What Happens In Vegas

by Anders, Tarrah

  PEYTON

  I told him that I can’t do this anymore.

  I said it was the distance and that I would be unable to make the move, that now wasn’t the right time.

  I said that we rushed into a relationship and that everything was moving too fast.

  I told him I needed time.

  I could tell that he wasn’t expecting this type of conversation, because of that, I tried to keep it as short and to the point as much as possible.

  It killed me.

  I had fallen hard for him. I loved him. No, I love him.

  But my friends were right. I let the emotions guide me and I just ran with it.

  I let the feeling of being with him, consume me, and that’s just not who I am. I let my heart guide me and not my mind. I don’t want to be the girl to move somewhere for a guy. It’s not that he’s not worth it, but I just can’t regardless of how much I care for him. Am I him when his ex moved to Miami?

  With my boss giving me the opportunity to lead a whole new office, that would be a great opportunity, but I love my job as it is. I don’t want to be an actual manager. I can’t handle the responsibility that could entail. At least not right now in my life. Perhaps, down the road.

  And while I turned down his offer, he understood.

  Then, the call to Max.

  That was harder than I thought it would be.

  Did I make the wrong decision? Should I have moved to Seattle, taken the job and followed my heart? It’s too late now, I made my choice, broke up with him and I can’t go back on it. He’s likely moved on by now, and I just have to accept that I likely ruined the single most important relationship that I’ve ever had.

  I fought crying until now, and here I sit, beside Quinn with a bowl of ice cream, wrapped in a blanket.

  She goes through the channels and settles on an episode of a reality show.

  “This will be good nonsense to watch, I think that most reality shows lack the substance to really get involved with too much, the plot is pretty basic.” She turns her head towards me and offers me a smile.

  “Sounds good to me,” I say, my voice lacking emotion before I shovel another spoonful of Chunky Monkey in my mouth.

  I’m not sure how long we sit there, but after several episodes and two-bathroom breaks, I’m ready to crawl into my bed.

  I haven’t touched my phone since ending the call with Max, but I’m tempted to check it, to see if he left me any messages.

  I decide against checking my phone and instead head straight to bed.

  * * *

  “Peyton!” Quinn calls from the other side of the door. “Peyton! You need to get up or else you’ll be late to work; don’t you have that event tonight?”

  I bolt up in bed and throw the covers off of me as I stumble around my bedroom in a haze.

  In the past two weeks, I’ve busted ass at work to stay busy and not think about Max. I’ve lived and breathed the projects that I have going on, and that includes the event that Max may have thrown my name into the hat for. My nights have involved copious amounts of ice cream and trash TV that I’m pretty sure that I’ve done a good mixture of keeping occupied.

  The event is tonight, and my nerves are skyrocketed.

  Would he be there?

  I haven’t heard from him since I broke up with him over the phone. I managed to file for the divorce that we should have gotten from the beginning and send him off the paperwork.

  Who were we kidding?

  That wasn’t a relationship that would last.

  That was a fun fling, spurred by a wild night in Vegas.

  I ran across the hall, in to the bathroom and in impeccable timing, was out the door ten minutes later, looking as if I hadn’t slept through my alarm and also looking like a million bucks in an emerald pencil skirt and white blouse.

  I walk briskly into the building and past all the cubicles to my office.

  I pick up all the paperwork for the event and begin with making the calls to put everything into place.

  Halfway through the day, I have my clipboard, a headset and all my notes. My assistant for the event has yet to show up.

  The event begins, and I do my best to keep to the outskirts of the party. I observe and where appropriate, I make sure items get replenished. Towards the end of the night, my boss approaches me with a smile on his face and a relaxed gait.

  “This is a remarkable event, I’m very proud of the work that you’ve done here,” he gently elbows me.

  “Thank you, sir. I enjoyed all of the ins and outs of what corporate events entail, it’s been a good learning process. A lot different from how the private personal parties are, that’s for sure,” I reply.

  “Are you sure that you want to pass on the Seattle office? Maybe take it over temporarily? I think your work here has been outstanding. You have a keen eye for the details and the clients are very happy.”

  “I think I would need a lot more experience, sir. With all due respect, I think that I would need a lot more event experience under my belt. While I know how to run the office, I think there is still so much more that I can learn there.”

  “You are remarkable, and I applaud how much thought you’ve put into my offer,” he commends.

  “Thank you.” I blush and look down at my clipboard to distract myself.

  For the remainder of the night, I walk around the outskirts of the event, observing the interactions between guests, the decorations and the food. I sign off with vendors and eventually make my way to my car in the parking garage underneath the building after a final walk through to make my way home.

  I collapse into bed immediately, my body melts into the mattress with my eyes shutting upon contact and the world going dark.

  Another day down, another day without Max.

