Page 96 of Unruly

It didn’t take him long to go along with the plan, considering Cash doesn’t give a shit about a show as long as he gets me. So we booked two tickets to Vegas. We told family we were taking a vacation to Florida. It seemed believable to them, thank goodness.

“What if someone from Cedarbrook is there?” I question, knowing the likelihood of that is slim to none.

“Then they get to be the only guests to the best decision we’ve ever made, Darlin’,” he says, leaning into me. “We didn’t want a big wedding. No drama, like Rhett and Colt are dealing with. Just us under the neon lights.”

I nod, leaning my head against his shoulder as the plane descends. It’s just past three in the morning when we land, but Vegas doesn’t sleep. We grab a cab, the driver blasting music as we weave in and out of traffic toward the hotel.

We booked the room weeks ago to make sure we got the view we wanted. The hotel lobby hits us with a wall of air-conditioned air, and the sound of slot machines chime in the background. Check-in goes smoothly—the front desk clerk says “Room 1427” as she slides the room key across the counter.

We ride up in the elevator, buzzing with anticipation. When we get into the room, it’s perfect. King bed in the center, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the chaos of the strip below us, and a mini bar in the corner that we ignore for the time being as we collapse onto the massive bed.

“You ready to get married, Darlin’?” Cash whispers sweetly, before kissing me deeply.

I nod, giving him another kiss. “Let’s do it.”

I get up and slip into the bathroom with my bag, fixing my makeup a little before pulling out the all-white dress I bought just for this. The lace feels soft against my skin as I slide it on and step into the pink cowboy boots that Cash loves seeing me wear.

When I walk out, he’s already changed into a nicer button-up with his jeans and boots. But it’s the hat on his head that stops me dead in my tracks. Tears well up instantly in my eyes.

Ben’s worn Stetson sits on Cash’s head.

Cash notices immediately, his eyes softening as he takes in my outfit. He’s quiet for a moment. “You look gorgeous, baby,” he says gently. “I–I borrowed it for the weekend. Figured we’d want him here with us. He’s someone we could have trusted to cover for us.”

“You’re right. He would have.”

We sit on the edge of the bed in silence for a moment, thinking about Grandpa Ben.

I finally break the silence. “Wanna go get hitched, Thornwood?”

He smiles and replies, “Let’s go make this official.”

We take a cab to the marriage license office—it’s open all night. Vegas moves fast, and so do we. Getting in line, we’re surrounded by other couples in various outfits that range from next to nothing to full wedding attire.

We get called up in no time, signing the paperwork one by one. Cash’s eyes light up when I write my new name on the dotted line. With the license secured, we step out to go find a chapel, newly married in the eyes of Clark County, Nevada.

We settle on a charming little pink chapel a few blocks off the main strip, the outside walkway lit up with twinkling lights. Inside, there isn’t a soul, other than the officiant, dressed in a sparkly jacket. She greets us sweetly, checks our paperwork, and leads us to the altar, under the soft lights and a cute plastic flower arch.

Cash takes my hands.

The formalities pass in a blur, and then it’s time for vows.

“I love you, Benjamin Cash,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “From the back roads of the Ozarks to Vegas and whatever comes next. I promise to choose you everyday, which will be hard sometimes, I’m sure. But that’s us. You’re my home.”

Cash’s eyes shine. “And I love you, Halle. From the moment you walked back into my life, I knew you were mine and nothing was going to stop me from being your last everything. You’ve made a man of me, and there’s no one else I want to build a life with. No matter what, it’s you and me.”

We slide the simple gold bands we chose together onto each other’s fingers. Then the officiant pronounces us married, and Cash kisses me hard, dipping me back as a camera flashes. We straighten up, laughing, and the officiant shows us the beautiful photo, sending it to both of our phones.

Cash gives me a mischievous look. “Well, Mrs. Thornwood, wanna go find an Elvis?”

I look at him, puzzled. “Elvis?”

“When in Vegas, right?”

I nod, taking his hand as we head back toward the strip. We duck into a random chapel with Elvis’s face plastered on the side.

The King himself spots us immediately. “Welcome to the building, lovebirds! Ready to make it official with the King?”

“We just did the legal part,” Cash says laughing, as I show him the license. “But we need the photo for the memories.”