Crash Ride (26 page)

“Troy Harris.” I whispered against his skin, kissing his chest before bringing my face up to meet his.”

“Yes.” He gave that smile that meant he would humor whatever lame-ass idea I’d come up with.

“Will you marry me?”

Every reason I had that had been holding me back was no longer relevant. In that moment—just being with him— I’d fallen in love with him all over again.

He dipped his head and kissed me—hard.

“Yes.”

“Hey, beautiful, it’s time
to wake up.”

Watching Megs sleep had been the first time I’d been able to catch a breath since leaving the hospital. Her tired lids peeled opened as I kissed her neck before slamming them back shut.

“Come on, Megs. Let me off the hook here. I feel like an asshole trying to wake you, but it’s time.” The small shake I gave her earning me a groan.

“So tired.” She yawned trying to bury her head in the crook of my armpit.

“I wouldn’t be hiding there, if I was you.” I warned her, the last time I’d spent any time under a shower at least twenty-four hours ago. Sure I’d hit it with some
Old Spice
but it still wouldn’t have been pretty, that’s for sure.

“Just five more minutes.” She waved me off as she tried to chase down some more Zs.

“Five more minutes and we’re going to be on the runway.” The plane banked, making its finale approach into JFK. “You want me to carry you off the plane, I have no problem with that— but the attention we were trying to avoid— yeah that will probably be history.”

“Troy Harris, I love it when you get all logical on me.” Her beautiful eyes stayed hidden behind her lids but she treated me to a smile.

“And here I was thinking you married me for my last name. I know how fond you are of saying it, Megs Harris.”

“That sounds so freaking weird.” She laughed as she sat up in her seat. “I still can’t believe we did it.”

“Well it’s kind of fitting with our history— impulsive and unconventional. Besides you’d finally agreed. I sure as shit wasn’t giving you the opportunity to change your mind.”

We had both laid it out on the line when had gotten back from the hospital. Stuff we’d never talked about suddenly got airtime and it went a long way to heal us both.

Megs asking
me
to marry
her
was the icing on the cake. I had been fully prepared to wait and I’d even decided that I’d lay off on the proposals, but her saying those words to me was like being punched right in the mouth.

Being that fast forward had been kind of our speed, we jumped on a late flight to Vegas and made it to
Van Cleef & Arpels
just before they shut their doors. A couple of rings and a seedy Vegas chapel later, we walking down the aisle to the tune of “Don’t Stop Believin’” by
Journey
. Yep, the cheese factor was high but it was either that or Shania Twain. So
Journey
it was.

There was no dress, no flowers and no friends. Just the two of us and a preacher who was older than kerosene, but it was legal and we were married, and that was all that mattered.

It occurred to me getting on a plane so soon after Megs had lost the baby wasn’t the smartest decision, but she insisted that the risks were minimal. And her wanting it as much as I did was enough to convince me not to wait. I’d waited long enough and if one good thing could come out of the nightmare we’d been through, then I’d take it.

“For the record, I wouldn’t have changed my mind but last night was perfect.” Megs stared down at her wedding rings, the diamonds doing the twinkling thing they did when they hit the sun, and I didn’t doubt for a second that we’d made the right choice. Staying in Vegas wasn’t an option. We had no intention of hiding out, or avoiding the shit storm our quickie wedding was going to attract, so we high-tailed it back, ready to face the music.

“Technically it was this morning. Our marriage license says two forty-five a.m. so guess it’s still our wedding day.” The plane shook as the landing gear was lowered, the runway in sight.

“Well seeing as it’s my wedding day, that means I get to choose what we do and my vote is breakfast.” Megs squeezed my arm as the plane dropped altitude, my stomach lunging from the dip and the lack of food.

“Megs, it’s almost noon. I think breakfast is a bust.” While breakfast was out, food was definitely on the agenda. I could murder a burger and fries I was so hungry.

“But I want pancakes and bacon and the biggest coffee we can find. Oh my God, coffee. I missed it so much. I’m going to get two.” Her eyes got wide with the promise of caffeinated goodness.

“Then if my wife wants breakfast, we’ll get her breakfast.” She would get whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted and I would spend my last breath making sure of that fact.

She grinned as the tires on the plane hit the tarmac, the plane knocking us around on the touch down.

“We should probably tell our folks as well.” We were back in NYC and the fact we eloped was hanging over us like a big neon sign. No regrets, but we sure as hell had a lot of explaining to do. “No doubt the chewing out we’re going to get is going to be massive. Let’s hope your dad didn’t make good on his threat of getting a gun.”

“I’ll handle my dad.” She undid her seat belt as the plane rolled to the gate. “Do you think our friends will be pissed?”

“They’ll get over it.” I unhooked my belt too, ready to get off the plane. “If you want to do the wedding thing, we can make that happen. Alex and Lexi did a redo a few months after.”

“You know it’s funny, I always pictured my wedding a certain way. You know, wearing a
Vera Wang
gown, the fancy shoes and possibly the Plaza, but I just don’t want that now.”

Not that I knew what a Vera Whatever was, but she had rocked the jeans and T-shirt she’d worn, and I’d never seen her look more beautiful.

“It’s up to you, I’m good with the way we did it.”

“Mr. Harris, Ms. Winters you can disembark the plane now.” The airline chick smiled as she directed us to the jet bridge.

“Thanks.” I nodded and grabbed Megs’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

Knowing Vegas was going to be a drive-by, we hadn’t packed shit. Not even carry on. We were there long enough to say “I do” and for me to add a tiny bit of ink to my collection. We had almost spent more time in the air than we had in the desert, which had suited me just fine. I was glad to be back and pleased we weren’t going to be wasting our time at baggage claim.

