Page 47 of All Bets Are Off

Without even a beat of consideration, Theo says, “The flamingos.”

It’s no easy feat finding our way out of the Venetian, but we eventually find the right exit back out onto Las Vegas Boulevard and continue south. We bypass some of the older, smaller resorts like Casino Royale and Harrah’s—the old-school Vegas waft of stale cigarette smoke emitting from the casino entrances is not exactly inviting—and then reach the more modern LINQ Promenade. It’s an open-air shopping and dining district that runs alongside the LINQ hotel, the pedestrianized street leading all the way down to the High Roller Observation Wheel that prominently overlooks the strip. Zipline cables run overheard and palm trees line the walkway.

“That’s already on the itinerary for tomorrow. That big wheel,” I tell Theo, pointing down to the High Roller. “We’ve booked a pod with an open bar, so you can let Liam know. I assume you’ll all be joining us.”

“You don’t need to say it in that tone,” Theo says. “I know you want me to join you on the big fancy wheel. Sunset views over Vegas? Without me? What a wasted opportunity.”

“You really just . . . don’t stop, do you?”

“Well,” he says, stepping in front of me to look me straight in the eye, “are my methods of flirtation finally working on you?” He stands there with a gorgeous smile, a tuft of blond hair poking through the backward baseball cap on his head, and it occurs to me that any attempts at denial would be futile at this point.

“Yeah, they’re working,” I say, dipping my chin shyly and looking up at him from beneath my lashes.

“Then there’s no chance in hell I’m shutting up.”

Before his head grows too big to fit through the door of In-N-Out Burger, I playfully push him away from me and nod behind him to the fast-food chain. “Are you hungry? Can I buy you a burger? My treat.”

Theo smolders his blue eyes at me. “Now who’s the one flirting?”

“If I was really flirting, I’d take you somewhere nicer than In-N-Out Burger,” I point out, then totally contradict myself by weaving my fingers through his, which is unusually confident for me. I’m not one to take the initiative and make any first moves, but alas, here I am, forcing my hand into Theo’s and offering to buy him some food.

After last night’s terrifyingly expensive dinner at STK, it’s like a sigh of relief to tuck into some cheap and cheerful burgers and fries. It’s Adelaide who has a taste for the finer things in life, and this weekend is all about celebrating her, so many of the things on the itinerary I planned I’d never pick out for myself personally. The clubs, the fine dining, the intimate cocktail bars—that’s Addy, not me. I’m so much more comfortable right here in this diner with zero expectations to be confident and glamorous and outgoing, watching Theo shovel fries into his mouth.

As we’re clearing away our trash, my phone buzzes in the pocket of my shorts. It’s Evie, asking if I’ve drowned in the pool. A second text comes through: this one asking if Theo has also drowned in the pool.

I glance up from my phone. “I think our disappearance has been discovered.”

“Wow,” Theo says, feigning hurt by pressing a hand to his heart. “It took those fuckers over an hour to notice we were gone?”

I flash him my screen, showing him the messages from Evie. “Do I reply? What do I tell her? We’re not going back to join them later, right?”

“Maybe just tell her—oh, hang on.” He fishes his own phone out from the deep netted pocket of his swim shorts and I realize someone is calling him. With a roll of his eyes, he presses the phone to his ear. “Yes, Evelyn?” He pauses for a second, listens. “Yes, I’m alive, and yes Hailey is also alive. We’re not floating dead in the pool while everyone parties on top of us. Thank you for your concern. No, we’re not coming back. We’re bonding at In-N-Out Burger and we’re about to go see some flamingos. Don’t be too jealous, and don’t you dare make out with that Jameson guy. I’m so serious about that. Okay? Yeah, good.” He ends the call and stuffs his phone back into his pocket, and I put mine away, too, because a text back to Evie is no longer required on my part.

“You’ve only been talking about these flamingos for, like, twenty-four hours nearly,” I say, tipping the tray into the trash can, my gaze never leaving his, “so c’mon. Let’s finally go see them.”

The Flamingo hotel is adjacent to the LINQ Promenade, so we head into the resort through a side door and, despite being the strip’s longest-standing hotel, it doesn’t show its age. It’s nicely renovated and the Wildlife Habitat is the very first attraction we stumble upon, which after our trek deep into the Venetian, is a welcome relief for my feet. It’s free entry to the exhibit, and we step through the glass doors outside into a tropical garden.

We’re greeted by vibrant greenery, cascading waterfalls and ponds filled with wildlife. It’s surprisingly peaceful and tranquil out here, like a serene oasis nestled right in the very middle of the bustling Las Vegas strip, and I lean up against the railings to examine the first enclosure.

Koi carp move sleekly beneath the water and a pelican meanders through the grass.

“Look, Theo! The flamingos!”

Beneath some palm trees toward the back of the habitat, a flock of pink flamingos enjoys the shade, most of them standing one-legged. Theo immediately presses up against the railing, too, his arm brushing mine.

“Wait,” he says, his tone flat. “I thought they’d be bigger. What the hell? That’s how big flamingos really are?”

“Yeah, Theo, that’s how big flamingos really are.” I shuffle even closer to him, tucking my body perfectly into his side as his hand naturally falls to the small of my back. Where his skin touches mine, I feel sparks of electricity. Nervously, I glance up at him and say, “Hey, Theo?”

His warm, inviting gaze shifts to meet my eyes. “Yeah, Hails?”

“I’m having the best time with you.”

The corners of his mouth stretch into a gorgeous smile and just the way he smiles . . . It does something so strange to my stomach. What is Theodore Sinclair doing to me? I’m turning to mush over a man two years younger than me, and Addy’s brother, no less. Part of me says I should ignore whatever these brewing feelings are, but another part of me is thinking: finally. Finally, there is a man standing in front of me who understands me. A man who makes me feel comfortable and safe, a man who sits by my side while I chase my silly dreams, a man who kisses me in the delicate way Theo kissed me last night.

And maybe that’s something I want to embrace, not fight.

“I’m having the best time with you, too, Hails,” Theo murmurs, and when I rest my head against his bicep, he presses a soft kiss into my hair. After a moment, he says in a hushed voice, “The flamingos aren’t all that exciting. Let’s go work on your book.”