  Something that I need to get used to.

  He was too good for me anyways.

  MAXWELL

  I can’t freaking believe it!

  How have things come to this?

  I guess the typical progression to the end of a marriage would be for a divorce, but I would have spoken to her if that was the path I had chosen. I admit I hadn’t been upfront with her and that she’s not aware of what I’ve been doing on my end about the new office location.

  She doesn’t know how close I am to closing on a deal, and she sure as hell isn’t aware of what I’m willing to do for her, despite my saying it when we first met and over several conversations.

  Why am I willing to move mountains to be with Peyton, when I wasn’t even close to doing anything of the sort for Marisa?

  What is it about her that makes her different from anyone else?

  Is it because she clearly doesn’t need me?

  Does that make me need her more?

  Or is it because I finally understand what love is?

  I shake my head and continue with stuffing a few shirts into my duffel bag. I don’t plan to take much, after all, I will need to come back in a week to downsize and sign paperwork for the condo. But I need to finalize the deal on the new property, and I want to do that in person for more than one reason.

  I look around my bedroom, wondering if I’ve left anything that I need behind, then figure to wing it. If I need anything, then I can buy it.

  I have places to be. And a woman to win over.

  * * *

  Nerves rattle as I put my car in park in front of her apartment building. I haven’t seen her in almost a month, and every single day has sucked. But now, I’m sitting outside of her house and my body is pulsing with the need, knowing that she is so close.

  I sit in my car longer than I need to be, my palms are sweating and my knee jumping with the nerves that I have with the anticipation of seeing her. I drove straight here and through the night, anxious to see her and anxious to be at my final destination. I likely look a mess, but there’s not time to freshen up, when I just want to get this part of my life back on track.

  Every few minutes, I glance up at her building.

&nb
sp; It’s a normal complex, brown in color and just a block building with rails and doors leading to the inside. Nothing about the complex screams to stick out, but to me it does, because of who is inside.

  My woman.

  My wife.

  With that last thought, I get out of the car and round to the trunk, grab my duffel bag and head towards her stairwell to her door on the second floor.

  I let my feet guide me up the stairs and to her door.

  Standing in front of it, my mind wanders, and I hesitate.

  Recalling the day that I stood in this very same place, with the nerves months ago. How things are different now.

  What if she doesn’t want me anymore?

  What if her divorce filing was what she wanted and I have no chance?

  I raise my hand and knock on her front door, eagerly waiting for her to answer the door.

  When the door swings open, I’m standing there, speechless as I take in her beauty.

  She looks absolutely breathtaking and comfortable in her pajamas with her hair up and it’s as if I haven’t seen her in months, when it’s only been weeks. Not one part of me feels like backing down. I will fight for this woman, and I will prove to her just how much that I love her.

  I love her.

  I really do love her.

  Chapter Twenty

  “This one time in Vegas, I was at the Bellagio when someone tried to rob it.”

  PEYTON

  The knock on the door in the middle of a Saturday afternoon surprises me. It’s not often that we have people knocking on our doors, unless one of us can’t find the keys.

  But, Quinn is passed out, likely hungover from last night in her room. And I’m lounging around in my flannel pajamas watching The Greatest Showman.

  I open the door, wary of who is on the other side and once I see him, my heart begins to pound.

  He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days, with dark circles under his eyes and his clothes are wrinkled. He has a bag thrown over his shoulder and gives me an exhausted smile as I open the door fully.

  “Hi,” I say, unsure of how else to greet him.

  “Hey,” he replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

  “What are you doing here, in LA?” I ask. I look to his feet and Scout is sitting patiently, wagging his tail, waiting to be acknowledged. “Hey Boy,” I smile before returning my gaze to Max.

  “Well, I’m here for you. For us.”

  I blink, unsure of what he’s talking about.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Can I come in?” he asks. “Can, we come in?” he motions to the dog as well.

  I move aside and he walks past me, with Scout trailing behind him. Even though, he looks crumpled, I smell his familiar scent and my memory comes back with the yearning to touch him.

  I refrain, and watch as he moves to the couch to sit down, and sets his bag on the floor, with scout turning in circles before settling beside his feet like a trusty companion. I sit at the opposite end of the couch and wait for him to start explaining why he’s here.

  “Max?” I prompt him after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

  “I love you,” he blurts out.

  When I open my mouth, he holds up his hand and continues on.

  “I love you and I am not going to let you go as easily,” he digs into the bag beside his feet and pulls out a large envelope to toss between us, “I’m not willing to sign the divorce papers, because I am in love with you and want to make us work. I will do anything to make us work.”

  “Max,” I begin. “I told you that I can’t move.”

