5. Harper

A limousine carriesus from the airport to the Las Vegas Marriage License Bureau. Once we're sitting down with a clerk, it takes fifteen minutes to get our licence. Vegas is as crazy as I am.

We find a suit store and pick something out to wear. It's the first time I've ever worn off-the-peg clothing, and I'm not a fan of the fit, but I settle for a sky-blue suit with a matching waistcoat. Bailey opts for navy with a tie that matches my suit.

It doesn't take us long to find a chapel on the Strip with an opening so we can get hitched. Until we got here, I hadn't been one hundred per cent sure the movie reality of getting married in Vegas was true, but it is.

"Nervous?" Clive asks.

"No." I've got nothing to be nervous about. This wedding is another business transaction; I make those almost daily.

"No," Bailey replies.

"Well, you must be the only two sober men in history who aren't nervous on your wedding day. Let me get a photo of you in front of the chapel. You're going to need something to show your mother."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

Bailey and I wrap our arms around each other and grin while Clive takes a photo.

"How about a kiss?" he asks.

"We have to save that for after we've exchanged vows." I don't want Bailey to feel uncomfortable.

We enter the chapel. A bubbly young man offers us flowers to put in our buttonholes, then leads us to a cream room with frosted glass doors and white candlesticks on glass pedestals. Cream sofas provide seating for more guests than we have, and a cheerful man in a suit and glasses presides over the ceremony.

The ceremony is brief but full of references to how much we love and adore each other. We convince the officiant it's true by looking into each other's eyes. It's not a hardship. Bailey has pretty eyes and a sweet, soft smile. Mother is going to adore him once she gets over the shock of me getting married on a whim.

We exchange vows and rings. The matching platinum rings are less flashy than the engagement ring. Each one has a single square-cut diamond in the centre.

"I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom," the officiant says.

I've kissed men hundreds, no, millions of times. Kissing my husband-for-hire won't be any different. Yet as I step closer, I'm hesitant and awkward. Where do I put my hands? Do I aim for a peck or try to snog him? What's appropriate for a wedding kiss? We should have discussed this kiss so I would know what Bailey is comfortable with. Too late now. We're on the spot and need to kiss.

I settle for putting my hands on his hips. He does the same. Bailey stares into my eyes and nods. We lean towards each other, tilting our heads so we don't bump noses and make prats of ourselves. You'd think we were teenagers sharing a first kiss at a school ball, not adults kissing after getting married. Our lips touch lightly at first. Then Bailey presses into the kiss, his mouth moulding against mine. I part my lips. He rewards me by slipping his tongue into my mouth. Damn, he can kiss. As we deepen the kiss, my lips tingle. I sweep my hand up his back and curl it around his nape while he puts his hand on my lower back, nudging me closer. Our chests graze. What would it be like to kiss him naked without an audience of two? Those aren't thoughts I should be having. This is strictly business. No sex. This kiss is for show. It might not feel like it, but it is.

Clive clears his throat. Bailey and I break apart. Bailey blushes as he uses his thumb to wipe saliva from his lips.

The bubbly man who welcomed us hands over our marriage licence, the chapel photographer snaps a few photos, and then we're sent on our way.

"That's it, then," Clive says as we return to the limousine that's been waiting for us. "You're hitched."

I slide my fingers through Bailey's. "How are you feeling, husband?"

"Surprisingly good."

I grin. "Do you have the energy for another plane ride? I've booked us a short stay in an overwater bungalow in Bora Bora."

Bailey widens his eyes. "Bora Bora?"

"Have you heard of it? It's in French Polynesia. It's the place to go and is LGBTQ+ friendly. Gay marriage is legal and everything. We can relax there for a few days before going home to face my family."

Bailey shakes his head slowly. "You don't do things by halves, do you?"

"No. It's a two-bedroom bungalow, so no worries there."

"You mean you're not going to consummate your marriage?" Clive asks.

I glare at him.

He laughs. "Lucky for you, only heterosexual couples have to consummate their marriage."

"Really?" Bailey asks. "I didn't even realise it was still a thing."

"It is in the UK. A marriage can be annulled if it's not consummated. But as I said, it only applies to heterosexual couples, and it's only an issue if one party wants to end the marriage because of it."

"Clive, a fount of useless legal knowledge," I say.

"None of it is useless," Clive objects.

We get into the limousine, and I instruct the driver to go to Caesar's Palace.

"I've booked Clive a room there," I tell Bailey. "We're going straight to the airport."

"Sleep on the plane if you can," Clive advises him. "It's a long flight, and you must be exhausted."

"I am pretty tired."

We drop Clive off at the hotel and continue our journey to the airport. Bailey stares out the window, lips parted, taking in all the sights.

"You've never been to Vegas?" I ask.

"I've never been to the US."

My gut pinches. I should have asked him what he wanted to do for our honeymoon rather than taking control of everything. I'll add it to my growing list of reasons why I'm going to be an awful husband.

"How are you feeling?" I ask once we're on board the jet in the air.

"Like I've been taken along for a ride by a whirlwind." Bailey stares at the rings on his fingers. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and realise this was all a dream."

"It's not a dream. You're Mister Bailey Carr now. Do you want to double-barrel our names? What sounds better? Carr-Sharp or Sharp-Carr? Or you could keep your surname, and I'll keep mine. Whatever you prefer."

"It would be easier if I kept mine. If I don't, I'll have to change everything again in twelve months when we get divorced."

"Oh yes, of course." Why didn't I think of that?

"When are you going to tell your family?"

"That we're married?"

"Yes."

I shrug. "My initial thought was when we get back, but there's no reason I couldn't ring them now and give them the good news. Wait, what time is it in the UK?"

"The early hours of the morning."

"It can wait."

Bailey laughs. He has a lovely laugh, light and bubbly. "You didn't need to pay for a honeymoon."

I snort. "I'm only planning on getting married once. Besides, think of it as a thank you for agreeing to marry me. You deserve all the perks of being my husband, including fancy rings and a luxury honeymoon. Let me spoil you."

"I feel a little guilty, that's all."

"Guilty?"

He nods and looks out the window at darkness, clouds, and stars. "I volunteer to help people who have nothing but the clothes they're wearing and a sleeping bag if they're lucky. But here I am, on a private jet, flying to Bora Bora, with rings that are probably worth an average year's salary on my finger."

"Give me a list of charities you want to support, and I'll make donations to them all. Call it a wedding present."

He raises his eyebrows. "You'd do that?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Th-thank you."

"You're welcome. We should get some sleep. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other better while we're on our honeymoon."

"I'm looking forward to it."

I smile as I fight the urge to cup and caress his cheek. "So am I."