JFK was freaking pumping, people running to gates and the loud speaker demanding attention. I was glad I’d sent TJ a message and organized a pick up. Getting a cab would have probably been a nightmare. We moved from arrivals to the curbside area, my fingers getting busy letting the big guy know we were waiting.

“Troy, Ms. Winters.” TJ rolled up in the Escalade, the two of us piling into the back.

“I just sent you a message.” His phone pinged from the front seat. “You have ESP or somethin’, dude?”

“Watched the flight schedule and was doing laps. It’s easier than having you sitting out there unattended.” He kept the engine idling as we climbed into the back seats.

“Thank you, TJ.” Megs smiled as she snuggled into her seat.

“No problem, Ms. Winters.” He gave her a chin tip in the rearview.

“Yeah, about that.” Fuck it—might as well start telling people and TJ was as close as family got without being blood or the band. “She kinda has the same last name as me now but keep it on the down low until we break it to everyone else.”

“I figured you probably went and got legal. Not too many reasons for you to be inbound from Vegas when you were in New York yesterday. Congratulations.” TJ grinned, giving us a good look at his grill as we pulled away from the curb.

“Thanks, man. It was spur of the moment. Maybe take us to Megs’s first. We should probably make a few calls.” And maybe get a shower as well, I also still had the promise of breakfast I needed to make good on.

“Yep, can do.” TJ nodded as he changed lanes and put us on the road, Greenwich bound.

Megs pulled out her cell and powered it up, the phone having been stuck on airplane mode for the last six or so hours.

“Holy shit!” Meg’s hand vibrated with the cell blowing up with a bunch of missed calls and unanswered texts. “My parents are freaking out. They’ve been calling for hours.”

“You want me to talk to them?” I held out my hand ready to take the heat. Fuck, they could unleash whatever they wanted on me, nothing was removing the shit-eating grin I was wearing.

“No, I’ve got it.” Her voice wavered a little like she wasn’t all that convinced that she
had it
. Her fingers punching the keypad as she dialed the number.

“Just remember, anyone starts giving you a hard time, you hand that phone to me. I won’t have anyone making you feel bad about what we did.” Not to mention that the happy-happy-joy-joy was still arm wrestling with the grief of losing our baby. Sure we were smiles and rainbows but that didn’t mean the minute we walked back into the apartment that the reality of the situation wouldn’t rear its ugly mug.

“You are too sweet, Troy Harris.” She bit her lip as she raised her cell to her ear as we navigated through the shit storm that was Manhattan traffic.

“Hey, Mom. No please don’t cry. I’m fine.” The smile Megs had been wearing slipped from her face. “I’m sorry you were worried. I just…”

She took a breath, not seeming to get a word in edgeways. “Mom, I’m fine. I was on a plane, I had to have my phone off.” Megs got defensive as she continued. “Well the doctor didn’t say I couldn’t fly, I wasn’t flying the plane myself.”

I was just about to grab the phone off her when she finally broke the news. “Because Troy and I went to Vegas and got married.” I stared at Megs waiting for a reaction and hoping her parents weren’t going to give her a hard time. My primal need to protect her from anything bad was making me twitchy.

“Mom?” Megs waited. “Oh, hey Dad. Yeah, that’s right we eloped. No, no one pressured me. I wanted to. Because I was tired of waiting to be happy and this made me happy.” From the one-sided conversation I was hearing, I was getting the gist they weren’t pleased. Megs stood her ground though, not going the I’m-sorry-don’t-be-mad route. “I don’t care about a big celebration; it’s what I wanted and it’s done.”

She pulled the phone from her ear obviously done with defending our actions and brought it closer to her mouth. “Dad, I’m hanging up now. I love you both but I need you to be happy for us.” And with that she ended the call.

“Did that go as well as it sounded?” I didn’t need to hear the other side of the phone call to know they weren’t going to be welcoming us to Sunday lunch anytime soon. I was probably on the top of their shit list as well. Still them being pissed off didn’t change that we were rocking matching rings, and that us being married was as permanent as the tattoo I’d gotten an hour after.

“Yeah they are freaking out, they think I’m suffering post traumatic stress disorder and somehow jumped into making a decision. They already knew I wanted this, sure it was sudden but it’s not like we hadn’t talked about it.” Megs switched the phone to silent and threw it into her purse. No doubt her folks would try and call her back, maybe to try and talk some sense into her.

“It’s a valid concern, Megs, they are just worried. Let’s give them a few days and then maybe go see them.” Not saying that they were right, but they were only worried ’cause they loved her. If my kid ran off and married some dude, I’d probably have words to say about it myself.

I reached across and held her hand, my thumb rubbing over the back of her knuckles. Megs gave me a weak smile as I stroked her skin. “What about your parents? Are they going to freak out?”

“Ha! My mom will get down on her knees and thank God I finally came to my senses and married you; she won’t care too much about missing the ceremony. She kind of got used to the idea that I wasn’t going to settle down, so this is like her Christmas and birthday all coming at once.”

And wasn’t that the truth. My mom had given up on the pipe dream of me being shacked up. She wasn’t an idiot, and knew I had female company but she ignored the press for the most part. And other than a lecture telling me to be respectful and me not being too big for an ass whooping if she heard about me being a scumbag, we had the whole don’t-ask-don’t-tell thing going for us.

“Troy Harris, the perpetual bachelor?” Megs laughed, obviously my dating history amusing the shit out here.

“Well, considering before I brought you home, the number of girlfriends my folks had met, stood at three—all of which were while I was in high school—she hadn’t counted on sitting in a church watching me put a ring on it.”

“See, why can’t my parents be that cool?” She leaned her head back against the headrest, her eyes getting sleepy with the rock of the Escalade.