  “That’s why I’m moving here. A month or two ago, I put into motion the plans to open an office here in Los Angeles. In fact, I will be signing the paperwork this week, to add the final touches on the contract for the lease and to begin holding interviews for staffing.”

  I shake my head, as if there’s water in my ear that is making me hear things.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I knew from the moment that we met, sober,” he winks, “that you would be the endgame for me. I want to be with you, here, where you are, and make a life for ourselves.”

  “Max, we don’t know if a real relationship will work.” I tell him, unsure of even what I’m telling him.

  “The relationship that we started was going perfectly, the only problem was that we were in two different cities, but we made it work. And in that time, we got to know one another on a different level, a deeper level and I can absolutely tell you that I’ve never felt this way about a relationship, a partner before you.”

  “Max,” I say, tears dotting my eyes.

  “I love you, Peyton. And I’m not afraid to tell you that I need you too,” he says.

  I fight the urge to return the sentiment, but is he really here for the right reasons?

  Does he love me, or he is just saying what I want him to say?

  “Max, I’m not sure this is such a great idea. I don’t want you risking everything … on me.” I say, clearing my throat.

  “What if the x is worth the risk? I’ve never felt as strongly about a decision as I do right now, live on the edge with me, Pey. This is a chance that sometimes we must take.”

  “I thought that you don’t play the what ifs game?”

  “This isn’t a game. This is an investment in our future as man and wife and for my business.”

  “But I sent you these,” I say holding up the envelope, which I can only assume is the divorce papers that I sent to him.

  “And I refuse to sign them.” he tells me, his chin raised high and with confidence.

  I look at him. He’s the same man that I fell in love with, albeit a little tired looking, but I can tell through his posture and his tone that he means business. He’s not blowing smoke up my ass and he means every word that he is saying to me.

  But what if this is a temporary change.

  What if he still wants me to move to Seattle?

  Or what if he changes his mind and we don’t work out?

  MAXWELL

  I wait, sitting on her couch, for her to accept my being here. For her to welcome me in and for us to resume our relationship.

  Is it that easy though?

  Can we resume the relationship that was blossoming before she decided that she couldn’t make the move?

  Is there something else there that was making her want to stay here in Los Angeles?

  “I want us back, I know that we were long-distance and while that’s a type of relationship we could have, I want you and I want you every day. I made all the maneuvers to make my home in Los Angeles, and I want my home to be with you.”

  “But what if we don’t work out?”

  “But what if we do, Peyton? What if we have the best romance in the history of random hook-ups from Las Vegas? What if we become one of the success stories that authors write about?”

  “It’s a gamble,” she says.

  “And I’m all in.”

  I see the tears in her eyes as I take her hands in mine and move closer to her.

  “What if we fizzle out?” she asks.

  “Then we at least know that we gave our relationship a real chance.”

  “Max,” she says.

  “Peyton,” I return.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say that we can make this work?” I plead. “That you will take me back and that I can tear up these papers.”

  She hesitates, and I can see her emotions warring with her, but she opens her mouth with a small smile and I know that I’m done for.

  “So, where would you stay?”

  * * *

  I thought ahead of time, in case she didn’t welcome me into her home with open arms, and got a vacation rental for the next week and planned to stay there.

  “Are you sure about this? I can stay at my place, and we can naturally date this week?” Peyton asks from the inside of the house while I’m checking the BBQ, fiddling with the knobs.


  “I’m not going to force you to stay with me, but I would love for you to. It’s your call, if it’s too much too soon, then just let me know. I’ll back off, but I want you to know I’m all in, I’m doing this for us, because I want there to be an us.” I reply as I move back inside the house.

  “I just don’t want to push myself on you,” she says.

  “I think that it’s me, who pushed myself on you. I want you with me, I want you to be involved every inch of the way. I want to run ideas by you and I want you to be a part of my everyday life. I want this.”

  “I just haven’t done anything like this before,” she says.

  “Neither have I.” I say standing in front of her. “I’ve never gone to these lengths in any relationship before you.”

  She lays her hand along my cheek and smiles with a tilt of her head.

  “I can see how much you are putting yourself out there, and I’m thankful. Please be patient, because this is so sudden. I’m not entirely sure what we’re doing, and I think that I need it to sink in a little bit.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push, but I just want you to see that I mean business. I am invested, and I want nothing more than anything for this to work. I want us. If you want me to sign the divorce paperwork and we can have no strings tied to our relationship, then I will. I just want to be with you.”

  “Tell me about this new office that you are opening,” she takes my hand and leads me over to the side of the living room where the couch and loveseat is.

  Since the company name is widely known, it helps in providing a prominent image that is far greater than a brand new company.

  I tell her the gist of what we will continue to do, but the new areas we will see as well as the fact that I will still have travel back and forth between here and Settle as a partner from time to time, but ultimately the intention is to call Los Angeles home.