  "Thanks. You look great, too."

  "Are you nervous?"

  "Should I be?"

  "I think most people are when they're about to get married."

  "Oh. Well, I guess I am a little. I mean, I think I know what I'm getting into. We've been together practically every moment of the last few months. If there was something that I didn't like about him, I think I would have figured it out by now."

  "True. Plus, how romantic is he? Getting married on Valentine's Day, in Las Vegas. He's been planning this for weeks, and you had no idea. You're lucky, you know that?"

  Am I? Is the dying girl lucky that someone fell in love with her and she's going to destroy him in a few months when she dies? I'm not sure lucky is the word I would choose.

  "Yep, I sure am," I say, forcing a smile on my face. I promised myself that I wouldn't let the negative in today. It's my special day. No matter how long we're married, no matter how much time we have left together, today is about us. It's about the love we share for each other. We can deal with the details of our life together another time.

  "Alright, I think you're ready," Amber announces, fixing the hem of my dress before she stands to face me.

  "Let's do this!" I exclaim, ready for what happens next.

  Linking arms, we make our way out of the dressing room and to the entrance of the chapel. As we round the corner, I hear the music change. When I look up, my eyes meet Jackson's, and they're smiling at me. Happiness is radiating off him in waves.

  Maybe I am luckier than I think. Even one day spent married to this man will make my whole life worth so much more. He's made me happier in the last few months than I thought I ever could be. There are times I completely forget I'm dying when I'm with him. Not because he tries to make me forget, but because it's the last thing on my mind when I'm with him.

  He captivates my attention. We have fun together. There's nothing we cannot do. Everything is achievable. I've lived more with him than I ever did before we left for New York. I've done more, seen more, and wanted more out of life than I knew I possibly could.

  Now, the only thing I want is to live longer. I want to find a way to make that feasible, to achieve the impossible. I want to live for him, for us, for our future.

  Promising to love and cherish Jackson for the rest of my life is easy. The words "I do" flowed across my lips on a breath. When it came time for him to do the same, he paused. My chest tightened up and my breathing slowed down. The moment he said the words, it was if someone put defibrillator paddles on my chest and jump-started my heart.

  I'm married.

  To Jackson.

  My heart belongs to him now.

  My life is not my own anymore.

  I couldn't be happier if I tried.

  Since Amber is in town, Jackson and I decided to hang out with her after the wedding instead of heading back to our room. There will be plenty of time to consummate our marriage after she leaves. Again and again, if I have my way.

  We walk down the strip hand in hand, ducking in and out of casinos. I play a few slot machines, handing my money over every time. Jackson and Amber win the money I lose, plus some, so I make them buy all our drinks.

  As we appr
oach the Bellagio, the water show is in full swing so we stop and watch. It's amazing how the water moves to the music, perfectly in sync. My attention is focused on the water, each stream rising higher and higher in the air.

  One minute, I'm looking straight ahead. The next, I'm face down on the pavement.

  Did someone push me? Where's Jackson?

  "Jessa," I hear a man's voice call.

  "Are you okay?" a female asks.

  Rolling over and pushing myself into a sitting position, I stare at the people around me. No one looks familiar. The two who are talking to me look concerned more than the rest. After a few seconds, only the two are still staring at me.

  "Let me help you up, Jessa," the man says.

  "I'm fine," I say, brushing his hand away from my arm.

  "No, you're not. You're looking at me like you don't know me. Something is wrong. What's going on?" he asks.

  "She fell at the airport this afternoon," the woman says. "She hit her head pretty hard on the floor."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, his question directed at her.

  "She made me promise not to. She said she wanted to tell you tomorrow. She didn't want to ruin the wedding."

  "You should have told me. We need to get back to the hotel and get her to the hospital. I want them to check her out." Turning to face me, he says "Come on, Jessa. We need to get going. Let me help you up."

  "No. I don't know you. Either of you. I'm not going anywhere with you." Scooting back until I hit someone's legs, I put space between us.

  "Jessa," the woman says, squatting down so our eyes are on the same level. "I'm Amber, your best friend. This is Jackson, your husband. You got married a few hours ago. We know you and won't hurt you. I promise. You have to trust me. You hit your head really hard for the second time today, and we need to get you checked out. Will you please come with us?"

  "Look in your purse," he says. "There should be a room key. I have the same key."